This is a soft touch/go. I will only write more if this gets positive feedback or a lot of readers. Please leave thoughts in comments. First time trying Steampunk, first time writing anything not regular JohnLock/TeenLock except that one WhoLock crossover I never finished. Anyway, enjoy.
Everything was reasonably quiet around the shop aside from the usual background hum of the machinery that he'd already fixed and ready to go back to their owner or was for sale. The difference in this noise compared to his regular customer was very distinct.
Sherlock's work station was in the back of his shop. Upon his selling counter on the back wall of the main selling area stood a bell that made a very distinct sound. This bell was used by regular customers if Sherlock wasn't in view. Never were they to yell back.
As the man worked his long fingers, his eyes focused on the multiplying lenses over his eyes. He saw each tiny little knob in the toy mechanical dog's leg. He'd found what was wrong about an hour ago and it had taken almost the whole time to remove the small, ground up piece of wood and all the broken pieces from the gears. Since the dog was an older model the pedals in the feet rolled , which may be the reason the wood got inside. Or maybe the child jammed it in. Either way Sherlock would fix and return it to the child.
Not out of love for the child but devotion to his work. It was all he had and all he wanted.
The best thing he ever did, though, was save a man's life. With the hard work of fixing metal to flesh. It hadn't been easy but he'd done it. His creation, though, needed constant fixing. Not because he'd done things wrong, but because the man kept wearing himself out.
Deep in thought, Sherlock finished the dog toy and closed up the leg. He twisted the spin tail and set it on the floor. Unlike current dog toys who's legs actually moved up and down in a forward-backward motion, small wheels at the bottom of the legs rotated and the dog moved forward. Fixed completely, it was actually better off than when the boy had brought it to him.
Even as he placed the dog on one of the small piles he deemed "done," Sherlock picked up another broken object from the even larger and more numerous piles of "to be done." Just as he determined himself towards locating the problem, this object being that of a malfunctioning personal water heater about the size of a human brain, Sherlock heard a very distinct footstep. There was nothing tremendously wrong with it, but with the normal thud of the step came a small, nearly inaudible hum. This humming came from the joint mechanisms held inside of the ankle, knee, and hip as he shifted his leg to move his body forward.
Abandoning the water heater, Sherlock rose and quickly went to the opening for the back of his shop. The footsteps continued at a normal rate any full-bodied human would pull off. Sherlock waited, listening to the whirs for any possible hiccup. The man never came for just a visit, which Sherlock preferred since he was married to his work, which meant something was wrong. Before he even saw the man, Sherlock knew the problem wasn't in the leg or hip equipment.
Having been in this type of connection with each other for years now, there was a certain greeting they had. Silence until face-to-face, and then it was straight business talk. Sherlock only wished the rest of his clients were capable of having such an arrangement.
The man came up to Sherlock, a crooked smile on his face. He looked more than a bit guilty, his sandy blonde hair practically a style in and of itself. Sherlock held his hand out and the man placed a fully metal arm into it. The end of the arm, the shoulder piece, was torn almost to shreds. The shirt the man wore was hanging limply at the shoulder where the mechanism normally was connected.
With a deep, accepting sigh, Sherlock moved out of the doorway to admit the man into the back room. Once sitting at the work table, the man's exposed and ruined stump facing Sherlock, electrical wires and a bunch of metal all crunched together, Sherlock took a look.
"Okay, start from the beginning, John."