Inspired by this post: .com/post/16799815561/demidevieevee-the-eternity-clock-song
JOHN
John has met Sherlock before the fateful meeting at St. Bart's and he certainly knew about Sherlock Holmes well before Mike Stamford ever introduced the two at that place. John had met Sherlock on a few occasions, not that Sherlock really knew it at the time and whether he clued in on it when they first met in person was still a mystery to John. The self diagnosed sociopath never really left any indications or hints that he knew and it is not like John was really hiding it. It was obvious in his name alone but he assumed perhaps Sherlock had not remembered him at all. This would bother John if he had not known Sherlock better, it hurt a little when he thought about it but John would never let the man know it. If Sherlock didn't remember him than there is really nothing he can do to help comfort him about that fact.
There are few things in this world that Sherlock was not aware of. The supernatural, presumably non-existent to the detective, was one of these things. The supernatural was not greatly ingrained in common life, there were some ghosts or hauntings here and there and sure some creatures considered 'mythical' or part of simple 'fairy tales' did exist but they were not a huge populace nor did they have a huge influence on human life or mortals. In fact, most of these creatures usually choose to hide away from civilization and live in their own created communities. Selkies were among such species which decided to not bother with humans.
Selkies were a particularly rare specimen to come by in these modern days. Rarely ever do they abandon their pelts and become human and when spotted by a mortal they are brushed off as a common seal or which ever creature they were currently disguised as. Commonly seen as seals due to their natural habitat in the sea and only ever really spotted off the coasts of Ireland and Scotland, they are widely believed to originate from the souls of people that have drowned. A selkie can never truly be confirmed as one unless seen stripping of their pelt or putting the pelt back on. They can become any creature or mammal they wish by simply wearing the creature's pelt but are recognized as generally beautiful human beings. John Hamish Watson was no exception, of course not nearly as beautiful as most males, he certainly could attract women if he desired.
John is a Selkie and he took pride in his heritage but he did not have the best upbringing and has lived most of his life hiding among humans, his own pelt hidden away and rarely ever used. It was his upbringing which he been when he met one Sherlock Holmes.
A young Selkie wearing the pelt of a hedgehog found himself lost, confused, cold and scared. He had fled the sea upon his father's wishes when poachers had caught his mother. He was separated from his sister upon shedding their seal pelts and rushing from the sea. He was only but a year old and on his own, his older sister no where in sight or even detectable in scent or sound. He now had no family and his home was no longer safe, he had not even a name for himself. He wandered the forests, he traveled but never roaming too far. After a full year he returned to the beach, shedding his the hedgehog pelt and searching for his old skein. His pelt. Upon finding it he gave it a good look over. It was worn out from the elements but would wear well to his familiar form. Small from his younger age and never stretched out as he grew over the year. Slipping it on he felt the merge and his human skin shifted. His form morphing, tangling and twisting as he wriggled and writhed in the sand until finally he settled and remained still.
He immediately fled to the sea. Submerging into the familiar cold waters and swimming far from the shoreline. He remained among the cold water, exploring the sea's floor once again as he had once done but a year ago. Skimming one flipper over the loose, heavy wet sand below before spiraling and propelling himself upwards. His smooth gray head broke past the surface and with human-like blue eyes he peered back to the shore. He waited for the appearance of his returning sister. He wished to see her again and remained there, bobbing with the weak cold waves that attempt to push his slim body along the waters and under into the darkness it harvests. John remains adamant in his hopes for his sister, his father and mother no longer dwelling in these waves. He could not smell any lingering of their scent which would indicate they have been here recently. He knew what had happened to them and he would not let their sacrifice for his survival to end in vain. His sister had to be alive. She needed to return to the water eventually and he would be here for her.
They were all they had left of family now. They never really belonged to a colony and only had each other for comfort and protection and he would not abandon this post until his sister returned.
As it was, a young Sherlock Holmes was currently residing not too far away from that very beach but a whole year after the lone Selkie's decision to remain there waiting. He was visiting family, his Aunt and Grandma on his mother's side in Ireland for his birthday which is why they were spending it here. No one in his hometown would have visited him anyways, none of those kids liked him mostly because he said the wrong things all the time and was smarter than them. Not a lot of his family really cared for his birthday either, mostly the women fawned over him on the day but for the most part there is rarely ever a party and he is left to his own devices for the day. He receives gifts but he hardly ever uses them, most people bought him useless or mundane things like toys or train sets. He never said anything to their face to afford a smack from mother but later he normally dumped out the toys or locked them away in Mycroft's closet to topple onto him when he opened it.
Sherlock never went to the beach on that small vacation so it would seem that he and this nameless lonely Selkie would never meet but that was not the case. In fact, it was this year that the Selkie had decided to leave the waters in search of his sister. Shedding of his skein and finding the old skein, he took the form of the small hedgehog and once again ventured into the wilderness he had never dared to enter since those two years ago. He scurried along the forest floor, it was strange for him to be on four small feet and moving on solid ground. He already missed the feel of water as he pushed himself through it, against the current and the sense of weightlessness that came with it. His fluid motions below the surface and the feel of the flippers along the sand at the bottom. Despite his year of traveling the wild forests it all felt foreign to him once again. Trees towering over him and a mass of scents which flooded his nose and noises that startled his sensitive ears.
He roamed the forest for what felt like days. He had survived off bugs, wild berries and plants and slept in any empty burrows he could find. Things were still just as scary, especially at night, it was cold and he had lost his way back by getting himself tumbling down some sloped areas and having to try and find his way out of the ditches and natural made trenches. His scent was no longer ingrained in the dirt and he could not follow it him, he regretted this decision and felt homesick for the sea once again. Ignoring all this He thought of his sister and continued to trudge along through the wilderness.
He was alone, it was growing dark once again but he had to keep going. He had acquired a limp after being attacked by an owl, an attack he barely survived and could only now limp away in a hurry as hopes the nocturnal bird of prey would not find him again crossed his mind. He stopped when smelling something. It was such an unfamiliar scent that he had low hopes of it being anything good, he could hear a quiet noise of voices. It was unfamiliar to his ears, nothing near the trills or cries which would was spoken by his own native tongue. Looking for any physical signs of the source, he could spot nothing among the tall trees and thick bushes which surrounded him. Tiny nose in the air he sniffed for a better indication of where the scent was coming from. It was a mixture of things, all foreign to him. With trepidation he followed after the scent blindly, limping but holding back any pain the tiny injury would cause with this movement. He continued to march on bravely, a hint of fear at the unknown which he would seemingly face with this unknown scent and sound. He knew it did not belong to the forest, as foreign of a place as it was, he could recognize would should belong and what was not a native. Hunters. Humans. He only ever heard tales of them from his parents, they hunted and destroyed with no care for what was in their path. Climbing under a bush and breaking through the leaves on the other side found him in a strange place. Trees were gone, it was a clear space of grass and up ahead was a bright arrangements of flowers and other plants. Beyond it stood a tall and giant structure unfamiliar to him. He did not recognize what the structure was for but saw sources of light seeping beyond clear panels. All of the smells and all of the noise originated from that structure. He could vaguely see humans, just outside the structure and entering it as it grew darker outside.
He was so entranced with this strange sight that He had not noticed the approaching mammal until it towered above him. He looked up with fear at the creature, fur gray with black stripes and white belly. Ears pointed back and a low mewl rising in its throat as it approached him slowly. He only had enough time to curl into a defensive ball before the cat pounced at his small body.
Sherlock had just passed the garden when he saw it happen. Smithers, Aunt Helena's cat, had pounced a rather small and defenseless hedgehog. It released a tiny cry, curled in on itself in a method of defense and remained motionless as the cat started to paw at the soft spines and nudge the body around with his nose. He watched silently for only a few moments before deciding to intervene the moment he noticed the spines began to tense and show potential to hurt. He knew if he watched the cat get hurt then Aunt Helena would be angry and thus his mother would be disappointed. His Aunt, mother, Mycroft and Uncle Harris were all out on the Terrance enjoying a civilized conversation the 7-year-old had no interest in and so Mycroft shooed him off to go play in the garden.
Approaching the scene, he scared off the cat with some mild gestures and hissing commands. Smithers gave one look back at the quivering hedgehog before it ran off and left Sherlock behind in the darker edges of Aunt Helena's backyard. He crouched, hugging his knees and watching the hedgehog with the intention of learning every detail possible of the creature.
It remained curled, aware of the one that had scared off the cat and taking it as another potential threat. The cat was bigger than the little creature so this being could quite easily eat it. Smart for something so small. Cautious.
After a moment of silence it began to slowly unfurl its body and scurried to the bushes. Sherlock frowned but didn't move, he had hoped it would not have ran off but figured it would to return to its safe home. He remained perfectly still when he saw the hedgehog's little head poke out from under the bushes, a pair of human-like blue eyes staring back at him with some scrutiny and wariness. The small boy remained still until it slowly crawled out of bushes and towards him. He took notice of its small limp and saw the tiny injury on its back right leg.
A skirmish, going to say owl by the looks of the injury. Brave and likely quick-witted for a hedgehog if it managed to escape a bird of prey. Sherlock watched until it stopped just a few feet from him. Its eyes never leaving him as he then moved very slowly. One hand held out and moving towards it with no small or quick motions. It remained glued to the spot until he was closer and then it moved closer. He felt its cold nose press against his palm as it sniffed him, edging ever so closely to the boy. It fearlessly climbed onto his hand, nose pressed to the skin and taking in the entire appendage and the feel for it. Sherlock could feel the tiny claws against his skin but none caused injury.
The Selkie found it odd that this small human had such a comforting scent. It smelt vaguely of the forest but with other foreign scents mingled into it. He was smaller than poachers He had seen but still much larger than himself so he needed to be careful. This being had scared off the cat, it had to be far more dangerous than it since humans managed to scare mother and father on various occasions. He smelt no sense of danger or threat from this human and so climbed up onto the offered limb, it was no paw or flipper and its claws were not sharp. No talons, just long rounded spines. He took it all in as he was lifted from the ground. He hardly took notice of the height as the human continued to study him. Finally finished with analyzing his scent and taking into account the feeling of his flesh under him, soft and warm and gave way slightly to the weight on his paws. Kind of like sand but far more solid and warmer. He felt a pang of homesickness once more at the thought but decided to push it back as He looked up at the human boy. His other hand reached up and held close to the other to give him more room.
Sherlock held the hedgehog gingerly, accommodating to his injured leg. He looked over to where the others were, still chattering away and unaware of the young boy standing so far away and dangerously close to the wilderness beyond the property. He looked back down at the hedgehog and into those blue eyes which stared back.
"It was my birthday today," Sherlock started to talk. He was unsure why, he knew it was irrational as the hedgehog probably couldn't understand a word he said. Sherlock knew it was illogical to hope it could but he felt the urge to share, to speak to it. "I turned seven but no one really cares. That's why my Mummy took my brother and I here, because none of the other kids would come over anyways and even a lot of my family would be bothered to stop by. Not a lot of people like me."
"I don't mind really, they don't like me and I don't like them so it is fine. Really." Sherlock continued, standing in place and keeping his eyes locked on the hedgehog. He went quiet as if willing the creature to speak, somehow break the laws of reality and logic and talk to Sherlock in a manner no other could. To comfort him or possibly invite him back to his own family, live in the wilderness with him. Silence followed and Sherlock almost felt disappointed, he stopped all thoughts when the creature released a strange coo. A squeak mixing with a whispered trill. He moved closer to him and down his palm, Sherlock brought it closer and planting its small front feet on his chin had brought its own small nose to tap against Sherlock's.
"Do you want to be m-my friend?" He asked the creature with astonishment and confusion. Had the hedgehog understood him and offering companionship? Does it sympathize with him and offer comfort? It released a louder trilled squeak of confirmation while backing up and Sherlock let a small smile pull at his lips, one which he had never used in a long time. He quickly composed himself though and looked down at the animal. "Good. Good. That's good but you're going to need a name, aren't you?"
Sherlock took in the hedgehog's appearance, sitting down in the grass and thinking it over. The hedgehog simply looked up at him expectantly and patiently, awaiting his name.
"Sebastian?"
It let out a low harsh mewl and threatened to roll back into a ball.
"Didn't think so. Maximilian?"
Another protesting noise and Sherlock held the hedgehog gingerly around the belly and lifted it up to examine it further.
"How about John?"
There was a pause between the two before the hedgehog released a repetitive cheering whoop, squirming enthusiastically in his hold but not enough to endanger being dropped by Sherlock. He again smiled and lowered it to hold it in two hands once again and cradle the injured leg. "John it is. Hello John, I'm Sherlock Holmes."
John was surprised when the boy started to talk to him. He understood him perfectly. His ow strange language translating perfectly to his ears and it seemed this boy was just like him. He was lonely. He was alone and needed companionship much like how John wished to find his sister once again. He wasn't sure what a 'birthday' was but it seemed to be something to celebrate yet the boy seemed saddened that not even his own family wanted to celebrate. John was displeased by this neglect, a family was meant to stay close and cherish each other to the end. This human boy had no friends, no companions while John knew most humans tended to pack together naturally. He sympathized with the boy, he had no one just like how John had no one and so he comforted him. He brought his nose affectionately to the boy and he took it is offering of companionship, John made no protests and certainly would enjoy it. This human was comforting to him. The boy seemed happy with it too and decided he needed a name. He rather liked the name 'John'. It was simplistic and gave him a purpose. He was no longer the orphan Selkie lost but 'John' the companion of Sherlock Holmes. He had something besides his lost and missing sister to cling to as purpose. He was a tad saddened that his true connection was now to land but he could go back and gather his pelt for Sherlock to guard from other humans later.
"Sheeeerloooock!" Sherlock whipped his head around to look over his shoulder. Mycroft was already inside, Aunt Helena heading inside with Uncle Harris and his mother standing at the open door expectantly. "Come back inside, it's getting dark out!"
"Coming Mummy!" Sherlock called loudly before looking back at John. "You need to be quiet okay? Mummy wouldn't let me bring you inside if she knew you're from the forest so you need to be quite and still, got it?" John gave him a nod and small squeak before he slipped the hedgehog into his coat pocket and rushed for the house, being careful not to jostle John. He slowed down at the door, his mother raising a brow expectantly.
"Nothing hidden in your short pockets this time is there?" She asked suspiciously and John held back a slight purr of confusion. He could understand Sherlock perfectly yet this woman, his mother, she could not understand a single word she had just said. All just a mash of noise hissing in his ears like static.
"I have nothing Mummy." Sherlock responded while showing his empty hands, small marks of dirt on his palms from John's claws but nothing else and she let it go as him playing in the dirt instead of blaming a small hedgehog named John sitting comfortably in the seven-year-old's pocket. Mycroft stood just beyond the door and raised a brow at the markings on his brother's hands and seeing the tiniest of bulge in his left coat pocket. He remained quiet as Sherlock was allowed into the house and he hurried off to the guest bedroom he was staying in. His mother insisted they were about to have dinner but he told her rather bluntly that he was not hungry and had something to read up on. She gave a defeated sigh, shaking her head and resigning to the fact that Sherlock was a very strange child and ordered Mycroft to make sure Sherlock ate at least something that night.
Sherlock removed John from his pocket and put him down on his desk gently, the small creature now looking around curiously and taking in the room. John was comfortable, despite the foreign scents which flooded his nostrils and the new sights mainly because Sherlock was there and it was warm here inside the giant structure.
"I need to work on that injury John. No friend of mine is going to limp around." Sherlock informed the hedgehog, scooping up the small body. John's claws curled carefully around Sherlock's finger tips and watched where the carried him until he was placed on a bathroom sink. Sherlock hurried from the room before returning with a thick book and flipped through a lot of pages. John remained mostly where he had been placed out of fear of getting into something which would cause him misfortune or possibly upset Sherlock. Soon enough Sherlock left the open book near John and nudged him onto his side before gently rolling him onto his back.
John knew being tipped onto his back in this form should be a red flag and reason to panic as Sherlock made sure he didn't roll back onto his feet. He remained still but sent a few confused squeaks to Sherlock as a meaning of questioning and the human looked into his blue eyes once again.
"I'm patching up your leg. Don't move too much, alright?" Sherlock hoped the hedgehog could understand everything he said and had not made a lucky guess outside in the yard. John went quiet and relaxed, eyes still locked onto Sherlock but with utter trust and comfort that Sherlock almost felt overwhelmed by it. No one had ever looked at him with such trust before and for a moment he feared he may not do the right thing and ruin that trust. Booting all of those thoughts out of hid mind, he began to work on the small injury on John's leg. He wasn't a vet and John was very small so he had to use his own magnifying glass and the veterinary text book he stole from Mycroft's girlfriend's book bag the last time she was at their house. She wanted to work and help animals and was working on it now.
John remained quiet and as still as possible as Sherlock worked on the injury from the owl. It was odd to be medically treated by a human, they did things so differently. His mother would nuzzle his head, whisper a few words and kiss the injury before submerging it into water and it would heal. She was an excellent healer. Sherlock cleaned the wound gingerly to prevent as much pain as possible, using a disinfectant and then wrapping up the leg in material before finishing it up. John cautiously tested his leg, holding back a wince at putting too much weight on it but it seemed to feel much better. If he could get it into some water it would be perfectly better.
"And this is the planet Jupiter." Sherlock pointed to the picture on the giant map of the solar system he had brought from home. "One day I might do a study to discover life on that planet or if plants could be possible on it." He stated enthusiastically and John marveled in awe at the images with a small whistle, clearly impressed and Sherlock simply glowed at the attention. A knock at Sherlock's bedroom and the boy suddenly ushered John gently into the desk drawer, whispering him to be quiet before closing the drawer and facing towards the door as it opened and in stepped Mycroft with a plate of food from dinner. A little of everything being served tonight.
"Alright, where is it?" Mycroft asked as he closed the door and approached Sherlock to place the plate down on the desk for his little brother.
"Where's what?" Sherlock had answered innocently, doing his best to seem clueless as to what Mycroft was speaking of and that unfortunately was what gave him away as he normally always knew Mycroft was looking for and never seemed affronted when called out on it. He was hiding something and John coward to the back of the drawer hearing the unfamiliar voice.
"Come now Sherlock, you don't honestly believe I wouldn't see? Whatever it is you brought in from inside. What and where is it?" John tensed, he understood a word in that sentence and it was Sherlock. He continued to listen in hopes of understanding other words. Sherlock looked at his brother defiantly but Mycroft simply raised a brow, crossing his arms and within minutes his younger brother caved knowing he would not give up. Sherlock opened the door and looked inside seeing John at the far back. Carefully scooping up the hedgehog, he held John carefully in his hands and the Selkie looked up at Mycroft with some fear and wariness.
"His name is John and I found him being attacked by Smithers. He won't hurt anyone and I'm keeping him." Sherlock stated factually and Mycroft raised a brow at his younger brother before taking in the hedgehog. Unnatural, human-like blue eyes stared back at him and John wiggled his nose as he took in the scent of this new being, Mycroft.
"Oh, you are keeping him? Indefinitely?" Mycroft asked with a hint of skepticism that John did not appreciate, nor did Sherlock, whom glared in response as John released an angry growl that rolled in his throat. Mycroft was not surprised or affected by this.
"Yes, John is my friend and I'm going to take him home with us." Sherlock stated while holding the hedgehog closer to himself to prevent Mycroft from taking him away. John looked up at Sherlock, purred and nudged at his neck with his nose. "Don't tell Mummy."
"No, of course not. Make sure it doesn't have rabies and do feed it regularly, the thing needs to eat on a daily basis no matter what you may think." Mycroft motioned with his head towards the plate of food before leaving the room. "Be careful with it Sherlock, it is small and not some toy or test subject."
"I know that Mycroft! John is a friend, not some pet!" Sherlock responded haughtily and Mycroft only chuckled as he left the room. Sherlock waited for a minute before putting John back down on the desk, he immediately went to investigate the brought in food and took an immediate liking towards the dessert pastry. A crepe with jam in the middle and some real blueberries poking from the open ends. John took to the berries like he hadn't eaten in years, which wasn't true as John made sure to at least eat one meal every day much like his mother taught him and his sister insisted upon this routine. Jon was struck again by the thought of his family and the sea. He could vaguely see it from the view of the window but that is all.
He looked up at Sherlock but was startled to find those icey blue eyes were already locked on him. Silently he stared and John momentarily forgot his previous thought of somehow luring Sherlock to the sea and convince him to take the pelt to protect it for John while he stayed with Sherlock. He assumed tomorrow would be no problem, perhaps early in the morning before his mother was awake and could stop him. Mycroft would certainly understand if he ever saw it, or so John hoped he would and not throw it out to upset Sherlock. His ankles would receive a thorough biting if he attempted to upset Sherlock on John's watch.
As It turned out, fate was out to get John as he awoke the next morning from his comfortable slumber on the pillow next to Sherlock's head, to find himself encased by darkness. He squirmed in a panic for mere seconds before light soon flooded his sight. It dimmed down as his eyes adjusted and he realized he was in a pocket. Not one like Sherlock's coat, the material was rougher ad Jon's claws would snag the threads before he broke loose of them. Looking up towards the light and finding a familiar icey blue eye looking down at him. A hand reached in, scooped him up and took him out of his confined resting place. John took in his surroundings immediately, a small room with cushioned seats on either side of him. Mycroft sat across from them but they were the only ones in the room, John smelt no one else. Looking around he noticed the window and the scenery flashing past it at an alarming rate.
"John?" Sherlock questioned as the hedgehog hurried from his hand, gracelessly falling to the seat and on his back. He squirmed wildly before getting back to his feet and hurried over to cling to the small ledge at the window and just barely manage to hold himself up to look. He felt despair and frantic seeing the trees fly past, the fields and off in the distance the sea. They were growing more distant from the sea and he could feel it as his own hidden pelt was growing more distant and distant. His proper skein was too far for comfort.
"Perhaps he is having second thoughts Sherlock." Mycroft spoke while hearing the rather panicked squeaks rising from the small creature and filling the room. "Did you even let the little guy know his new 'home' would be so far away from where you found him?"
"I didn't think it was an issue at the time." Sherlock replied while scooping up John into his hands, running his thumb over his small stomach in a comforting manner. John calmed down when seeing the blue eyes stare into his own. John stopped because Sherlock's scent, which vaguely smelt of the forest, filled his nostrils and calmed him. It was oddly comforting to find a scent of another strange species which had the same comforting ability as his mother's own presence but she was gone now and so he would cling to this. It was selfish of John he knew it, to try and replace his lost family with the lonely human boy but at the time he didn't care.
"Are you alright John?" Sherlock asked quietly as Mycroft frowned. Sherlock was showing a rather sudden attachment to the hedgehog named John and he knew it would make things all that harder when the thing passed away. Hedgehogs didn't have notoriously long life spans, especially a wild one made pet. He also knew mother would find out eventually and force Sherlock to return it to the wild. His brother will be devastated, undoubtedly stop talking again and lock himself in his room. He was quite dramatic. John let the tone soothe away his anxieties and let out small, sluggish squeaks and trills to assure his friend he had calmed down.
"My real home and your new home is a lot farther away than Aunt Helena's home, I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."
Mycroft should be concerned for his brother, talking to a hedgehog like a regular individual and treated it even better than his does to any other human. He really should but he keeps his mouth shut as the hedgehog responds to Sherlock. He conveyed his emotions and thoughts in return using different tones and it seemed like John the hedgehog was more than meets the eye and far more intelligent than any wild hedgehog Mycroft knew of.
As it turned out, John stopped missing the sea more and more time spent in his new home. Sherlock included him in all of his experiments and John learned more and more of human life. John learned more and more of humans and less of his own heritage and kind, he was beginning to understand the language better could still only understand and yet only understand few words spoken by Mycroft. Sherlock remained perfectly oblivious of the true nature of John's identity as a Selkie and Mycroft humoured his brother's obsession and friendship to the hedgehog.
"John, I need you to sneak downstairs and fetch me an egg from the kitchen." Sherlock whispered while slipping the tiny orange satchel across John's chest. It was something Sherlock got John so he could sneak around the Holmes manor, undetected, and gather items for Sherlock without him having to leave his bedroom and get caught by his parents or staff. The staff knew of John, recognized the hedgehog and have seen it on many occasions but were paid off by Mycroft to leave the matter alone and not mention a word of it.
John made his climb down the stairs, careful of his leg. Despite Sherlock's medical administrations the muscle which had been torn was still sore and caused him to limp in times of sadness or when he is not distracted by Sherlock's antics. He tumbled off the last step and rolled on the tiled floor, regaining his composure John entered the modern kitchen. The only light from the overhang of the stove. He managed the fridge open and climbed in to the egg-holder within the fridge door. Slipping one into the satchel, John carefully made his way down and closed the fridge door before hurrying for the stairs once more. He quietly and carefully climbed up the long flight of stairs and made his way down the hallway.
"A late-night experiment I assume?" John paused hearing the familiar tone and looked to see Mycroft standing at his bedroom doorway, arms crossed and a brow raised. John tilted his head, he only caught the word 'experiment' as it has been uttered by Sherlock so much. John assumed Mycroft was questioning his motives and linking it to an experiment so he released an affirming grunt and nodded his head before beginning to continue on his way, the egg in the small satchel dragging behind him. Making it back into Sherlock's room, the hedgehog used the cloth hanging from the desk to climb his way and into Sherlock's view where he took the egg and thanked John by rubbing his thumb on his chest in a circular motion. John purred in contentment at the contact and remained on the sidelines as Sherlock continued on with his strange experiment.
As it would seem though, Sherlock's parents had discovered the hedgehog. It was purely by accident. Sherlock was at school, John left at home to wallow in his moment of loneliness while staring out the bedroom window. He could hear the faint arguing between Mrs. and Mr. Holmes about something as well as the thundering footsteps of Mr. Holmes advancing towards the bedroom. John scurried to hide among the mess of sheets on the floor from Sherlock's bed and remained as still and quiet as possible. He knew the procedures towards hiding, get out sight and remain as motionless as possible. Not a single noise uttered from his small mouth. The man roamed into the room with Mrs. Holmes following in after him. He was unsure of what they were arguing about, he only heard Sherlock's name and a few other familiar words now and then but not enough to understand the point of this conversation. He let out a panicked squeak the sheets were lifted and he had dropped to the floor.
The reaction was violent as the woman screamed at the sudden sight of the rodent and the man thus began stomping down in attempts to kill John. John was frantic and scurried wildly in circles and random patterns before being chased from the room. All commotion followed after him as the man chased him through the estate but John knew its layout perfectly and avoided any possible dead ends he could be chased into. Mr. Holmes was relentless in his attempts and was only satisfied as he chased John right out of the house. He rushed across the yard, being yelled at from the house, disappearing into the bushes just outside of the property and waiting there.
The now nine year-old Sherlock had been greatly distressed and sent into a fit when he was told the news. He arrived home with a few stolen bones from the models in his biology class to show off to John and teach him of human anatomy when his mother sat him and told him of what happened. His father stood to the side as did Mycroft but with two different expressions. His father was still glowing in anger at the sight of the rodent in his home but Mycroft remained perfectly stoic. The moment he was told Sherlock rushed to the very doors John had been chased through, standing just outside the doors and calling for the hedgehog.
"John! John come here!" He called frantically, his eyes wide and becoming glossy with oncoming tears threatening to fall.
"For God's sake boy its a rodent!" Mr. Holmes snapped while standing at the door. "It is not a pet and it most certainly won't respond to some ridiculous name such as John."
"No! He will come back!" The boy protested, his voice cracking as he looked back out to the large yard. "John! John you can come back now! John, come on! John!"
"Sherlock just give up." Mycroft spoke quietly, hand placed on his shoulder. "He was a wild animal and is probably already trying to find his way home and after being scared off like that is it likely the hedgehog won't return."
"No! No John has to come back! He's my friend and friends don't abandon each other!" Sherlock protested and rushed halfway across the yard while calling for the hedgehog but there was no sight of him. John was gone and it sunk in finally. Sherlock spent the rest of the day in his room and he did nothing to try and hide his tears or sobs as he locked himself up. The next day Sherlock went silent, refusing to speak with anyone just as Mycroft had predicted long ago. Sherlock didn't eat and stayed up in his room of the library to waste time in the many books. He occupied himself mostly with experiments or learning things and the name John was never allowed to be uttered through the house.
It was after only two days did Sherlock seem to perk up and Mycroft knew exactly why. Sherlock was at his desk, arms folded and head laying on the desk. Eyes half-lidded and red as fresh tears rolled down his cheek. His window was opened and it was the only reason he was able to hear it. A familiar trill whistle which cried out into the night. Lifting his head, Sherlock looked out the window but it was too dark to really see anything. Grabbing a flashlight the little boy hurried outside and pointed the flashlight slowly across the yard.
"John?"
He got a familiar noise to affirm this and soon the light of his flashlight landed on a small hedgehog managing its way through the grass from the wildlife behind it.
"John!" Sherlock dropped the flashlight and rushed over, swooping up the small hedgehog and holding it close to him as it cooed and purred in contentment. Sherlock brought him back inside and up to his room, placing him gingerly on the second pillow before crawling into bed and falling asleep on the other pillow. John would then crawl over and nestle himself in the base of Sherlock's neck under his chin and sleep warmly and contently. Sherlock barely moved when he slept so the hedgehog never feared being crushed.
The next morning Sherlock carried John down to the dining hall and dropped the small hedgehog before his father demanding he apologize for chasing off his friend and also that he be allowed to keep it as a pet. His mother hid her small grin but his father begrudgingly allowed it and Sherlock took some toast with jam up to his room. John was added to the Holmes family as the manor pet, he followed Sherlock everywhere around the house like an overly attached puppy or sometimes got rides on his shoulders. The staff always welcomed the sight of the cute, curious hedgehog which would roam into different rooms of the estate with a tiny orange satchel.
John loved his life at the Holmes estate. He cherished Sherlock dearly and he was treated kindly throughout the manor by every individual. He would never trade this in for any other life but on many occasions John could be caught staring out a window almost listlessly. Sometimes he is seen staring at paintings of coasts but if acknowledged he ignores the painting completely. John loved his life here but his roots were calling to him and he began to miss the sea greatly. Being separated from his pelt and so much distance placed between his old skein for three years has began to put a toll on John's little body. He grew sluggish and sore, tired as he had no refreshing sea water to refresh him. He began to feel a case of insomnia, accidentally waking Sherlock at odds hours of the night with restless squirming and roaming along the bed. He would stop eating and it concerned Sherlock, who ate even less as a way to support his friend.
John would feel hot, too hot to bear, and suddenly have chills come over him. He needed to return to the sea. His health was diminishing due to the long time since he's been even in the sea waters. To feel waves crash against his body and the current take him away and under. John shivered and refused the piece of toast with blueberry jam being offered to him by the frowning Sherlock. John's body quaked with strong shivers and Sherlock took a step back with a frown.
"Mycroft!" The boy rushed from the room as John curled up into a ball, trembling and releasing pained whines. Soon enough Sherlock and Mycroft returned from the room and he ushered him hurriedly over to John. Mycroft frowned seeing the overly shivering hedgehog as it continued to whine in obvious discomfort and pain.
"I don't know what's wrong with him. He can't sleep as much and he won't eat anymore." Sherlock spoke he concerns and Mycroft frowned. He walked over and pressed his index and middle finger to John's still exposed chest to feel for a pulse. His heart beating wildly before calming down and then beating wildly once again. John felt a rush of heat and uncurled completely, pressing to the cool wood of the desk.
"He's certainly coming down with something." Mycroft replied while removing his fingers and John felt spasms hit his muscles. Sherlock watched, obviously terrified and worried beyond belief seeing John's body spasm and contort. John calmed down and nibbled on the toast but spat it back up moments later. Mrs. Holmes agreed to take John to the vet later that afternoon.
Sherlock paced as he waited. His mother would be returning in just moments with a hopefully diagnosed and treated John. When she arrived she carried the hedgehog cradled in the crook of her elbow but frowned at Sherlock's expectant stare.
"He couldn't diagnose John, none of them what is wrong with him. He had a vet on the examination table but his vitals were taken and he seemed perfectly healthy. They said his body is just deteriorating along with his health." She explained as Sherlock approached and very gingerly scooped John back into his hands and held the small creature close. She frowned even more as the boy stared down at John, the hedgehog looking up weakly with the same blue eyes.
"The vet could only recommend the poor thing be put down to be taken out of his misery."
"Put down!" Sherlock immediately spoke up and his mother frowned deeply before kneeling down to his level. "No, we can't! John can't die, we haven't gotten to do so much yet. He can't leave and we won't put him down." Sherlock was adamant on keeping John around as long as he could manage. His mother tried to ease him into the topic of euthanasia and had recruited Mycroft's help but neither could convince Sherlock otherwise and he simply stood by John's side as he slowly died.
At one point, it was quite clear John would not make it another day and Sherlock demanded they go back to Ireland and to Aunt Helena's estate where he first found Sherlock so he could put him back. His mother was a little hesitant but Mycroft volunteered to go with him and so after one silent, long and gruesome train ride did the two find themselves back in Ireland. Mycroft stayed away as Sherlock took John to the very of the backyard and sat down.
"You remember, don't you John?" The hedgehog was weak and could barely lift its head to look at where he was from his spot curled up on Sherlock's lap. "This is where I first found you and we became friends. You were being attacked by Smithers and I rescued you."
John remembered perfectly. The lonely boy that picked him up and became his friends. John remembered because even if he had cured the boy's loneliness, the boy had saved John a miserable life of forever looking for his sister and being alone. Even if he was now quivering and in pain because he had been away from the water for so long, the boy saved him.
"You were a great friend and I won't ever forget you John. No friend will eve be like you." Sherlock fought to keep his voice from shaking and from tears falling as he then moved to place John down just under the very bushes. He felt his heart shatter as the hedgehog became motionless in the soil. Its chest no longer heaving in attempts to breathe, nose wasn't twitching and those brilliant blue eyes were closed. Sherlock sat there all day until evening came by and Mycroft finally herded the crying boy back inside. John, with what little life left in him had managed to wake up the next day and find his way back to the sea. Finding his pet, his old skein, he dove into the water and was rushed with relief at the refreshing sensation. He swam far from the shore, memories of his time with Sherlock fresh in his mind as his health began to revitalize. He would never forget Sherlock Holmes and he would make sure to return to him one day again.
John remained in the sea for three years, he traveled to a different coast for two years after that and remained on land for a full year before again reuniting with Sherlock Holmes.