Title: Obedient Pet

Author: A Shining Silver Star

Pairing: Sherlock/John

Warnings: Small D/s relationship

Summary/Author Note: An asked for sequel to Loyal Pet. I enjoy reading D/s relationships so I decided to go this route. However if no one likes my choice I'd be happy to write them an alternate sequel if they wish. If you do like D/s relationships than enjoy. And I apologize in advance if it stinks. I had to rewrite a lot of it a ridiculous amount of times but I'm still not too happy with it.~

Sherlock Holmes refused to admit that it took him longer than usual to deduce what was wrong with John Watson. The man, since day one, had been both predictable and a mystery to the consulting detective. Man was something that Sherlock had no data on and it was no help that John was man in the purest form.

He felt with every emotion to the extreme. He laughed and smiled with joy, cried in sadness, and screamed in anger; anger usually directed at Sherlock.

He had morals and empathy and sympathy. Things that Sherlock had all deemed worthless and deleted.

One thing John had never been, however, was reflective and still. He was always alive with motion and emotion, always feeling.

Something at the pool with Moriarity had changed the ex army doctor. Since that day John would stop and just stare, his eyes seeing nothing. His normally upright army posture would hunch into itself and his hand would drift up to his throat as if something was choking him.

What bothered Sherlock is that he didn't know what had changed him. Was it the bomb that had been strapped to John's chest? The guns pointed at them? Near death put a spark of fear in anyone, army veteran or not. Especially one that had been wounded in combat.

Sherlock mulled over those ideas for only a second before discarding them in the trash. None of their actions would cause John to reach for his throat like he had been doing. So if not something that was done by any of them than it had to have been something that was said between the three of them. Nothing said between himself and John would have affected the other man so much so it had to had have been something Moriarity had come up with.

For three hours Sherlock replayed every word, every syllable, the consulting criminal had said and for three hours Sherlock could not find the answer. He paced up and down up and down the small living room, planted firmly in his mental palace. And yet, for the first time he could not come up with anything. Growling in frustration he called for John, desperately needing some of the doctor's wonderful tea.

"Yes, Sherlock?" John stepped into the living room from the direction of his bedroom exactly two point five minutes later. His eyes were still half-closed and his hair was sticking up in every direction. He had obviously just woken up from a very deep sleep.

Sherlock stopped pacing, his eyes fixated on John in surprise.

"What Sherlock? It's three o' clock in the morning and I have a shift at the surgery today. I would like to get back to bed within the next five minutes please." John's voice was full of exasperation and weariness; his hand desperately rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Sherlock glanced at the clock on the wall confirming the time. It was three o' clock in the morning. And John had woken up from a necessary sleep just because Sherlock called for him. He hadn't even told him what he had wanted. And yet the man had come down anyway. But why did Sherlock care now? He had never before. Never cared about bothering the man. He had even had the doctor cross the entire town of London just to have him text a murderer with John's own phone. So why did he care now?

"You came down." Sherlock took a step towards the other man and stopped. "You came down just because I called. Why?" He took another step, putting himself right in front of John.

"I don't know. I guess I just assumed you wanted something like you always do so I just- why do you want to know now anyways? You never cared before." He watched as John grabbed the door jam next to him and his other hand reach for his throat, a normal gesture Sherlock had only begun to notice the other man do for the past couple of weeks. He grabbed the hand, stopping it right before it closed around the slim neck.

"That's something I'm trying to figure out. I do know however that something Moriarity said at the pool got to you. Something he said made you realize something, changed something in you. Something that makes you stop and stare into nothing and grab at your throat. What was it John? What did that bastard say that got to you so much?" Sherlock pushed himself even closer to John, keeping hold of the rough callused hand in his own smooth pale one. His brain raced through the conversation between the three of them once again. He was close. He knew it.

"I don't- it's nothing Sherlock. Nothing I can't handle. Now let go and tell me what you needed earlier so I can get it for you and go back to bed."

Sherlock paused. Why would John still care about what Sherlock wanted him for earlier? Why did the other man always do what Sherlock told him to? Sure John complained about it a lot and got angry quite a bit but he never once refused to fetch Sherlock tea or lend him his laptop or anything. He always did it like he was a dog fetching for his mas- And then it clicked. His mind settled everything into place like it did on cases and Sherlock knew.

"It was the pet analogy wasn't it? Moriarity called you my 'loyal pet' said that's why I like keeping you around. And at the time you didn't think about it, just let it go into the back of your mind. As did I. But something made you realize, made you think, that in a way you are. You follow me everywhere without a second thought. You fetch me things even when it's inconvenient for you. Like now. You complain, but you never once refuse.

"But why John? Why do you never refuse? You can you know. You're my friend John, not my servant or my butler. My only friend really." Sherlock kept his gaze locked on John, not letting him look away. Sherlock needed the answer more than anything he had ever needed in his life. He may only be knowledgeable in human emotion to the point where he could use it to get what he wanted but something in John made Sherlock want to feel for real. Made Sherlock want to feel happiness, sadness, anger, love for real.

They stood there in a silence for what felt like hours while John seemed to battle with himself. Finally something in him won and he slumped in defeat against the door jam, his hand gripping Sherlock's own, like he didn't want the detective to let go.

"Because I don't want to refuse. I- I follow you into dangerous situations because I worry about you but mostly because I know that I can trust you to keep me safe. I haven't felt safe once in my entire life. My parents pretty much ignored Harry and I and I ended up having to raise her on my own. I had three part-time jobs to pay the bills and keep the house because they were too busy partying and getting drunk all the time. Once Harry hit eighteen and started following their path, I left, worked my way through med school and joined the army the day after I graduated.

"In the army I was always having to watch my back. I woke up every morning wondering if I would die that day. I watched people die day after day after day because I couldn't help all of them. Getting injured was the best thing that had happened to me then. After getting discharged I met up with Mike accidentally and he led me to you. I couldn't explain it at the time, not even to myself, why I did everything you told me to do. I went after dangerous criminals with you and I even took the risk of being blown up just to save you. I didn't even think about what Moriarity had said that day until one night a couple of weeks ago.

"You were bored and had been playing your violin one night and I was exhausted and had a terrible headache. And then what Moriarity had said came back to me. I am like a loyal pet to you. I was angry about it at first. I was angry at Moriarity for making me realize it and at myself for realizing I couldn't stop coming back to you even if I didn't like it. Every second of every day since then it had haunted me.

"But then that anger slowly softened into a feeling I had never felt before: safety. It me realize that for once in my life I belong somewhere; that for once someone else can call the shots and all I had to do was follow them. But I also knew that I couldn't blindly follow anyone into danger. It could only be you Sherlock. I like fetching you things. I like making you happy even if you don't show it or believe in emotion. I could never do it for anyone else. Making you happy makes me happy Sherlock. Loving you makes me happy. Being your loyal pet is something I've wanted for a very long time. And I'm said that it took a psychotic consulting criminal to make me realize that.

"You don't have to do anything about it though Sherlock. I won't ask you of that. I couldn't. The only thing I do ask though, is please don't kick me out. I don't think I could live without you as cliché as that sounds. Please Sherlock. Everything can go back to normal, I won't even mention this again. Just let me keep living here. Let me keep doing things for you. Please."

For once in his life Sherlock was speechless. Never before had anyone entrusted him, him, to keep them safe. Never before had someone blindly risk their lives for his before. Never before had someone loved him as much as he knew John Watson did right now. And never in his life had Sherlock felt love for another human being. Until now.

"Why do you reach for your throat sometimes?" Sherlock didn't know why he asked it, didn't know why he hadn't addressed any of the other things John had just hit him with. But it was one more thing he needed to know before they discussed anything else.

"I, it's embarrassing and nothing you need to worry about. I promise. Are you going to kick me out?" Sherlock watched as John's hand unconsciously tugged against his and try to reach for his throat.

"I'll answer all of that in a second John. What I need to know is why you reach for your throat like you're doing right now. I want the truth John. Now." Sherlock put a touch of force behind his command certain from the new information just presented to him that John would react better to that than a pleasantly asked question. John ducked his and stared blankly at their hands.

"Well, you know how owners put collars and a tag on their pets so they can walk them on leashes or so they can be returned to them easily if they get lost? I guess I just wanted that safeguard and that extra touch that I belong to you. It's embarrassing and stupid and sick and I told you it was nothing and I'm sorry and please don't kick me-"

"Would you like that John?" Sherlock interrupted the other man's rant, that new feeling rushing through him again. Love. And even a touch of affection he thought. "Would you like a collar and tag with my name on it? Would you like to walk at the end of my leash?" He brought their joined hands up the John's neck brushing against it lightly with his fingers. How would he feel, having his name on John like that? Seeing John's eyes glow with hope at his words makes him think he just might like it.

"You would really let me? Does, does this also mean you aren't kicking me out? And that you want me?" Sherlock let out a light laugh at the other man's words.

"John, I have never owned a pet in my life be it human or animal. I know I am not the best at taking care of myself so I don't know how I will be at taking care of someone else. I know I am also not the best at real emotions but I think that you are the perfect person who can teach me. And with you John, I am willing to try. No, I want to try. So yes, this means that I am not kicking you out. And yes, this most definitely means that I want you. And I will be getting you a collar first thing in the morning. I would be very sad indeed if my puppy went missing and no one knew who he belonged too."

Sherlock drew the smaller man into a hug, their joined hands trapped between them, while his free one ruffled the hair on the back of John's head.

"I never thought you would actually accept me. I was willing to just keep living the way we had been. Thank you Sherlock. Thank you so much."

"Figuring you out was more difficult than any case I have ever worked on. But the end result is far more satisfying than a case will ever be. And you are welcome John. Most certainly welcome. Now you have work tomorrow so let's go to bed. We'll discuss everything else in the morning like ground rules and things like that." Sherlock shut off the light to the living room and pulled John into the direction of the room only to stop at a slight tug on his hand.

"What is it John?"

"Can I…can I call you Master?"

Sherlock felt a little jolt of pleasure shoot through him at the word and he knew then that he was going to enjoy this new relationship very much.

"Of course John. Now bed. Its late."

"Yes Master, thank you Master." And John obediently followed his new owner into the bedroom, thanking Moriarity silently in his head. He was Sherlock's loyal pet and nothing would stop him from always coming back for more.