Disclaimer: I own nothing. And I have no excuses for this. It is the love child of His last vow and Dear Spangley. I know that I should have killed this in my womb, but I couldn't. So now you get...
(metem)Psychosis
Prologue
He knew what was happening. Of course he knew. He was a clever boy. Everyone said so.
They were going to put him down. It was the kindest thing to do. He was in pain. He was...ruined.
If he could have talked, he'd have told them – with all due respect, of course – not to be idiots. He could take pain, and brokenness.
What he couldn't bear was to forsake his Sherlock. His boy. The one he played with. The one he cuddled. The one he comforted when Mycroft was being a cold-hearted bastard. Sherly would get lonely without him. Were they all blind?
Alas, Redbeard couldn't very well make his point known. No matter how clever, his inter-species communication skills were still sorely limited. No one understood him. He only whimpered as the needle pierced his vein and the Phenobarbital flooded his system. Euthanasia. The "kind thing", they called it. There was nothing kind in forcing him to let go of the life – of the people – he loved. He died full of regret.
He expected nothing. Dreamless sleep, perhaps – that's what they had said. 'Put him to sleep.'
He didn't foresee the soft, compassionate voice who, after the deed, asked, "Why so sad, little one?"
Redbeard couldn't see the speaker. Not that it mattered. "I didn't want to leave," he admitted honestly. It wasn't like he'd get in trouble for telling an unwanted truth. They couldn't do him any worse than what had already happened. "Sherly – he's going to be sad, and so lonely now...That's just wrong. I was the only one he had to play with. He won't have me to comfort him. He doesn't like going to his parents for that. So tell me, whoever you are, how could I ever be fine with leaving him?"
"Do you want to go back? I can send you back, to be reborn. If you're really destined to be together, he'll find you again," the god – Redbeard supposed – offered.
"Um, could you do something else instead?" he countered. (Might as well make the most of the situation, right?)
"I can probably fulfil whatever you wish. Ask away, lovely one," the voice replied.
'Probably'? Not all-powerful then. Likely not God, then? Angel?...As long as he got what he wanted, who cared? "Can I be a human? I think that Sherly needs a playmate of his own kind. He hasn't got any of those. Mycroft is too fat and boring," he pleaded.
"If you want. It's very thoughtful of you, you know. You care for Sherlock very much, don't you?" the kind one remarked.
"He's mine," Redbeard stated simply.
"Well then, you'll be reborn soon," the voice announced.
"Wait!" the dog interjected hurriedly. "Will I be a pup – sorry, a newborn?"
"Yes, of course."
"So I'll have with Sherly more or less the age difference he has with his brother," Redbeard reasoned.
"And that is a problem because?" the voice queried.
"What if Sherly finds me annoying and not worthy to play with because I'm too young for him? What if he behaves toward me the way Mycroft does towards him? Can you help with that?" They were very sensible worries, after all.
"A little time manipulation to make you more or less the same age as your friend. Don't see why not. Anything else?" the god/angel/whatever inquired.
"Oh no. I'll take it from there," Redbeard assured. He was sure he would do splendidly as long as he could meet Sherlock again.
"Oh, and of course I'll make sure you keep your memories intact, otherwise there'd be no point. Don't worry. You'll be back into the world soon. Then you'll be on your own. Don't waste your chance," the creature warned.
As if he would.