Title: No Words.
Author: acire0214
Characters/Pairings: Holmes/Watson, Gladstone and Mycroft (who is a puppy, named after Holmes' brother)
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 330
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Summary: Gladstone's take on a relaxing afternoon.
Based completely off of today's rping on at twitter(dot)com/JohnMfingWatson/the-twitterverse. My god, it damn near broke my heart, and so after everything was resolved and a thunderstorm him my home, I was relaxed and so inspired.
It was relatively quiet in the confines of 221b's sitting room. The silence lent itself to other rooms in the house, filtering through the dust and trinkets lying about to settle like a comforting blanket. Outside a storm rolled in, gentle thunder rumbling through the clouds, with lightning flickering like a candle's flame. The air was heavy with moisture that had yet to fall.
Gladstone was sprawled out on the tiger skin, little Mycroft curled under his chin. Soft snores could be heard from the pup, and he snuggled closer to Gladstone as a cool breeze swirled in through a cracked window. The smell of rain grew thicker and Gladstone welcomed it: after all his pack had been through, a cleansing storm was all that was needed to wash away the tension of the past few days.
Watson and Holmes were lying entwined atop the settee, covered in nothing but a light blanket that had been fetched as an afterthought by Gladstone, as he'd brought Mycroft out of hiding. He could hear the gentle sighs and murmurs of contentment coming from his masters, glancing in their direction he watched them exchange loving kisses and nuzzles. Lethargic yawns left them in turns, sleepy smiles spread across their faces, and they drifted off, content for the first time in days. Gladstone had never seen life mates more deserving of happiness.
Thunder growled directly over the house, and an electric charge surged through the air, but instead of transporting them to a world completely foreign to their own, it took with it all the misery that had accumulated in a brilliant flash of light that left soft pinpricks of color blinking in Gladstone's vision.
The humidity in the air finally broke and with the chorus of a thousand drops of water, the heavens poured themselves onto the street of London. Gladstone closed his eyes, and fell into a pleasant slumber.
And the silence was broken only by the sounds of breathing, and rain.