Title: The Issuance
Author: Hikaru R. Kudou
Characters: Holmes, Watson, Gladstone, with brief appearances by Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson
Pairings: Pre-slash H/W
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes 2009 movie, with some mentions of the their meeting in canonical The Study in Scarlet
Rating: G or PG
Summary: Gladstone's fate is pretty much sealed when Holmes has decided its role in his life.
DISCLAIMER: Standard disclaimers apply. Unfortunately.
Author's Notes: Apologies if the plotline has been tackled to be similar to any existing ones out there. Oh, and there might be a short epilogue following this …
Warnings: Un-beta'ed, and that I have not written for the longest time. So there. Still, enjoy the ride!
The first time Holmes heard of Gladstone's existence he paid little attention than he should have. Granted, Watson himself at the time of their first meeting referred to the little animal as its species, nothing more.
The first time Holmes laid his eyes on the dog, he could only blink several times. Whatever possibilities he had entertained as to how the dog could contribute to his cases (as a hound dog, perhaps?) or to the general security of their lodgings (Holmes's trade would made him a target for attacks, with numerous criminals keen to see him out), had just flown out of the window. Bulldogs were supposed to be a powerful breed, were they not? On the contrary, the dog before him was an epitome of how sedentary lifestyle would shape you.
There was also the issue of Watson's attachment to the dog. Watson and Holmes were still in the early stage of friendship, so they could hardly be expected to warm up to each other so soon. Or, more accurately, Holmes was too busy with his cases and Watson, who was still in the midst of figuring out what Holmes's trade was, was left behind.
"Very well," Watson said one day, when Holmes had begged him to grant him and Lestrade some privacy to discuss an important business in the sitting room. "I shall take Gladstone out for a walk."
Once he and Gladstone were out of the door, Lestrade remarked, "The doctor seems to be spending more time with his dog than with you."
Holmes's eyebrow twitched once at the truth in the inspector's words. He also wondered how Gladstone did not appear to be thinning down despite the frequent walks Watson had been taking him for.
"The doctor has not returned, I take it?" Mrs. Hudson said as she served him tea later in the same day.
"No, he has not." Holmes's answer was curt.
"Mr. Holmes, perhaps you should engage Dr. Watson more. He is spending more time with his dog than with you, his housemate."
The twitch came again. It was the second time he had that particular unpleasant fact pointed out to him that day alone.
He was, he admitted to himself, rather attracted to the doctor. Amiable, earnest, bright and good-looking, Holmes found in Dr Watson an agreeable companion. But he needed time to make sure that the basis for this attraction was not just a minor curiosity, but something deeper.
This sentiment was alien to him, and he could not comprehend it. But he did know one thing: He was losing - to a dog. The dog.
"Why, Mrs. Hudson, I did not know that you double as our personal nanny," Holmes retorted with some sarcasm.
Mrs. Hudson smiled with a brand of her own cheek. "Oh, you, Mr. Holmes, certainly need one, despite your age."
That was how the landlady became "Nanny".
Several days later Holmes was compelled to carry out a long overdue experiment which involved a strong anaesthetic he just procured from the East and white mice.
Watson came back from the tobacco store and was greeted by one mouse scurrying past him, making him jump slightly without loosening his grip on his purchase. The sight of the second and third nice scouring their apartment, however, almost made his jaw drop to make way for an earth-shattering groan of disbelief.
"Oh, you are home. Close the door, quick! Don't let them escape to the kitchen!"" Holmes said, crawling out from under his desk. "Fear not, my dear doctor, our home is not in the process of being overrun by vermin. The dog knocked against the cage that they were in, releasing them the moment I turned away from them. I have so far been able to recapture two of the rodents."
"...And how many remain?" asked Watson, half-fearful.
"Six. With your help we should be able to have the situation under control."
"Holmes, please enlighten me if you will—"
"I should think that it was quite evident," replied Holmes in mild disdain. "I was merely testing a newly acquired anaesthetic and the correlation between doses and duration of action."
Watson frowned, somewhat offended to have his level of intelligence looked down upon. He sighed in both annoyance and defeat. "No. I meant to say that I could not see why you cannot perform your experiments in a proper laboratory."
"Simply because my notes are here, and I am too impatient in testing my hypotheses to make the journey."
"But my dear man—"
"Hush, doctor! This is no time for idle conversations!" Holmes dived underneath the chair, with his arms outstretched in front of him, the second he caught sight of another mouse. He succeeded, raising an eyebrow at Watson triumphantly as he held his squirming captive. "If the dog is capable of chasing after mice, I would have spared you this task."
It took them two hours to round the eight escaped mice. Watson was not amused to find one of his best hats had became an unfortunate casualty in the predicament, with the rim chewed on and perforated.
"Holmes," said Watson in between breaths, when he and Holmes had settled to the floor to make sure the cage would hold its white, furry occupants. "If you want to continue this experiment, I insist that you do so elsewhere."
"But Watson—"
The former army doctor held up a stern hand, employing a tone that he usually reserved for the most recalcitrant of his patients. "I do not want mice roaming in this establishment. They could bring disease to all of us. Mrs. Hudson would be very unhappy."
Holmes opened his mouth to protest vehemently - Holmes found Watson's concern of Mrs. Hudson over Holmes himself terribly unbecoming and thus needed urgent and serious correction - but he pursed them quickly when something else in one corner of the sitting room caught his attention.
For a fleeting moment, Watson saw a suspicious light flicker in his companion's shrewd eyes. He would soon learn to be weary of this little clue.
Watson sighed again, standing up to retrieve the sleeping Gladstone. As he carried his pet into his room, he had an uneasy feeling that Holmes never took his eyes off them.
That was how Gladstone the dog, Dr. John H. Watson's pet, was promoted to the position of Mr. Sherlock Holmes's personal guinea pig.