TEEN!AU. This is something that will (hopefully, maybe, hopefully) one day be included in an awesome AU!Teen fic me and my super duper BFF are writin'. So... It's a bit random and I wasn't going to publish it but I was FORCED so ENJOY.
Gladstone.
"Guess what."
Sherlock already knew.
"You go-"
"No, no, ask questions! Don't just guess, you have to guess! But also with questions."
Sherlock rolled onto his side to be met with wide brown eyes and the biggest grin he'd seen John wearing since… Well, last night actually…
"I never guess."
"Well, you're going to now so shut up and GUESS."
Well, only a crazy person would say no to that face…
"OK, is it-"
"WE GOT A PUPPY!"
Sherlock blinked, "You didn't even give me chance to guess…"
"I was too excited to wait," John sniffed sheepishly with a nibble of his lip before pressing on with renewed excitement "A puppy, though. A PUPPY! AND HE'S SO CUTE!"
Sherlock scowled noticeably. Puppies were not cute as far as he was concerned "Yes, John. A puppy. Well done, what's it called?"
"GUESS!"
Sherlock waited exactly 10 seconds before opening his mouth.
"I-"
"I inadvertently named him after a chemist," John interrupted, now practically vibrating on the bed next to him.
"Alright, chemist, got you. Is-"
"But I originally named him after a cricketer," John then continued.
This time, Sherlock waited exactly 20 seconds before opening his mouth.
"OK, well-"
"And his name seemed perfect because-" at this point, John was seen to actually swallow back a giggle, "He's Small."
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Alright, I think I know."
"That was very quick!" John gushed with a wriggle.
"Well, you were hardly stingy with your clues, you know. I think I need to teach you how guessing games actually work because-"
"GLADSTONE! After Gladstone Small. But also, accidentally after William Ewart Gladstone… The chemist… Gladstone Small is the cricketer, obviously…"
"Yes, obviously," Sherlock said with a cheeky smirk and a roll of his eyes.
"Wanna meet him?" John said, already getting up to leave the room.
"Do I have a choice?"
"Nope" John called over his shoulder.
Sherlock rolled back onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with his fingers laced together on his stomach, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine what sort of dog would suit John Watson. He didn't get in much thinking time, however, as the familiar squeak of John's bedroom door filled the room.
"That was quick, I've been thinking, and without opening my eyes, I'm going to guess that the breed of dog you have is-"
Sherlock froze. He could hear a prominent snuffling that definitely wasn't John Watson…
He slowly rolled onto his stomach and peered over the edge of the bed to see a wrinkly bulldog puppy sniffing at the hem of John's bedcovers, pawing it occasionally as if trying to figure out how to make it come down to his level.
"Hello there," Sherlock's sing-song tone surprised even himself as the puppy looked up and squinted at him, glad to finally see the person responsible for the very un-John scent in the room, "And already I can tell you're John Watson's dog. We've known each other less than a minute and you're interrupting my guessing like a pro."
The dog gave a high pitched woof in Sherlock's general direction before he began to manically circle the bed for a path up to the mattress, his whimpering becoming louder and louder as he failed to find a convenient puppy sized ramp.
"Oh come here, you daft git," Sherlock sighed, leaning down over the bed to scoop the pup up and drop him with a flump onto the pillow next to him, "There, now stop crying. Where's John got to? You're not a very good guard dog, are you? Running off and leaving him."
Gladstone, however, was uninterested in what Sherlock had to say, instead plodding down the bed, following the line of Sherlock's long legs to get to his feet, scrambling half-way over one ankle to sit lopsidedly across his legs and sniff his feet.
"Animals are so strange…" Sherlock muttered to himself, watching with increasing intrigue as the puppy tried to heave the rest of his body over Sherlock's leg, wriggling with escalating fervour until eventually Sherlock tilted his leg up and watched as Gladstone rolled over into a heap between his feet.
When Gladstone finally got his bearings, he let his tongue poke lazily out of his mouth before bounding up the bed to belly flop onto Sherlock's stomach. He wriggled on the spot for a moment before pulling his paws out from under him and shuffling up Sherlock's body until his muzzle was resting on Sherlock's chin.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock murmured, careful not to move his jaw too deliberately so as not to disturb the puppy resting his head on his chin.
Without very much warning at all Gladstone began lapping lazily at Sherlock's chin.
"You are disgusting," Sherlock said fondly as Gladstone yawned and nuzzled into his neck.
"Thanks, I don't think much of you either," John grinned from the door, arms folded and leaning against the frame, "I searched the whole house for him, but looks like he wanted to find you for himself."
"I think he found me," Sherlock said through frozen chin as Gladstone nuzzled further into the curve of his neck, rolling over onto his back and nudging at Sherlock's ear with his back paw, "John, this is getting a bit uncomfortable now."
John sniggered before crawling his way up the bed and nudging Gladstone back down to Sherlock's stomach, where he then rolled over to his stomach, pushing his tiny, wrinkled face into Sherlock's t-shirt and snuffling contentedly.
John stared at Sherlock smugly before curling into his side, running a finger up and down Gladstone's back.
"Told you he was cute," he sniffed, prodding Sherlock in the calf with his big toe.
"Whatever," Sherlock smiled, revelling in his new, second most-favoured hot water bottle.
