How long has it been since the last update? Wayyy to long, thats for sure. Doesn't it suck that life gets in the way of doing things you enjoy?
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The streets of London were strangely empty for this time of night - the air was brisk, but a only a light jacket was necessary for John and Rosie to feel comfortable. Sherlock had decided that he needed to expand his research on flesh-eating bacteria from Baker street to John's fridge, which meant everything was tossed, and Rosie had gotten to go out to eat every night until Sherlock had gotten rid of every piece of disease-riddled flesh that had been stored.
Mr. Jiang from two doors down had slipped Rosie some vouchers for the restaurant his granddaughter waitressed at as a thank you for rescuing the water chesnuts and carrots that attempted to roll away after his plastic sack split up the side.
John had taken it as a sign that he and Rosie should eat something besides the instant noodles that the Panda Express two blocks south served, so they hopped on the nearest subway and rode it a few kilometers south and then walked the rest of the way to the restaurant, which was located down a small side street on the very edge of Chinatown.
Their meals were nice enough, a little heavy on the soy sauce, but the staff was friendly and they received free egg rolls, so John couldn't complain. Rosie picked all of the carrots out from her stir-fry and John pretended not to notice in lieu of having a quiet meal out with his daughter.
Forty-five minutes later, sufficiently full and smelling of fried rice, father and daughter walked together towards Baker Street, where Mrs. Hudson had asked them to drop by to pick up a tin of biscuits that she had prepared for them. Rosie danced on ahead of John, trying to jumo from streetlamp to streetlamp without straying from the circular beams of light.
"Toss over your wallet and no one gets hurt." Time seemed to freeze as a man jumped out from the shadows. Light from a street lamp glinted off silver in his hand.
John stiffened, "Rosamund, walk towards me, slowly," he hissed, eyes never leaving the gun barrel that was wavering dangerously close to his daughter. To her credit, Rosie hadn't so much as flinched, but her wide eyes showed how aware of the gravity of the situation she was. She stared at her father, unblinking, and inched forward.
"Don't move!" Rosie jerked to a halt as the man shouted again, "Just stay where you are!" Any thought that John might of had of pulling his gun from its holster was immediately quashed from his mind when the man stepped closer to his daughter and grabbed the collar of Rosie's jacket.
"Okay," John held out his hands, "Okay, I'm going to reach into my pocket and toss you my wallet. Just, let's not do anything rash."
"Gun, drop your gun! What, are you a cop!?"
"Dad…" Rosie's voice wavered
Something came darting out from the shadows and knocked the man away from Rosie. She stumbled forward a bit but caught her footing and bolted forward to cower behind John, who already had his gun drawn and aimed at the would-be robber who was now yelling and writhing on the ground with a black mass on top of him.
After making sure Rosie was out of harm's way, John advanced cautiously, the soldier in him ready to engage, but the father in him hyper-aware of his daughter a few steps away. Now that his adrenaline was pumping, the black mass took the shape of an animal, which now stood over the man, growling and baring its teeth.
"Rosie," John called over his shoulder softly, "Call the police, and tell them to bring animal control along."
There was no response, but John had no doubts that his daughter was already on the phone with emergency services.
The animal seemed disinterested in the other two humans, but John kept his gun steady until he heard sirens and a squad car came zooming around the corner. He holstered his gun just as it screetched to a halt.
A uniformed man and woman leaped out of the car and rushed over, one taking out a set of handcuffs, and the other approaching John cautiously. "Are you and your daughter alright, sir?"
John nodded tersely and looked behind him to get confirmation from Rosie, but she was no longer there.
Instead, she was a few yards away, sitting up against a phone box and happily rubbing the stomach of a mangy looking German Shepard whose tongue was lolling out of his mouth and tail was waving back and forth wildly.
"Rosamund!"
She pouted but stood up. The dog rolled over and John immediately noticed that one of its legs was missing and there was a chunk out of its left ear as well as a long, crooked scar running along the length of its face.
"You have no idea where it came from! I've told you not to pet strays."
"But its not a stray. He saved us!"
"It could have rabies, or be feral. It just attacked a man, for God's sake."
"He saved us."
The policewoman checked her scanner, "The dog warden will be here in a few minutes, but I need to get your statements before I can let you leave."
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Rosie wasn't speaking to John. She had taken personal offense that he hadn't let her take the stray back with them and had instead watched as the dog catcher pulled up and carted it away. His daughter had pleaded and complained to anyone who would even pretend to listen, but it was all for naught.
John had put his foot down.
Rosie was having none of it.
"Did you know that only 10% of dogs will find a forever home?" Rosie spoke to her dad for the first time in two days.
"Fascinating..." John didn't look up from the blog post he was writing.
"Sherlock, did you know that 2.7 million dogs and cats are killed each year because shelters are too full?"
"What a travesty. Is there a vial of Batrachotoxin sitting in that teacup?" Sherlock's eyes never left his microscope.
John snapped his laptop shut. "How many times have I told you, Sherlock- no bringing poisonous substances our home."
There was a loud huff of indignation from where Sherlock was seated, but no formal complaint was launched.
"German Sheperds are extremely loyal and highly intelligent." Rosie announced to no one in particular.
"Good to know, if only you spent as much time studying your maths as you did pulling info from the SPCA website."
She plastered on a grimace, "It's not funny, Dad. You don't even care that he saved us." There was a fiery spark in her eyes that reminded him of Mary's when she was ready to launch into an impassioned tirade because they both were being particularly difficult. And he knew from experience that that meant she wasn't going to forget about it any time soon.
"Fine. If I go check to make sure the dog's okay will you stop spouting facts and let me write this blog piece in peace?"
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John had never been to the pound before.
Not that it was a place where people typically went to hang out in their spare time. It was louder than the pet store - and smelled worse too- and there was something in the air that was either the stench of ammonia or dog urine. John didn't care to find out which it was.
Behind the front desk a stick thin woman with sunken cheeks and a mildly amused expression clicked away at her computer.
John cleared his throat.
"Oh, sorry," she clicked once more and John saw the game she had been playing disappear from the screen. "Didn't hear you come in. What can I help you with?"
"Uh, I'm looking for a dog- a German Shepherd that was probably brought in earlier this week."
"Uh huh, I know him. Got a nasty scar right here?" She pointed to her right eye. "He yours?"
"No." But at the woman's confused reaction, John gave a short explanation about the events of the previous night and Rosie's determination to drive him crazy with her incessant pestering.
The woman, who shared that she had a great-niece who had the same unabashedness as his daughter, took him to the back where the strays were kept.
The German Sheperd was unmistakeable as the one who had jumped from the shadows that night, and it seemed he recognized John too, as he trotted as gracefully as possible to the front of his cage and barked once. After assurance that he was perfectly healthy, John bent down and gave him a few pats on the head.
The woman rubbed the back of her neck.
"Do you want my honest opinion? I'd give him a week or two. He's obviously been on the streets for a while, its unlikely anyone will claim him. And," she lowered her voice as if ashamed of her next words, "he's sweet, but not the most able-bodied creature. Who wants to take care of a disabled dog?"
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Rosie was folding her tenth oragami swan of the afternoon when she heard her father's keys jangling against the door handle. As an exercise, she was trying to perfect a nearly useless skill every week. There were about two hundred paper swans scattered around the flat, as well as stuffed in her locker and bookbag at school. Her father kept complaining that she left them around to be stepped on, so as she heard the door swing open, Rosie hopped down from her perch on the counter and picked up the few that she had knocked onto the floor earlier.
Something wet and rough slid up the length of her face and she gasped. "Gladstone!"
Her father, though not shocked that she had already named the dog, watched them warily, "This is temporary, only a week or two," he warned, "just until someone claims him."
Rosie paid no heed, and when she came home from school early three days later, and discovered her father absentmindedly stroking the ears of Gladstone as he lolled on the floor beside John's favorite chair, she knew that she had nothing to fear.
Operation Canine: complete
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I hope you enjoyed! Hopefully I'll have a bit more time to write this summer, but I'm slowly realizing that being an adult sucks.Please leave feedback, and if you have any ideas for what you would like to see included as a part of Rosie's story, be sure to let me know!best,AlyKat16