Disclaimer: still not owning a single thing. Just playing around.
Mike was actually looking forward to today's round. Finally he could go without his heart constricting in worry for the little garter. He had to be hungry by now – there was no way the reptile would refuse the tasty toad. At least that was what the pudgy man would have sworn.
When the cuddle pile included once again what should have been lunch, Stamford sighed and shook his head. That was it. He'd been putting this off too long, clearly. Hopefully not irreparably longer. The boss would have his head if Sherlock died because he'd dillydallied.
He finished his feeding round quickly and went to find a box. Since he was going to see Sarah already, he might as well bring his new toad friend, too. He took the amphibian first – lame as he was, it was less probable that he would be difficult to catch. Like the previous time, as soon as Mike held one of his friends, the snake wound itself tightly against his wrist. This time though, the man only smiled.
As soon as they were out of the terrarium, John croaked, "Sherlock, run!" The snake, instead, only squeezed tighter his caretaker's limb. Once they were trapped in the entirely empty, little box, the toad chided harshly, "Are you stupid, Sherlock? That was your occasion to run away! Why didn't you after all your grumbling? You might not have another occasion."
"You've been brought in as food, John! I'm not allowing you to end up in the stomach of who knows which creature," the garter snake hissed back, just as angrily.
"Not that I'm not grateful for the thought, but what do you expect to do even if it is true?" the toad wondered. His new friend was long, yes, but thin, and – by his own admission – underfed. Not the best condition to face a fight, honestly. If he'd just caught the occasion, he would be free. And yes, John might end up being dead. But to be objective, he would have soon been in the pond, too. If he managed to reach the water without being flattened first.
"You'll see," Sherlock promised darkly. What John did see was the snake wrapping himself around him in an evidently possessive coil, and – as soon as the box's lid was removed – springing up and hissing in his best threatening tone. The show ended quickly and miserably when a forked stick pinned the reptile unceremoniously, despite his attempts to dodge it. Then, gloved hands pried forcibly John from him. It didn't matter that Sherlock's hold had become almost painful in his desperation not to let go.
All the while, the new human was tut-tutting, clearly unimpressed with his antics. The garter snake hated on sight her and her obnoxious smell. He fought to free himself, but to no avail. He called for John, who'd gone very quiet, perhaps not to betray how upset he was, but Sherlock couldn't understand his friend's answer, half because the way she held the toad dampened the noise and hald because the reptile was almost out of his mind with panic.
Would he have to watch John fed to someone else? He didn't want to! Why couldn't his stupid species close their eyes? She was touching John's hurt leg. Was she going to tear it off? His friend was a toad, not a fucking lizard, and that wasn't a tail anyway! If the amphibian had to die, at least he deserved to die whole. Another snake would not need to have him diced into chunks. What kind of beast did she mean to feed him to?
Thankfully, that was an unfounded fear. The odd-smelling stranger did not rip John apart, just did something Sherlock didn't understand – and he didn't like not understanding. Then, smiling (it was a good thing in bipeds, was it not?), she laid him in a new, blissfully empty cage. The toad was very quiet. Possibly asleep? Not dead – not yet – they wouldn't store dead food-to-be in cages, would they? It was so confusing.
Then she came back for him. Lashing out did nothing to protect himself. What followed was… unpleasant, and awkward, but not truly painful, and clearly not as dangerous as he would have thought. The garter snake would still do his best to delete the experience as soon as possible, though.
The white-coated creature was still tut-tutting in disapproval. She couldn't expect him to willingly cooperate or like the experience, could she? Just the smell of the place – above the tang of so many mixed creatures – was a disgusting, artificial stench. This had to be the place Mycroft had warned him against.
And still, as anxious as Sherlock was to get back to his nice terrarium, warmed to perfection, he was loathe to leave. It didn't matter to him that the furniture here seemed composed entirely of freezing metal, or that there was not nearly enough light – artificial or natural – to counteract that. The snake simply refused to abandon an unconscious John to whatever fate these suspicious people had in store for him.
If he ever got back to his terrarium, he would have to disabuse Molly of her naïve trust in their food provider. True, the fat biped had mostly stood aside, gaping and cooing. He hadn't made any move to protect them, though, and that was enough to make him at least a willing accomplice in Sherlock's book.
When the white-coated biped from hell tried to put the snake back inside the box he'd arrived in, the garter used all his tricks, and without a stick holding him down anymore, he finally managed to slip away from her hands.
Victory! For the first time, he was free. He could have – really, should have – hid. Run away. Anything. Instead, the only aim his stupid brain zeroed in was reaching John. While people yelled, and got more in each other's than the snake's way, Sherlock slithered – lightning quick – across the room and up a table. He took advantage of the cage – really one, with simply a few metal bars rather than a solid lid – to enter it and curl up around John's unresponsive form, possessive and protective at the same time. His friend was really alive, thankfully.
A booming sound echoed then. What were the bipeds up to? They were only looking on, though, not attacking. Not even moving anymore. So, they understood that they had no chance against him. Good.
Eventually, John came to. At his friend's anxious questions, he hurried to reassure, "I'm fine, Sherlock. I'm not hurt, I swear. Yeah, I don't have the easiest time moving – not sure what she did, or why – but it actually hurts less than what I'd got used to. Maybe they were looking out for us?"
"It can't be. What they did to you…and to me!" Sherlock protested, outraged, suppressing the urge to whip his tail because he didn't want to uncurl just yet.
"Did they hurt you? Can you move? Oh no! I'm so sorry, I didn't ask…" the toad panicked.
"I'm unhurt, John relax…but my dignity will never be recovered," the garter snake claimed, very reluctantly uncurling from his friend (he never said the right thing, did he?) to demonstrate that yes, he could move.
The amphibian's eyes shone with mirth. "Drama queen!" he teased.
The snake raised his body suddenly, shocked, clearly conveying, 'Who, me?' even without a word.
"You made me worry!" the toafd chided, but his tone was fond.
"I'm… sorry," the garter snake replied, subdued. It had been a mutual feeling, but John had passed out… he couldn't help terrifying Sherlock.
It seemed that only now John finally looked around his new house. "Sherlock! Sherlock! I think you can fit!" he yelled excitedly.
"Fit where?" the reptile queried, momentarily confused by the sudden change od subject.
"Between the bars," the toad replied.
'Obviously' went unsaid but not unheard. It was annoying. The snake wondered if he was he this annoying usually. Certainly not. "Of course I do. How do you think I got inside?" he hissed.
"Then why are you still here? You can go anywhere, Sherlock! You're finally free like you wanted!" John pointed out, rather astonished.
"Well, I couldn't just go and leave you alone and unconscious, could I? It simply wasn't safe!" Just because they're not around now, it doesn't mean that they couldn't come suddenly back and do who knows what to you. How could I help if I went gallivanting?" the garter snake bit back, curling again around John out of sheer instinct.
"That is really kind. But Sherlock, I'm awake now, and if anything happens I'll call for you. You can finally explore! Maybe that's why our caretaker brought you too. he knew you wanted a chance to get around a bit," the toad said. Way too cheerfully, in the other's opinion.
"I honestly doubt that," the snake snorted. "Are you sure that you will be fine if I explore?" Truth was, he was eager to, but no mental stimulation was worth his friend getting hurt.
"I will be seriously offended if you don't. I've not been coddled when I was a tadpole, I'm not going to start now!" the toad croaked. If he could have moved easily, he would have gone to a corner and turned his back to the snake, after shaking him off, just to make a point.
"I'll be back soon," Sherlock promised, before leaving the cage. Frankly, he was surprised that the bipeds had made no attempt to seal the cage better once it was obvious he could pass through. Probably they decided that if he'd gone to all that trouble to enter it, he wouldn't be willing to leave. Idiots.
He slithered quietly out. A first look around the room revealed it was horribly dull – there were more cages, but they were empty. When Sherlock figured out how to open some drawers, which looked promising to his inquisitive mind, he only found sealed instruments of some sort, all of them looking wicked. He couldn't deduce or – truly – imagine the use of half of them. What he saw was enough to know that he didn't want to ever become acquainted with them. The sealing was the only sensible idea. If they hadn't been, he would have cut himself accidentally.
Once he'd examined everything to his heart's content, the garter snake reported back to John. "If ever there was any doubt that the bipeds are not to be trusted, this room is overflowing with all the evidence you might want. We're in the hands of evil creatures." The reptile shuddered.
"Relax, Sherlock," the toad prompted, "Nothing irreparable happened.
"Yet," Sherlock bit back, curling back around his friend. Nobody was there to see, after all. "They could easily chop us into pieces, if they were so inclined."
"Why would they want to?" John inquired. The diminished pain was making him incline to think the best of his own kidnapper. If they really wanted to turn him into food, why would they bother making him comfortable?
"Do they ever make sense?" the reptile huffed. Honestly, all his interactions with the big oafs had been annoying at best and humiliating at worst. Besides, the fat one's insistence on bringing him food, when he'd made it as clear as possible that he had no interest in it, signalled an inability to understand that made the snake wonder how they managed to catch food to share in the first place.
True, the ones who captured him weren't this stupid, he supposed. But why would they share their prey, and keep alive useless members of their own species? Not even pack animals did that. Not to the garter snake's knowledge, at least – and he always prided himself on being smart. A mad breed, truly.
"Let's just enjoy while they're helpful, then," John suggested, looking utterly relaxed, "we'll face any danger when it comes. If I do get better, I'll be able to help you out more, too."
How had the amphibian even survived with that attitude? The world needed analysing. Planning. And then more planning, to account for random variables. The helplessness of his new condition had made Sherlock bonkers exactly because his previous way of life had no point anymore. Nothing new, hateful routine…
Actually, his new friend's proposal might be the most sensible approach in this place. Why was the toad right? The snake wasn't used to being wrong. "If you say so," he was forced to agree, sulkily. At least they were alone. Mycroft would never let him live that down, if he'd witnessed it.
The garter snake was tempted to settle for a nap - after all, what was there to do in this place? – when the toad asked, "Hey! Do you think you can manage to leave the room?"
The snake examined it quickly, and admitted, "I suppose so. Probably."
"Well, why don't you? When they come back, I reckon they'd object," the amphibian prompted eagerly.
"If I leave and get too far, I might not be able to hear your call for help!" the reptile protested vehemently. Really, it was obvious.
"If they do come back, I have a feeling that they'll be more concerned with your sudden disappearance than with whatever plans they might have for me," John pointed out reasonably. "Besides, if they do go mad, we'll need a way to escape. Go out there and find one, Sherlock!"
Damn. He was right again. Why was John always right?
