Chapter 4: A name and dusty case files

Mycroft arrived the next morning, not too early hoping his brother would sleep for a while. He had been worried the whole day yesterday until Mrs. Hudson had called and freed him out of his misery.

He knocked on the front door to Baker Street 221 and Ms. Hudson opened. "I think he is still sleeping; haven't hear a sound till now." He thanked her again and went upstairs hesitating a second at the door before entering. Sherlock was indeed still sleeping and looked like a lost child with a very hairy dark ball of fur in his arms.

The noise must have wakened Sherlock because he started to move under the blanket and opened his eyes. Mycroft saw his confusion like when he had woken up the morning before. "Good morning, brother." Sherlock set up and the dog jumped down. He ignored his brother like always but his eyes followed the dog's every move. "Where did you find that dog and why did you bring it with you?" Sherlock still wrapped up in the blanket couldn't look him in the eyes. "Didn't bring it, he followed me from… He followed me." Mycroft didn't comment the break in Sherlock's explanation. "Will you keep him?" He hoped for a yes.

Sherlock looked up, surprised. "Ask him." Mycroft eyed first his brother and then looked down to the dog that came closer to him. Mycroft held a hand out so the dog could get used to him. It sniffed at his hand but as Mycroft tried to touch it he run back to Sherlock and hopped onto the sofa. The dog was small and he nearly didn't make it.

The dog lay down on Sherlock's lap watching his surroundings. "You can leave now. You checked on me. I guess you have better things to do." Mycroft left without another word. Sherlock needed time, more time and maybe someday he would be able to live again. But there was nothing Mycroft could do in this situation and the last thing he wanted to do was to upset him even more.

Sherlock listened to his brother's steps on the stairs and laid down again staring at the two chairs across from the room next to the fireplace until Mrs. Hudson came up to bring him breakfast. Just toast with butter and tea and a bowl of milk for the dog.

She looked down at him, placed the food in front of both and waited. "You don't have to eat everything but at least try a bit." She put the milk on the floor. "And you have to get proper food for you little friend." The dog jumped down from the sofa and sat in front of the milk and waited too. Like Sherlock he sat there and looked at the food.

He had to try it. To make her happy, just a bite. He lifted one of the slices and took a small bite; at the same time the dog started to eat. "Oh, gorgeous. He waited until you started to eat. Good dog." She rubbed his back. "You need to give him a name." Sherlock nodded too busy keeping the small piece of bread inside while taking another. He only wanted to hide under the blanket, sleep and never again leave this room.

Mrs. Hudson babbled something about Mrs. Turner next door and that she would come back at lunch time. Reminding Sherlock this would not be the last time he had to eat.

Eating maybe half of a slice he drank the tea. On the way back to his staring at the chairs the dog started to scratch at the door. Mrs. Hudson had left and he knew she would get angry about any scratches on her door. Sherlock got up and opened the door. "You want to leave?" The dog stayed and waited not moving. "Alright I'll get dressed and we can go for a walk. You can't do your business in here."

Sherlock disappeared into his bedroom and came out fully dressed even with his coat and scarf. Mrs. Hudson must have dried it during the night.

The first step out was hard. Sherlock thought about all the times he hadn't gone out of this door alone. A friendly barking from the pavement let him take one step after another. He didn't know why but he followed the dog to a park close to Baker Street and ended in front of a pet shop with a sign on the door that said 'pets have to stay out'.

Sherlock stopped; looking down the street first to his left and then to his right. He lifted the dog up and hid it under his coat in a pocket. The dog didn't fight him. "You have to be quiet if you want food." And then Sherlock stepped inside the shop and took a basket. He never went shopping and now he was in a shop with a dozen different brands of dog food and he had no idea how to choose the right one. No one was in sight so he let the dog have a look.

If Sherlock had been in his right mind he would have known the whole action was just stupid or insane but he wasn't and asking a dog what kind of food he liked was the best idea his with grief-clouded mind could come up with.

No one was in sight so he let the dog have a look. Sherlock opened his coat and showed the dog the different tins and every time the dog made a movement he put the tin in the basket. As he passed by a shelf with collars he chose a blue one. Not sure why. Outside he took a deep breath not even realizing he had held it. The dog was out of his coat again and lead the way back home as if he had walked that path a thousand times before.

The next morning Lestrade got a message from Mycroft informing him Sherlock was back at Baker Street. He was glad to hear it. To see his friend in that lifeless state had been horrible. But what next? He wouldn't ask Sherlock to help him anytime soon. Not only had the detective's physical condition worried him. He would wait until Sherlock asked for it.

The case files on his desk had already piled up, not close to anything he had had before his time with Sherlock. He had never had so many unsolved crimes. It wasn't only Sherlock's help missing. He himself wasn't at his best and since John's death he hadn't been able to feel the same thrill and motivation as before.

Thinking back to Sherlock, he would probably get bored very soon, so despite the fact that he was busy Lestrade went downstairs to the storage room for case files on unsolved crimes. He looked for a few less brutal ones to bring to Sherlock the next day.

Loaded with over forty files he went upstairs to number 221B. It was around ten in the morning but he found Sherlock still sleeping on the sofa. The man that never slept, was sleeping. Not a good sign.

Still holding the files he reached out with one hand to wake Sherlock. He never got the chance to touch him. Suddenly a black thing jumped at him, it came out of the mix of blankets, limbs and clothes. The thing bit him in his hand. Taken by surprise he fell down on his backside, the case files sliding over the whole living room floor. Not really feeling pain he looked down at his hand and found a small puppy tying to bite off his hand.

Sherlock woke up at the noise but just stared at them. "Do something about that Sherlock." Lestrade shouted. "He is okay." Was all that Sherlock said and the dog let go and walked back to his owner proudly holding his head up and sitting protectively next to him.

"Where did you find that small guardian of yours?" Lestrade asked still sitting on the floor. "He is not my guardian." Sherlock replied emotionlessly. Lestrade looked surprised. "He certainly behaves like that. Anyway… I brought you a few cold cases if you want-." Lestrade was interrupted by Sherlock. "Don't want them, take them away." Sherlock nearly shouted pulling his knees to his chest and holding them with his arms, building a sort of wall between the files, Lestrade and himself.

Only a bit shocked Lestrade went down on his knees to pick up the files. That was one of the possible reactions he had reckoned with, not the worst but still to be expected. Cases meant 'working with John'. "Sorry, thought you would get bored." Sharp teeth nearly bit at his fingers that were reaching out for the files. "Hm, Sherlock. I think your small friend has a problem with me." He tried to reach for another file but the dog jumped at his hand. Sherlock turned to him. "Let him take them away." A short command but for the first time the dog didn't listen to Sherlock. After a few more tries to collect the files, Sherlock said. "Leave them on the floor."

Lestrade tried to start a conversation but Sherlock wasn't in the mood to talk or look at him. As he left, he asked Mrs. Hudson not to pick up the files. He had a feeling that Sherlock would look at them, sometime later. Maybe much later but no one would miss the files until then.

Sherlock came back from his walk with the dog. He though he had made it too easy for that small thing, letting him take all the decisions; but then why shouldn't he? Not that Sherlock would feel up to taking any.

When he walked through the door Mrs. Hudson invited him into her kitchen for dinner. He wasn't hungry but there was no way out of the situation. He ended with a soup on the table and slowly started to eat. Typical for Mrs. Hudson she had already a bit of dog food in her storage and both humans watched as the dog first started to eat when Sherlock had eaten his fist spoon full of soup.

One afternoon, Sherlock was on the sofa when the dog started to play with the DVDs under the TV, John's DVDs. Sherlock had to get up to stop him. Sitting on the floor and sorting the mess he noticed the dog still holding one of the DVDs; it was the last movie he and John had watched. Okay it was more like John had watched and Sherlock made comments about it while running an experiment in the kitchen. It was a movie about pirates, Sherlock couldn't remember how it had ended; he must have deleted it. John had found out about his pirate phase as child and let him watch it. The pirates name was Jack he thought remembering.

The still unnamed dog sat there wiggling his tail. He had grown quite a bit in the last few days and Mycroft had told him he would become a very big dog. The black fur reminded him a bit about the pirate's hair. "How about Jack, as a name for you?" A happy bark came back, the DVD fell to the floor and Jack jumped onto Sherlock's lap. Sherlock interpreted this as a 'yes' and finished tidying up.

Over a month had passed since he had come back to Baker Street and nearly nothing had changed. He only ate the food Mrs. Hudson gave him, only got up and outside when Jack wanted to. Otherwise he did nothing more than lie on the sofa.

One of those lazy days Jack, who had already grown double his initial size, laid one of the case files on the table. Sherlock looked at it and turned in the opposite direction. "Won't do this." And after an encouraging bark Sherlock got up, took his coat and out of the door he was. This time Jack followed Sherlock. After a while he let him walk beside him.

Thanks to their many walks Sherlock's muscles were better and nearly back to his old form. He was still thin but no longer dead looking, all because of Mrs. Hudson's daily mission to feed him up. And then they were standing at the gate to the graveyard. It hadn't been Sherlock's intention to come back to this place.

A sign on the gate told him that dogs weren't allowed inside. Sherlock walked the first few steps inside and turned around. This was the first time he and Jack would be separated by more than a few meters. He hesitated, went back and laid a hand on his companion. "Will you still be hear when I'm back?" He didn't wait for an answer. He wished he had a leash to bind Jack to that gate but that didn't feel right.

This was his second visit to this grave. He didn't feel any better than the first time. Sherlock sat down and leaned against the headstone looking up into a cloudy sky.

"I have someone who is living with me now. He found me; I called him Jack after the pirate from that stupid movie you let me watch. Sometimes he is very intelligent, for a dog. Yes you heard right. A dog. And Mrs. Hudson lets me keep him. I guess she did it out of pity but that's not really important. I think she likes him too. He always stays by my side and I'm sure he will be a very good protector once he grows big enough to actually be a threat. I'm so used to him being close that the few meters that separate us right now feel like infinity. I'm afraid of finding him gone when I go back to the gate. I got angry at him for no reason. He just gave me one of the case files Lestrade brought to me. But I don't want to do it without you, not alone." Sherlock stared into the sky and a few tears started falling down, he waited in silence.

The sky became darker and darker. With no answers coming from the stone there was not much left to talk and staying here wasn't and option either. But going back would mean being alone. If he thought about it though, he wasn't really that alone. Many people were trying their best to make him feel better, to give him a sense of home and love and all the other things he had lost with John. And Jack, he was always at his side, when they slept, Jack would lie near his chest and Sherlock could feel the tags being pressed against him with every breath he took, feeling the warm metal near his heart. This was probably the reason he had not had a single nightmare.

"Excuse me, Sir." Sherlock nearly jumped up, surprised by the appearance of the graveyard's security guard. He had lost time again. Collecting himself Sherlock answered. "Yes?" The guard held his torch to the ground so as not to shine it into Sherlock's eyes. "I'm sorry but you have to leave for today; I have to lock the gates." Sherlock got up and walked down the hill. "Is the black dog at the south gate yours?" Surprised Sherlock turned around. Jack was still there? He nodded. "I think someone stole your leash." Sherlock was already half way there and didn't get what the guard said.

Jack was still at the gate, same position, he hadn't moved at all. Sherlock smiled. "Let's go home, maybe we can have a look at the case you chose."