"What'd you think?" John asked arms out stretched like a magician presenting the saw he planned to cut the woman in half with.
"It's a box" Tori replied, looking down at the cardboard rectangle in front of her.
"Astute observation" Sherlock stated in his usual mono tone demeanour. "Maybe looking inside would help further your investigation
She rolled her eyes and bent down to open the top of the box curiously. "Can you tell me what it is?"
"No. You're meant to guess" Sherlock spoke the last word as though it was forced down his throat.
"Umm.." she looked over it again, narrowing her eyes as though she had X-ray vision. "It smells a bit funny? Like something animal"
"Close, very close" John bent down and helped her open the cardboard folds. "Now close your eyes"
She blinked, taken aback by the question. "Nothing's gonna bite me, are they?"
"No, close your eyes"
Sighing, she did as instructed, shutting her lids and reaching inside the cardboard blindly. Her fingers scraped along the side blindly before she felt soft fur under her hands. "Is it hairy?" she raised the left side of her mouth in confusion. "Like a fur coat?"
"It has hairs, but you can't wear it-" John's sentence was cut short by a loud thought from Sherlock.
"You could wear it as an item of clothing in fact, it's not vast enough to be a coat but it may stretch to a stole or a hat. Of course altering it to fabric would be challenging due to your slightly squeamish nature around fresh organs-"
"It licked me!" she cried, her eyes snapping open to look down at the tiny puppy who was trying to nibble at the skin of her hand. It was a very eager fluffy white Scottish terrier, looking up at her with doe full brown eyes. "You got me a dog!" she scooped the animal up into her arms, looking at her two best friends in unrestricted delight .
"Happy birthday!" John laughed, reaching forward to give her a quick hug.
"If you were set on that coat we can sort it out" Sherlock drew a line across his throat morbidly.
"Shut up! You better keep away from my dog" Tori joked dryly, focussing back on the puppy, scratching the hair behind its ear.
"So what are you going to name him?" John asked, petting the white fur affectionately.
"I don't know. I used to always dream of having a dog, a little one like this, 'Ice berg' that's what they were going to be called but I don't think he suits it"
"I was thinking Gladstone was an appropriate name for a pet" Sherlock commented, taking a seat on the sofa lazily.
"I'm not naming my dog after something that sounds like a lord from the 18th century" she snorted, letting the still unnamed animal lick her face. "Um…Snowy?...Spot?...Lucky? No that's way to cheesy, naming your dog after yourself…Oh! I've found it. Jock!"
"Sorry?" John asked as though he'd misheard her.
"Jock. Wee Jock. From that old Scottish T.V show, they had a dog just like this one" she exclaimed, looking between both men's confused faces. "Oh come on! Tell me you've heard of Hamish Macbeth! It was massive in the 90's, I used to watch it all the time when I couldn't sleep" Her two friends were still silent. "Okay, tonight, 6 o'clock, I'll fish out the box set and educate you on Robert Carlyle's way of solving murders"
They watched in a quiet confusion as she led the dog out the flat and down the hall to take 'Wee Jock' out on his first walk.
A.N
Well now I myself am going to watch Hamish Macbeth, it's a brilliant show set in a town I had the privilege to visit once. If you ever have the chance, go watch it, it's not as intellectual as Sherlock and you may need to understand the Scottish accent first but it is truly brilliant.
