Blessings upon the souls (or lack of souls, everyone's welcome here) of all my readers.

Time to thank my lovelies. That-One-Yellow-Smiley, TruffleHead, digi-smile, Miyako Toudaiji, and egyptian1995. May your treasure chambers overflow with wealth.


Dead Air

7.

Nowadays, when John comes home, he can never be quite sure what he's going to find. He doesn't know what Asher does when he isn't home during the day, but she always seems to make it back in time to have something strange waiting for him. Once, he had walked in the door only to find her painting scenes from the Iliad and the Odyssey on the walls.

"This was the very first book I ever read as a child." she'd informed him happily as he stood there, shell shocked. The next day he'd called in sick, and they'd spent all afternoon repainting the walls (which needed repainting anyways, if John is being honest with himself). Asher hadn't seemed to mind her artwork being ruined, and the very next day John had come home from work to find Asher sitting in the middle of the kitchen table with her thin legs crossed, surrounded by candles.

"What sort of satanic ritual is this?" he'd asked, half amused.

"No sort of ritual at all." Asher had replied. "I'm merely looking into something." and after a few more moments she had leapt off the table and dashed away to type furiously on her phone.

Things are certainly more exciting around the flat now than John has been used too. Sometimes he can even convince himself that he might one day forget, that he can be oblivious to the fact that it's been almost four months now since the world stopped turning.

So when John comes home from the grocery story one saturday morning to find Asher sitting on the sofa next to a golden ball of fluff, he simply shakes his head and sits down in the armchair opposite.

"Why is there an animal on the sofa?" he says blandly.

"It isn't an 'animal', it's a puppy." Asher replies absently, nose shoved into a book as usual. John compresses his lips into a thin line.

"I understand that it's a puppy. What is it doing in the flat?"

"He's yours." Asher answers, looking up and smiling brightly. "Mycroft bought him for us."

"Since when does Mycroft buy puppies for people?" John wonders, and Asher's smile turns wicked. John hurries to cut her off before she can say whatever she is about to say.

"Never mind, don't answer that. The point is, we can't keep it."

"Him." Asher corrects, picking up the puppy and cuddling it close, "And of course we can keep him. He'll be good for you."

John opens his mouth to protest, but Asher has crossed the room and dumped the small bundle in his lap.

"Asher! Asher, no- I'm- we're not keeping-" but Asher has left the room. John looks down at the small warm creature in his lap, pink tongue lolling out, large brown eyes drooping in exhaustion. The puppy cuddles closer to John, and closes its eyes in contentment. Something in John's heart defrosts slowly, and he places a hand hesitantly on the animal's head.

"Gladstone." he says when Asher comes strolling back into the flat a few hours later.

"Hm?" Asher says distractedly, heading for the kitchen.

"The puppy. His name is Gladstone."

Asher blinks for a second or two, then a smirk tugs up one corner of her narrow mouth.

"I knew he'd be good for you." she says smugly, coming over to remove the sleeping dog from John's lap.

...

Mycroft bought your boyfriend a puppy today. -A

Does this mean I shall be having a dirty animal to look forward to once I return? -SH

Does this mean you're going to be returning soon? -A

Asher. -SH


I'd imagine that living with Asher is very difficult. She's like that one roommate we all hate.