Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. Sorry that it's so short once again! ^^''' Hope you enjoy it at least. Sorry about the momentary upload mishap! ^^'''
The routine being modified was always something that made them rightfully concerned. When the fat biped popped in and it was decidedly not food or 'maintenance' time, they stared at him, wondering what he was up to. The man put his face way too close to Martha's cage, staring and cooing ridiculously.
Then he scribbled a note, leaving it on the table – under the corner of a scale so it wouldn't accidentally fly away…before opening her cage and scooping Martha up. She made a soft sound of surprise, and scrambled with her limbs, trying to free herself, but there was no chance. He held fast and left, with a smile on his lips.
They'd just disappeared that John inflated in rage and bellowed, "What the fuck, Sherlock! Why didn't you help her!"
The garter snake had slowly, almost stealthily inched back towards his friend, and curled around him again. It wasn't that he didn't mind the toad's rude behaviour, despite the amphibian immediate attempt at reconciliation. But it was hard to stay sulking when this place was so damn cold, and for all that they were both cold-blooded, being close was still better than being alone.
At John's outburst, though, he whipped himself away from his furious cage-mate in an instant. For all that his species was supposed to dine on toads, and his friend was hurt anyway, putting some space between them seemed the wisest option.
Once in the farthest corner of their temporary home, Sherlock replied, "I had to! It's basic strategy." He refused to show the amphibian such a deep fear that he'd leave the cage, or maybe even the room, despite the ferocious glare he was receiving. At the moment, John seemed perfectly able of the feat Sally had claimed, and perhaps even incline to swallow him whole. Still, the snake had his own self-respect, and refused to be entirely cowed.
"Strategy?" the toad echoed, not appeased at all. "What sort of strategy implies abandoning a friend to fate unknown when you can help? I would have tried myself, but you're the only one who's actually motile at the moment – agile, even, and unrestrained – and you didn't think that trying to help Martha was worth it? Sure, the biped might be bigger, but if you caught him by surprise, he might have given her up. And he'd know that she was under your protection!"
"Oh yessss, grand idea, why I didn't think of that myself?" Sherlock hissed, his voice filled with scorn and his body raising in a bid to show he wasn't defeated. "Sssstartle him, so he'd drop her. Maybe even throw her. Would she have landed that well? Do you for some reason think that your friend is a cat? And let's not even start about the fact that knowing I can, and will, leave this cage in order to ruin their plans, instead of just curling around you, is the way to get myself thrown back in an enclosure I cannot free myself from. And my plan for our freedom is not yet ready to be implemented."
"Oh," John breathed, all fight escaped from him, "I…didn't think. That she would be hurt, I mean. You know that's the last thing I want!"
"I know, I know. And of course you didn't think. Nobody ever does. Why would they?" the snake retorted bitterly.
"I'm so sorry. It was awful of me, but I would have been as incensed if you were in danger and someone – anyone – was in a position to help you, or so I thought. You do know that, don't you?" the toad queried softly. "I'm just an idiot…and very grateful that you're not."
"I do believe that, strangely. And I'm happy that you'll want to get help in case I'm in danger…just try not to have me accidentally murdered in the process," Sherlock quipped, relaxing back himself from his defensive position.
"I'll never live it down, will I?" John asked, too embarrassed to even look at his friend. Not that he didn't deserve that.
"Unlikely," the garter snake admitted honestly, "but I promise not to tease you too often unless you do something else truly idiotic. I'm sure you have some intelligence – just stop hiding it."
In the meantime, Mrs. Hudson had been led to a different room. It had more natural light than the other one, wide glass panels making up most of the walls, and she made a mental note to tell her friends to get themselves here if possible. The sun cheered her up immediately. She hoped that the biped would let her snuggle right against the glass, letting the sun's warmth seep into her old bones.
She even attempted again to free herself, but without result – her weak struggling didn't faze her capturer at all. Of course, he placed her in a cage almost the farthest from the glass – and the tempting outside world just past the door. Just her luck. Or did he suspect that she'd make a run for it if free? Not that 'making a run' had ever been one of her talents, but with her new upgrade, maybe…Besides, it was a moot point. Even if she could, she never would have, today. She needed to inform her friends, in case they didn't know.
There were a number of other animals in here, but none that bothered to acknowledge her at all. How rude! She attempted to talk to the creatures closest to her – a bunch of tiny turtles, who clearly were little more than newborn. They should have realised that a word with someone having so much more experience might be helpful for their future, but no, they told her to shut up! Well, she certainly wasn't going to talk with such people.
So she settled down, looking longingly at the glass, and just observed what was going on. For long stretches of time, absolutely nothing happened. So boring! Then, someone would come in, often with one of their offsprings, look around and – sometimes – leave with one of them. Martha frowned. Where were they going?
Luckily for her, not many people came to the turtles' corner in the first place, and usually they barely bothered to glance at her. The few who did – mostly children – were dragged away by grimacing parents. Only once it seemed like she might have to go – which frankly sounded like a nightmare, because they almost handed her over to a small child whose screeches hurt her ears. But the biped who'd brought her here (and whose place was somewhere else, according to the glares of the one running all around the place) stepped in. There was a sort of argument, and then the child and his parents left in a huff.
If Martha could understand human language, she'd have heard Mike grumble to himself, "A toy! A fucking toy! Well, she's not," steeling himself for the inevitable quarrel to come with Sebastian, their actual clerk. Frankly, Mike never liked him much.