From Galaxy1001D:
Dec 14: Write a story where Holmes offends Watson and spends the rest of the story trying to get back into his good graces.
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare apologize!" Watson snapped at Holmes as he stroked the body of the bulldog which had been a young pup when he had moved in with Holmes back in 1881.
He'd fished it out of the trash. The trash!
Fifteen years of companionship, and Sherlock had thrown Gladstone's aged body away as if it were garbage when he had come downstairs and discovered that the dog had stopped breathing for the final time sometime during the night while they had slept. After fifteen years of loyalty, the only eulogy that the poor dog who had survived experiments, intruders, and Mary's young cousins had received was "Watson, you might want to go out and get another dog, the old one died."
He knew that Holmes could often be insensitive, emotion was to him as grit was to a fine scientific instrument. The man who had seen how people often cared for their pets as if they were actual members of their own families should've realized that he held Gladstone in similar regard had risen to new heights that day however. The least he could've done in the situation was display at least a modicum of tact.
After realizing that he'd made a rather egregious error, Holmes had attempted to make up for what he had done, even going so far as to act as lookout when he had surreptitiously buried Gladstone under a tree in his favorite park. He was having none of it however. Gladstone had deserved better than Holmes had done to him upon discovering his passing, even if it was what Holmes' father had had done to his few childhood pets following their passing.
At the end of the week following Gladstone's demise, following a constant litany of apologies, Holmes offered up one final insult. Coming home following a rather easy case which may well have been a fiction to explain his absence, Holmes pulled a small dog with markings similar to those of Gladstone out of his pocket. Turning away from the animal that he refused to even consider as a replacement for Gladstone, Watson walked back to his room and slammed the door.
"What did I do this time?" Holmes asked no-one in particular as he held the juvenile bulldog which he had procured at considerable expense to himself.
"If you don't know, I won't tell you." Mrs. Hudson said coldly before smiling fondly at the small dog and feeding it a scrap of meat from dinner.