17. From Book girl fan: Runaways.
"I say!"
"Not so loudly, Doctor Watson," Dawson said reproachfully. "The youngest has only just dropped off to sleep."
I gazed down at the fluffy pile of goslings nesting in Holmes' second Persian slipper. No doubt my friend would not be pleased. In deference to Dawson, however, sat down on the floor to continue the conversation. "But why are there geese in our apartment?" I cast around for a possible excuse. "Is this for one of Basil's cases?"
It was sometimes difficult to read emotions on such a tiny face, but I thought Dawson looked sheepish. "Eh…Basil doesn't know. He's on an errand for his brother today and won't return until late. But Basil's a good fellow at heart. I'm sure he'll understand."
This did not sound promising; Basil, like Holmes, did not take well to surprises. "But you have not yet explained what they are doing here," I pointed out.
Dawson clenched his little fists; his kind, round face darkened with unusual anger. "They ran away," he said. "From a horrible place that was raising them to be next year's Christmas dinner!"
I felt a flush of guilt. I was fond of Christmas goose myself.
"…Doctor Watson?" Dawson said hesitantly after a moment or two. "Do…do you think they might stay here for a day or two while I find another situation? I promise I'll take care of them; you'd hardly notice they are here!"
I had heavy doubts upon that score, but the hope in my little friend's face was impossible to refuse. "I suppose…but you must keep them away from Holmes' chemicals. And they cannot remain longer than a day or two."
Dawson's heartfelt thanks did much to reassure me I had made the right choice, though I privately decided to move my own possessions into my room and advise Holmes to do the same.
Perhaps Mrs. Hudson wouldn't notice?
A/N: This story has undergone a huge number of permutations; as always, my Muse eventually settled on the strangest one. Baker Street is quite the menagerie this year!