Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! Also, I apologize to Moonshine! I didn't mean to steal the name Charise, I wasn't thinking of your story at all! I guess the name just got stuck in my head, and it popped out of my fingers. Many apologies, and I'll put in a plug for you: BE SURE TO READ "DARKER DAYS" BY MOONSHINE! hehehe...






I was becoming notorious for missing the bus, and Holmes and I walked home together, shuffling our feet through and inch of snow.

"Did you see the look on Ms. Rogers' face when Stephen set the lab table on fire?" I asked, chuckling.

Holmes laughed. "No, I didn't. I was too busy leaping away."

I wrapped my arms around my stomach, almost bent over with mirth. "Sh-she looked like she was about to pop a coronary. And then she starts yelling - get out of the way! Get out of the way! Like we weren't all already."

"Yes!" Holmes said. "You know, when a bottle says, "do not shake" you'd think Stephen would have the sense not to -"

"What was that?" I asked. From the alleyway, something had whimpered. We stopped, listening closely. "There it is again!" I said, and hurried down the alley.

The whimpering was coming from underneath an old cardboard box. Holmes came up behind me as I was lifting it away.

"Ooooh," I moaned, my heart breaking. It was a tiny little puppy! It was white with brown ears and a big brown spot over its eye. The puppy looked up at me and whined again, but thumped its tail against the snow.

I pulled the puppy into my arms and cradled it against me.

"It's not wearing a tag," I said to Holmes. "And it's so cold." I cuddled it closer. "Poor baby," I crooned.

Holmes reached out a stiff hand to stroke the puppy. "You're right," he said. "Listen, why don't we take him to my house?"

"Why not my house?"

"My house is closer." We walked out of the alleyway together.

"By four houses!" I protested.

"Okay, okay, if we keep the puppy it'll stay at both our houses. But my house IS closer."

"Oh, all right," I muttered.

Holmes opened the door to his house and let me in. I stood on the welcome mat, trying to kick the snow from my shoes.

"Mom!" Holmes called, "Mom, come here!"

Mrs. Holmes thundered down the stairs, kissed Holmes on the cheek, and said hello to me. Then she noticed the puppy.

"Oh, you guys," she laughed. "What are we going to do with a puppy? We have no where to keep it, it's not housebroken, where are you going to..." she stopped. Holmes, the puppy, and I all stared at her.

"Oh, no you don't," Mrs. Holmes tipped her head to the side and smiled, softly. "Three sets of puppy eyes! Oh, I can't take it. Take it to the basement and give it a bath." She sighed with the determination of someone who just signed her death warrant.

Holmes hugged his mother and then ushered me to the basement. He dragged a huge tub out unto the middle of the floor and I set the puppy inside. As Holmes made multiple trips from the basement sink to the tub, carting buckets of warm water, I shed my backpack and jacket. The puppy howled, then sneezed as Holmes poured water on top of it.

Holmes went upstairs and returned with a bottle of shampoo. "But this is people shampoo!" I protested, rolling up my sleeves.

"Sorry," Holmes shrugged. "We didn't have any puppy shampoo." I grinned and opened the bottle. This is what Holmes uses... I realized, smelling it for the first time. I glanced over at him as Holmes rolled up his own sleeves, smiling at the puppy. His brown hair fell in slashes against his face and... what was that? I thought I saw a gold chain around his neck. That's odd, I hadn't noticed it before. But whatever.

The two of us hunkered down around the puppy. Holmes held him, and yes the puppy was a "him", down in the tub. I squirted some shampoo into my hands and rubbed the little guy vigorously. The dirt and matted tangles slowly came away. The puppy howled and Holmes laughed.

"He says you're not very good at this." Holmes teased. I reached out and put soapsuds on his nose. He splashed water at me, and the puppy made its escape. Flying from the tub, yapping and spraying water everywhere, he ran around the basement.

"Come back!" we both yelled, and chased him into a corner.

"Gotcha!" I said, grabbing the pup around the middle. "C'mere, you little rascal."

"Hey," Holmes said, helping get the squirming puppy back into the tub. "I like that. Rascal."

"Hmm..." I said, scrubbing the new dirt out of our dog, "It's a cute name. I hereby dub thee - " I tapped the puppy on the head. "Rascal of Baker Street."

The newly named Rascal howled, and we chuckled.