A/N: Here's the long-awaited (mostly by me) chapter 10! It's a bit longer than average, but that's been the trend with me lately. Enjoy, and review please! Even one sentence will do! And remember - I own... nada. Nothing. Zilch. Zero. *cries*
With the tinkle of welcome bells, Sherl-otter and John-hog tentatively entered the pet shop known affectionately by locals as 'Whiskers and Tails'. They jumped in reaction to the unexpected sound. Exchanging resolute glances, they tiptoed (in Sherlock's case) and scurried (in John's case) towards the front counter, rehearsing the plan in their minds. Amanda would play the concerned, then flighty, good citizen who had found the unusual animals 'roaming the city', and kindly brought them to the shop. Sherlock and John were to act normal (a point unnecessarily stressed by John, in Sherlock's opinion), while displaying an obvious attachment to each other so that they might be put in cages adjacent to each other, enabling the occasional whispered word between them during the night. Then, just as the wide-eyed welcome lady's eyes popped, seeing the animals' approach ─ what was she called? thought John suddenly ─ Amanda stumbled in, but recovered herself, straightening her expensive coat collar and smiling warmly at the shell-shocked... receptionist? John decided to think of the poor woman as that kind of employee.
"Evening," Amanda said. In the momentary opportunity, John glanced over at his best friend and was appalled.
"Sherlock!" he snapped, trying to keep his lips from moving visibly. "Cut it out!"
Sherlock had been standing on his hind paws, and folding his arms in a particularly human-like way. He reluctantly straightened, dropping all four carefully manicured webbed paws to the floor.
"Satisfied, John? You're the one who's talking!"
"Ssh. She'll hear you!"
The receptionist, starting to realize that she was actually hearing other voices, cocked her head to listen. Amanda smoothly continued, sneaking a glare in Sherlock's direction a moment later. He muttered something that sounded very much like 'humbug'.
"So what I was wondering is - I know this is very sudden..."
"John!" whispered Sherlock, pouting as well as he could, being an otter.
"What now?" answered John, thinking of daisies and sunshine to avoid wanting to strangle Sherlock. It was a strategy recommended to him by Ella, his old therapist, when thoughts of the war threatened to overwhelm him. While being ludicrous and totally unsuccessful, at least the recommendation made him laugh. Then John remembered he was allergic to daisies. "Honestly, I really don't care what street the receptionist lady lives on, just want Amanda to get us a place for the night. This is our best shot, Sherlock! Now stop whining and start acting your age!"
"John, don't be ridiculous. In otter years, I'm four. Therefore, I have a perfectly viable excuse for any behavior you might find inexcusable. ...Do your research."
"That expression's getting really old, Sherlock..."
"Do your research. Do your research," Sherlock repeated, leaning in towards John, trying to irritate him.
"Oh, shush. But the lady's going to get suspicious if you keep dusting off your fur and glaring at her! Can't you just cut it out, for once in your life?!" John insisted. "This is the last time I'm going to ask you."
"I sincerely doubt that," muttered the otter under his breath.
"...So, you see, it would be wonderful if you could make room for these two. You can, can't you?" said Amanda sweetly. John saw her visibly turn on the charm for the receptionist.
"Er... I'm really sorry, but-" said the receptionist, trying to get a word in. Why do I even try, she thought. It's hopeless. What was it with single women and homeless animals?
"Great! I'll just leave them with you, then!" Amanda interrupted. She gently shoved the animals forward, one hand behind each of them, trying to turn and leave while still appearing responsible. Sherlock squirmed in her hand, making her latch on to him more forcefully, which provoked yet another gyrating fit from the otter. John watched in amusement as Sherlock tried to escape Amanda's grasp and Amanda chased him around the shop. The other animals (everything from parakeets to iguanas) paid rapt attention. Finally Amanda, trying not to trample the otter, caught ahold of the scruff of Sherlock's neck and held on tight. "Here you are! One feisty otter and one well behaved he─ ...where's John?!" she exclaimed. The receptionist opened her mouth, as if she were about to speak, but thought better of it. Her eyes remained wide with fear and confusion.
"Squeak!" said John not-very-convincingly. "Squeak..."
He was standing (on all four paws) beside an empty hedgehog-sized cage, his face triumphant. As well as tired. The pair had been on their feet for hours on end, and John was just beginning to notice the effects. It had been predictably difficult to keep up with Sherlock, even in otter form, because of his own short legs. The humans? Impossible!
"There he is," announced Amanda. "Now you can take them. Have a lovely evening, madam." And with that she headed for the door, after glancing longingly at the adorable rabbits by the window. She would have to ask Martin for one later.
"Wait... you called the hedgehog 'John'?" inquired the bewildered receptionist, holding out her hand to Amanda - who was long gone. "But ─ wait... fine. But just for one night!" she told the animals. "Then ─ for heaven or high water ─ you're out, understand?!" she cried. Then she shook her head. "Now I'm talking to the animals, just like that batty lady... oh well, better close up shop."
She locked John into the small cage he'd been standing next to, and then forced Sherlock into a larger, adjacent one. After she had locked the door, shut off the lights, and left, John dared to speak to Sherlock through the bars of their cages.
"Whew, we're safe. I wish she'd left a light on, though. Where am I supposed to get food in this place?"
"John, you just had dinner. I would think you would want to lose weight, considering the image you must strive to maintain, as a doctor?"
"What's your problem today?! First it was the acting human, then the struggling with Ma─ Amanda, and now you're insulti─ hey! What did you say about my weight?! My weight is perfectly adequate, mister! It's you who's been eating too many biscuits when you think I'm not looking."
"So sue me. You're the one who always says I need to eat more! Happy, John?"
"I'm going to sleep. I suggest you do as well."
"..."
John's beady eyes sent a steely gaze in what he assumed was Sherlock's direction. "What, are you asleep already?"
The answer reverberated through the darkness eerily.
"No, simply contemplating the viability of my potential escape through these handy bars I bent with my incisors a moment ago," answered Sherlock. "I would let you out too, although I hazard a guess that you might be a liability. Unfortunately, it's a risk I'll have to take."
"You wouldn't last a minute without me, and I'm not going anywhere. Look, I think I know what's eating at you."
"Uh huh. Going to sleep now."
"You're all bothered because you don't like that we had to ask for help from someone! You're so used to being all 'big tall consulting detective' with your hat and your fancy-schmancy collar that you can't stand being at someone's mercy!"
"Oh come on. You're always telling me to eat, and I'm fine with that..."
John snorted. "As if," he squeaked. "Aw, it's all right, Sherlock; I get it. But can you just not take it out on me this time? I'm sorry that this all happened to us. Frankly, it sucks. But we just have to work together!"
"Okay, John."
"Thanks. See you in the morning," John said contentedly, knowing that an 'okay' was the best he could expect to receive. He curled up in his cage, and closed his eyes, rubbing them with his paws. As he began to drift off, he spoke again.
"Sherlock?" he called softly.
But his friend was fast asleep. And John, not minding the silence, soon joined him there.