December 3: "Gladstone meets Toby" (from I'm Nova)

Watson

It had been a long day of tending to patients at my practice, and so sitting in my chair at home, next to my wife and next to the fire, came as a wonderful relief. Gladstone, the small puppy Holmes had given to Mary and myself for our one-year anniversary just two weeks before, was exploring the sitting room. He was an energetic and excitable little dog, but relatively well behaved.

At half past ten o'clock, there came a loud knock at the door. The staff was in bed, so I answered the door, to find a dripping-wet Sherlock Holmes standing outside the door.

"I have a favor to ask," said my old friend. I now noticed he was accompanied by Toby, the dog with the incredible sense of smell, who had more than once proved vital in our investigations.

"Whatever have you been doing?" I asked incredulously, eyeing with mixed curiosity and exasperation the puddle he was making on my front step.

"I promise I shall explain all of that later, on the condition that you keep Toby here for the night. He has done what I need him to do, and I will not be in a position to take care of him until I return—which should not be too terribly long. The game is afoot, Watson!"

My mind was such a whirl of questions that hardly before I noticed what was happening, Holmes had pressed Toby's leash into his hand, flashed me a quick, excited grin, and vanished into the chilly winter night.

Mary cast a curious glance at both Toby and myself when I reentered the sitting room.

"What is Mr. Holmes doing out so late?" Mary asked.

I shook my head. "I wish I knew. And I wish I knew what the deuce he has done that's caused him to be dripping wet!" I sat heavily down in my chair.

"Dripping wet," Mary echoed. "Well, I suppose he has done stranger things."

I gave a snort, thinking, Oh, Mary, you have no idea. My thoughts were momentarily full of bullet holes in the walls, criminal relics in the butter dish, and malodorous chemical experiments, but they soon turned a darker direction. "I hope he isn't in any danger."

"I am sure if there was any danger, he would have taken you with him," said Mary comfortingly. "Gladstone! Leave him alone!"

I followed her gaze, to see that Toby had flopped on the carpet next to the fire, and Gladstone was now pawing at him, apparently wanting Toby to get up and play. Gladstone ignored my wife's remonstrance, and continued to cheerfully paw at Toby's ears.

"Poor Toby must be exhausted," I said, snatching up little Gladstone bringing him back to my chair, petting him. "I wonder how much of London they traversed in search of Holmes's quarry."

"Likely much of it," said Mary. "Even if he began at nightfall, he must have been out for at least four or five hours."

I nodded, attempting to keep Gladstone from going after Toby again. Unfortunately, the puppy wriggled loose and bounded up to Toby's legs, giving one a playful nibble.

"Gladstone!" I exclaimed, once more yanking the energetic little dog away. Gladstone gave a little yip of protest.

Toby slowly dragged himself to his feet, and wandered into the corner of the room, giving me an accusatory look the entire way.

"It's hardly my fault, Holmes is the one who left you here," I told Toby, but he continued to mope, eyes fixed on me.

"I think it's time I get some sleep. And you as well," said Mary.

I hesitated for a moment, indecisive.

"Or you can wait up for Holmes to return," said Mary with a smile. "It is up to you, of course. But try not to fall asleep in the chair again—you know what horrible neck pains you have when that happens."

"Yes, of course, Mary," I replied, yawning. "Good night."

"Good night," she replied, and headed to bed.

I held Gladstone in my lap for a while to keep him from going after poor Toby again, and the little puppy soon fell asleep. I carefully set him down near the warmth of the fire. Toby meandered back to his place by the fire and fell asleep soon after that.

I whiled away the time reading and ignoring my eyelids as they grew steadily heavier. It was when I found myself reading the same sentence over and over again, without ever being able to divine any meaning from it that I decided that perhaps I ought to give up my vigil and retire to bed. A glance at the clock told me that it was nearly three in the morning. Perhaps I can go another quarter hour, I thought.

The next thing I knew, I was awakening to the sound of a knock at the door. I cast a drowsy glance at the clock: half past four. There was another bout of knocking, more urgent this time. Holmes! I thought, suddenly remembering the events of much earlier in the evening. I rushed to the door and opened it.

It was indeed Sherlock Holmes who stood on my doorstop, no longer dripping wet but now smelling strongly of fish.

"Come in, come in," I said, my voice thick from sleeping even that short amount of time.

"You really must not fall asleep in your chair like that," Holmes said as we walked to the sitting room.

I was baffled for a moment, but then realized I was still mostly dressed, and had been massaging the back of my neck. "You really should not spend so much time in the company of fish," I replied, sitting back down in my chair and gesturing to my friend to sit in another.

"Ah," said Holmes. "I apologize for the smell. I rather forgot about it, to be perfectly honest. Now, how is Toby getting along?"

"Tired, but he seemed all right," I said, glancing toward where Toby lay near the fireplace. I noticed that now Gladstone had wriggled up next to the older dog, and both were sleeping soundly.

Holmes followed my gaze, and smiled. "He seems to have found himself a little friend in Gladstone."

I smiled as well. "I believe so."

A/N: It's likely that the reason Holmes was out all night and now smells like fish is worthy of a whole story of its own. So perhaps I will finish it another day. :)

Also - special thanks to my friend Lily for helping me keep the dogs in character!