Sorry for the wait and the short chapter guys!
I'm running kinda low on ideas for more chapters of this story, so I will now be accepting prompts! I can't guarantee I'll get to everyone's, but I'll do my best. If you have one, either leave it in a comment or PM it to me :)
This story was inspired by ausherlock's Little Companion story collection.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. I own a dog...but her name isn't John Watson, so I suppose I don't own him either.
"You do realize that this may be a futile attempt," Sherlock blandly stated as he stared his dog in the eye.
John's gaze was just as steady, not wavering in the slightest. Both dog and human were seated on the floor near the sofa, stock still. Their breathing being the only movement between them.
And Sherlock's mouth as it spoke words of consideration.
The detective sighed deeply but held the mutt's gaze, "It's difficult to fool someone this way, it might not work."
The dog snorted harshly.
"I am completely serious," Sherlock said in an affronted voice.
"Boys? What on Earth are you doing?" it was astonishing, Sherlock thought, how neither man nor dog moved an inch at the sudden sound of Mrs. Hudson.
She was walking out of their kitchen, having made Sherlock dinner. She raised a curious eyebrow at them, but she continued on her way to her flat when he didn't answer.
Good. They could test the theory out on her. Sherlock smirked to himself. John would understand. He just had to say the command.
Sherlock took a deep breath and shouted loudly, "JOHN, STOP!"
John was a smart dog, he knew the command, and immediately tackled Sherlock to the ground.
Sherlock rolled back and forth, putting his hands in front of his face as John growled and barked. He snapped his teeth inches from Sherlock's skin.
Luckily, the detective knew the actions for what they really were. The growls were high-pitched, and the snaps never came close to drawing blood. Any observant pet owner always knew the difference between aggression and hyper playfulness.
The same did not go for landladies.
Mrs. Hudson's frantic footsteps and startled voice reached past John's barks, "Boys!"
Realizing she was coming, Sherlock tapped John's leg. The dog immediately stopped his play-fight and sat on his haunches. His tongue rolled out of his mouth and he played his part as the most innocent creature in the world.
Sherlock sat up as Mrs. Hudson came rushing into the flat. Their landlady looked between them, worried and confused, "What happened?"
Sherlock tilted his head, "What do you mean?"
The poor landlady looked between the man and dog, who wagged his tail at her.
"You...I heard you two having a terrible row!"
John whined and Sherlock rolled his eyes, "A row? Why would there be a row?"
She paused, "JOhn wasn't...attacking you?"
"What? Of course not."
Mrs. Hudson opened her moth, but no sound came out. She instead let out a long, relieved breath, "Oh goodness, I must be hearing things in my old age."
"Oh, please, Mrs. Hudson. You're as young as can be," Sherlock said as he leaned to the side, shoulder against the sofa.
John laid down on the floor and rolled onto his back, giving them both a goofy dog-smile.
Mrs. Hudson put her hand on the door frame, "Very well, then. As long as you boys are alright."
"Completely fine, wouldn't you say John?" the detective scratched John's side, and the dog's back leg kicked reflexively.
Sherlock heard Mrs. Hudson give an unsatisfactory hum of acceptance as she went back downstairs.
He stopped scratching John, who quickly stood.
Sherlock smirked at the mutt. John wagged his tail in anticipation.
Just another moment, and then...
"JOHN, STOP!" he had to bite back a laugh as John pounced at him again. The happy growls started as John took Sherlock's sleeve in his mouth. Sherlock half-heartedly struggled along the floor as the dog pawed at his head.
Frenzied footsteps were heard again, and Sherlock gave John the signal to back off.
The dog flopped to the ground and curled against Sherlock's side. The detective grabbed a book off the coffee table.
Mrs. Hudson entered with a small frying pan this time, alert and ready to break the fight apart.
Sherlock looked up from the book, "Did you not just walk back downstairs?"
The old woman's mouth dropped open in shock, "But I thought-"
John got up from his spot, went to Mrs. Hudson's side, and leaned against her side lovingly.
She seemed to catch on then, she lowered the pan and pointed angrily at Sherlock, "You're going to give me a heart attack one day, young man."
Sherlock flippantly waved a hand at her, "It was just a joke. Although, it could be useful if I need to make a scene for a case."
He looked at John as the dog was about to take a lick at the pan, probably to catch some dried-on foodstuffs.
"John, stop. Don't you dare."
The mutt seemed to take to the command too well. John immediately forgot the pan and hopped across the room to tackle Sherlock.
"Ack! No, no! I didn't mean it this time!" Sherlock tried, unsuccessfully, to push John off of him.
"Hmph, serves you right," Mrs. Hudson's voice scolded lightly as she left.
Sherlock scowled. His dog flopped on to his chest and started biting at his black curls.
How rude.
She didn't even bother to help him untangle John from his hair.