Greeting to all of you wonderful readers! I just wanted to give a shout out to everyone who reviewed, alerted, or favorited this story. I didn't know so many people would actually like this! Thanks guys! You are all the bee's knees.
Although this one wasn't based off any (I felt that Mycroft needed to make a special appearance), I'm still taking prompts, so if you have any please leave it in a comment. Thanks loves!
One more thing. I'd like to point out something important about Benedict Cumberbatch's engagement...does this now mean we'll be seeing Sophie Hunter in Sherlock sometime soon? What with Moffat's son and Amanda Abbington getting their share of roles, it wouldn't surprise me if she randomly showed up in Season 4. I don't know who she'd play, but she'll have a part, I just know it!
This story was inspired by ausherlock's Little Companion story collection.
Disclaimer: Guys, seriously, for the last time: I do not own Sherlock! Why does everybody keep thinking that?
The tennis ball rolled elegantly across the wood floor of 221B Baker Street. Its greenish-yellow covering was pulled and torn,and the white rubber was marred with teeth marks. To a dog, it was a thing of pure beauty.
John pounced from his hiding spot behind Sherlock's chair and pawed at the ball to make it roll again. He took it in his maw and shook his head before tossing it across the flat once more. It was one of those days where Alpha Sherlock was busy with body parts, where he always came back with the faint scent of a human female with a cat. Alpha Sherlock had been doing that a lot recently, but John was content to entertain himself for a few hours. Besides, he'd just bark if he needed to get Mrs. Hudson's attention.
His playing session seemed to be one of those times though. The front door near Mrs. Hudson's territory opened and closed.
John froze, his tail up and ears erect as he listened to the heavy footsteps. John sniffed the air deeply and smelled fancy artificial scents, paper, and human food. The natural smell underneath it all was similar to that of Sherlock's. It was a familiar scent that John recognized as that of Sherlock's litter-mate.
John let out a series of alert barks, telling the man he was entering their territory and to abide by their rules.
Sherlock's litter-mate, John remembered his name was Mycroft, opened the door without knocking. John went silent as the man stared at him.
The elder man sighed, "I take it your owner is absent then?"
John lowered his head warily and slinked off to lay on his bed near the hearth. He kept his eyes on his Alpha's sibling as the man closed the door behind him and took a seat on Sherlock's chair.
It wasn't that John hated the man. Other-Alpha Mycroft never hurt him or anyone else in their territory, but he held an aura of intimidation about him that John found unsettling. He knew Mycroft wouldn't hurt him, but that didn't change the fact that the mutt was cautious when he was around.
Mycroft kept his eyes on John, "You do not have to wander out of my way. I'm not going to devour you, no matter what my brother says."
John cocked his head at that. Had Sherlock's birth pack all been like this? It would explain why his Alpha always says weird things. It would probably also explain why Sherlock went off on his own in the first place.
Mycroft leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together, "What has he been up to by the way? I hardly see him anymore. Still doing his...experiments?"
Other Alpha-Mycroft seemed to grimace at the last word. John felt some of the tension leave him as the man kept talking. It was almost the same as having Sherlock in the room.
"Perhaps you'd be willing to spy on him for me."
Almost.
John fidgeted and rotated his ears back a bit, not knowing what the human was getting at by talking to him.
Sherlock's litter-mate rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, "I am conversing with a canine."
There was a considerable shift in the atmosphere of the room, and John huffed in amusement at the man.
Mycroft raised an eyebrow at the noise then did something John didn't expect.
The man got up from Sherlock's chair and sat himself on the floor a bit closer to John. The mutt felt anxious again at the close proximity and gave a small growl of discomfort.
Mycroft froze at the sound, but then narrowed his eyes in irritation, "Come now, let's have none of that. I am here as an ally. I would like us to be close enough to where I can care for you if Sherlock is...incapacitated."
John stopped growling. That was...unexpected. John never thought about where he'd go if something happened to his leader. Such forethought wasn't something that didn't tend to pass through a dog's mind. But the image of Mycroft feeding him, walking him, playing fetch with him, or doing anything with him sounded unfeasible.
Mycroft sighed, "I have done many wrongs by my brother throughout our lifetime, but leaving you alone, without any assistance is something he would never forgive me for."
He reached inside one of his jacket pockets and produced a dog treat. John's interest was immediately peaked as he caught the smell of chicken and cheese. Mycroft held the tasty morsel out on the palm of his hand.
John sat up slowly, eying Mycroft's stoic expression as he scooted forward with his forelegs, and quickly snapped up the food.
It was small but it tasted very good as John happily munched on it. He swallowed it and licked his muddy brown muzzle afterwords to keep the taste.
He had been so busy savoring the snack he hadn't noticed that Mycroft was scratching behind his ear. The mutt couldn't help it, he leaned his head sideways into the affectionate scratch. His tail wagged a bit.
Okay, maybe Sherlock's litter-mate wasn't so bad after all.
A flat voice came from the doorway, "Breaking in again, Mycroft?"
John let out a happy yip and wagged his tail. He trotted over to Sherlock and jumped onto his hind legs to try to lick the detective's face in greeting. Sherlock stumbled back. John was almost to his mature height and his head came level with Sherlock's chest when he jumped up like that.
Despite his protests, Sherlock allowed the display of affection. John lowered back down onto his four paws while Sherlock patted his head.
Sherlock sent a scathing look at his brother, "Were you...petting John when I entered?"
Mycroft laboriously got to his feet, "Of course not, brother dear. I was merely seeing how his shoulder was coming along."
Sherlock didn't seem to buy it, "Then, pray tell, why are you here?"
"What? I can't use my liberties as a family member to come over and spend time with my sibling?"
Sherlock narrowed his eyes, unamused, "Humor doesn't suit you, Mycroft. And neither does that suit. Is the diet going that horribly?"
John barked at him sharply.
The consulting detective glared down at the mutt, "Since when do you take his side?"
John just pulled his ears back and looked away.
Mycroft almost smiled at the display of obstinacy from the animal before reaching for the folder he brought in with him.
"I was wondering if you could take this case for me."
"No."
Mycroft smiled humorlessly, "I knew you would say that. So I'm leaving it here."
He placed the folder on a table near Sherlock's chair. Afterwords, he looked down at John and winked, "Make sure he reads it will you? Those Bruce-Partington Plans won't find themselves."
And Mycroft couldn't help but smirk when the mutt sat up just a bit straighter. Ex-army dog indeed.
If he could do anything right by his brother, Mycroft through, then looking after John Watson would have to be it.