Day #21: Canine
Mutt
(Rated K)
It had been years after Sherlock Holmes had requested a pet that he finally reviewed one. When he asked at the tender age of four for a puppy, he had been hoping for an animal that was intelligent and willing to tag along on his adventures. As he got older, he realised that no one, human or animal, wished to join him on adventures, and they were all dumb anyway. But on Sherlock's ninth birthday, he was given a puppy of his very own.
Sherlock didn't want a puppy anymore. He had discovered long ago that he was much better off alone, so when he opened a box to see his new pet, he was more than a little disappointed. The puppy had a human face, sandy blond hair nearly falling to his eyes. Two floppy ears framed his face, and Sherlock could see the end of a tail wagging in joy, fur the same colour as his hair.
The idea of a hybrid puppy intrigued and disgusted him. Sure, they were rare, and only the richest of people could afford them, but that also meant that this puppy would ask him stupid questions instead of barking incessantly.
"I don't want a puppy." Sherlock responded, looking away from the creature. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the tail stop wagging, drooping at his cruel words. "Take him back."
"We can't." Mummy said with a small frown. "He's yours, and you will take care of him."
Sherlock sighed dramatically, turning back to his puppy. "What's your name?"
"Aren't you supposed to name me?" The puppy asked nervously, fiddling with his collar.
"Yes, but I don't want to. Surely you had a name before?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him.
"John." The puppy said. "I was named John."
"John." Sherlock replied, tasting the name on his tongue. Ordinary. Boring. "Fine. Follow me, I'll show you your room."
"My room?" John asked as he quickly fell in step with the boy. "I have a room?"
"Obviously." Sherlock sighed. "You'll be sleeping in my room. My parents have probably already set up a bed for you in there."
"Oh." John replied. "Thank you very much."
Sure enough, Sherlock's room now had a brand new plush bed for John. It was round and luxurious looking, and Sherlock could see John's tail wagging at the sight of it, though he pretended not to notice. It sat on the floor in the corner of the room nearest Sherlock's bed, nestled between his dresser and his desk he used for experiments.
"Did they make you sleep on the floor, or was it a wooden bed?" Sherlock asked the hybrid, who froze at his question.
"What?" John asked, looking startled.
"At the pound. Did they make you sleep on the floor, or did you have a wooden bed." Sherlock repeated.
"The…uh, floor." John stammered. "How did you-"
"It's quite obvious." Sherlock interrupted eagerly, pleased to show off. "You looked at the bed with overzealous glee. Perhaps you had slept on beds before, however there is a stiffness to your shoulders that suggests otherwise. There is also faint rashes on your neck that indicate long periods resting against rough surfaces."
John's mouth fell open, and Sherlock wondered if he would yell at him, or just ignore him. The idea of John not wanting to be his puppy anymore was a sad one, and Sherlock was surprised by the sudden desire to take back all his words and try again.
"That was amazing." John said, startling Sherlock out of his nervous thoughts. "You just…read all that off of me?"
"I…did, yes." Sherlock replied, obviously confused.
"And you can do that with anyone?" John asked eagerly.
"Of course."
"Brilliant."
Perhaps Sherlock had misjudged his puppy. After all, someone who called him amazing and brilliant couldn't be completely idiot, could they?
John and Sherlock quickly became close, the hybrid following the boy everywhere. Sherlock decided that John was probably the only other non-stupid person in the entire world, and how very lucky he was to find him. His only worry, however, was that Jeff Hope would try and take John away. Jeff Hope was the local bully, and he always stole things from Sherlock. That's not to say that Sherlock never got his things back, but taking John would hurt the most.
They ran into the bully about a week after Sherlock's birthday. He had just finished telling John about how he solved the case of the mysterious disappearing football, (they had left it by a creek, and it had floated down stream) and John was telling Sherlock how smart and incredible he was when they heard that dreaded voice.
"Oi! It's the freak! And what does he have here? You couldn't get a friend, so your mummy had to buy one?" Hope sneered. Sherlock opened his mouth to bite back a retort when John stormed forward, growling softly.
"Sherlock is amazing, and I'm his friend because I want to be!"
"So loyal." Hope rolled his eyes, stepping around the golden-haired hybrid. "But mutts usually are, aren't they. Too bad he can't stop me from doing this."
Hope cocked his arm, gearing up for a punch. Really, Sherlock was used to it by now, his eyes falling closed as he prepared for the inevitable hit. But it never came. Instead, a high pitched yelping pierced the air, and Sherlock opened his eyes just in time to catch John biting Hope's ankle, anger clear in his eyes.
"Don't you dare hit my friend!" John growled as he let go, and Hope shot him a terrified look before limping away quickly, cursing about posh rich kids and their stupid pets. But Sherlock didn't care what Hope said, he had eyes only for John.
"You protected me." Sherlock said, his eyes wide.
"Friends protect people." John replied, giving Sherlock a small smile. Sherlock bounded forward, wrapping his skinny arms around John's shoulders tightly.
"You're my best friend." He said into John's neck. "Don't you ever forget it."
"You're my best friend too." John replied, his own arms curling around Sherlock. "Friends till the very end."