Holmes fic: He Doesn't Mind
Title: He Doesn't Mind
Universe: RDJ movieverse
Rating: G
Wordcount: 160
Characters: Watson, Gladstone, Holmes
Summary: Watson discovers why Holmes doesn't mind having Gladstone around. (Pre-movies)
A/N: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #12: Doyle vs. Dogs: Toby notwithstanding, dogs got a raw deal in Sherlock Holmes Canon - shot, poisoned, thrown out windows, stung by jellyfish. Feature a dog in your entry in some way (preferably without dying) from any incarnation of Sherlock Holmes - Redbeard, Gladstone, the Dog that Did Nothing, or even an honorary “dog” like Clyde the tortoise.
Bulldogs aren't useful as bloodhounds, nor was Gladstone temperamentally inclined to be a guard dog, so I was uncertain why Holmes was willing to have him around. That Holmes might simply be fond of dogs crossed my mind, but it seemed unlikely.
Then I came home from my club one evening to find Gladstone foaming at the mouth. "How long has he been like this?" I demanded, kneeling beside him.
"Don't worry, it will abate in . . . five minutes or less," Holmes said, consulting his pocketwatch. "He doesn't mind."
"What did you do?" I'm sure my exasperation was quite evident in my voice.
"I had to determine how a perfectly healthy dog could appear rabid on command. With an aggressive animal, you can see that the effect would be most convincing."
I sighed heavily and decided I wasn't going to ask how frequently Holmes experimented on the dog. I patted Gladstone's side and marveled that he truly didn't seem to mind.
Universe: RDJ movieverse
Rating: G
Wordcount: 160
Characters: Watson, Gladstone, Holmes
Summary: Watson discovers why Holmes doesn't mind having Gladstone around. (Pre-movies)
A/N: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #12: Doyle vs. Dogs: Toby notwithstanding, dogs got a raw deal in Sherlock Holmes Canon - shot, poisoned, thrown out windows, stung by jellyfish. Feature a dog in your entry in some way (preferably without dying) from any incarnation of Sherlock Holmes - Redbeard, Gladstone, the Dog that Did Nothing, or even an honorary “dog” like Clyde the tortoise.
Bulldogs aren't useful as bloodhounds, nor was Gladstone temperamentally inclined to be a guard dog, so I was uncertain why Holmes was willing to have him around. That Holmes might simply be fond of dogs crossed my mind, but it seemed unlikely.
Then I came home from my club one evening to find Gladstone foaming at the mouth. "How long has he been like this?" I demanded, kneeling beside him.
"Don't worry, it will abate in . . . five minutes or less," Holmes said, consulting his pocketwatch. "He doesn't mind."
"What did you do?" I'm sure my exasperation was quite evident in my voice.
"I had to determine how a perfectly healthy dog could appear rabid on command. With an aggressive animal, you can see that the effect would be most convincing."
I sighed heavily and decided I wasn't going to ask how frequently Holmes experimented on the dog. I patted Gladstone's side and marveled that he truly didn't seem to mind.