Young Sherlock Holmes Fanfic: A Dog's Tale (JWP #12)
Title: A Dog's Tale
Fandom: Young Sherlock Holmes
Character: Uncus the dog, Elizabeth Hardy
Alternate Postings: AO3
Rating/Content: PG, POV Dog
Warnings: none
Word Count: 369
Disclaimer: Not my world. Not even my usual world.
Notes: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #12: Doyle vs. Dogs. Might be a rather obscure Holmesian dog, but one pivotal to the plot of his iteration. First fic I've written in this verse and it's... odd.
Summary: A scene from Young Sherlock Holmes from the viewpoint of its hero, a small, mostly white terrier.
(At least I think Uncus is a terrier. He thinks he is, and that's the important thing.)
A Dog's Tale
Uncus was a good dog, a small dog, and Uncus knew the bells. Bells walked through the flat stone boy-yard now and then. The bells were not what he feared. Tonight the bells were inside a thick heavy human-fur, the kind that humans grew going outdoors and shed coming in. It stank. It reeked of blood and terror and wrongness and the small hot lights of night and death. The bells he knew, the bells were familiar. The robe belonged to a predator.
His human was walking him alone; she needed to be protected from the predator. She didn't know it was there. Uncus wouldn't have disobeyed his human if it hadn't been important. He was small, but a threat was a threat. His human would not be threatened. Uncus jerked away from her grip on his lead and chased after the predator.
"Uncus!?" she called as she began to run after him.
Bad, bad, his human was running toward the danger now; Uncus had to make the danger go away. He ran faster, trailing his leash, barking at the blood-death reeking human. The bells jingled ahead of him and the human jumped up to climb a wall, like a clever cat.
"Uncus!" his human shouted.
Uncus had to be sure the blood-death human knew Uncus's people were protected. He jumped and bit at the human's trailing outdoor-skin, wanting to clamp on like his instincts said to: Grab the rat, shake the rat, kill the rat.
The human's outdoor-skin tore away in Uncus's mouth; foul tasting, old blood, new death. Uncus barked his fury and threats at the predator as it slipped over the wall. If it came near his people again he would do whatever he could to keep them safe.
His human picked up the scrap of outdoor-skin he'd bitten off the predator and picked Uncus up, kissing him. "Uncus, why did you do that? Left me all alone!"
Uncus was a good dog. He would never run away from his human if it wasn't important. Protecting his human was important, more important than obedience. He was a very small dog, but a threat was a threat and a rat was a rat.
Nothing threatened Uncus's people.
-.-.-
(that's it)
Fandom: Young Sherlock Holmes
Character: Uncus the dog, Elizabeth Hardy
Alternate Postings: AO3
Rating/Content: PG, POV Dog
Warnings: none
Word Count: 369
Disclaimer: Not my world. Not even my usual world.
Notes: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #12: Doyle vs. Dogs. Might be a rather obscure Holmesian dog, but one pivotal to the plot of his iteration. First fic I've written in this verse and it's... odd.
Summary: A scene from Young Sherlock Holmes from the viewpoint of its hero, a small, mostly white terrier.
(At least I think Uncus is a terrier. He thinks he is, and that's the important thing.)
A Dog's Tale
Uncus was a good dog, a small dog, and Uncus knew the bells. Bells walked through the flat stone boy-yard now and then. The bells were not what he feared. Tonight the bells were inside a thick heavy human-fur, the kind that humans grew going outdoors and shed coming in. It stank. It reeked of blood and terror and wrongness and the small hot lights of night and death. The bells he knew, the bells were familiar. The robe belonged to a predator.
His human was walking him alone; she needed to be protected from the predator. She didn't know it was there. Uncus wouldn't have disobeyed his human if it hadn't been important. He was small, but a threat was a threat. His human would not be threatened. Uncus jerked away from her grip on his lead and chased after the predator.
"Uncus!?" she called as she began to run after him.
Bad, bad, his human was running toward the danger now; Uncus had to make the danger go away. He ran faster, trailing his leash, barking at the blood-death reeking human. The bells jingled ahead of him and the human jumped up to climb a wall, like a clever cat.
"Uncus!" his human shouted.
Uncus had to be sure the blood-death human knew Uncus's people were protected. He jumped and bit at the human's trailing outdoor-skin, wanting to clamp on like his instincts said to: Grab the rat, shake the rat, kill the rat.
The human's outdoor-skin tore away in Uncus's mouth; foul tasting, old blood, new death. Uncus barked his fury and threats at the predator as it slipped over the wall. If it came near his people again he would do whatever he could to keep them safe.
His human picked up the scrap of outdoor-skin he'd bitten off the predator and picked Uncus up, kissing him. "Uncus, why did you do that? Left me all alone!"
Uncus was a good dog. He would never run away from his human if it wasn't important. Protecting his human was important, more important than obedience. He was a very small dog, but a threat was a threat and a rat was a rat.
Nothing threatened Uncus's people.
-.-.-
(that's it)