Fic: The Arrival of Gladstone
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Disclaimer: Belongs to ACD and BBC, not mitsuruaki. Still love you guys, though.
Title: The Arrival of Gladstone
Author: mitsuruaki
For: Ryojou
Pairing: none
Rated: G
Words: 283
Notes: This was a drabble I wrote for a friend when I sent her a card, which had the cutest little dog on the cover. I’m aware Gladstone is a bulldog in Holmes ‘09, but this dog was not and was definitely a mix of several different breeds. Point being, I can’t find the picture again on the internet. But it’s all fine, because this dog is more like the one I had in mind anyway.
In case you care.
“John, what…what is that?”
“This? Oh, just a dog.”
“Yes, I can see that. Why is it here?”
“Sherlock, it’s pouring out.”
“And?”
“Well I couldn’t just leave it outside. It was there when I ran to the Tesco to get milk, and it was still there drenched and shivering when I got back.”
“So?”
“It’ll get ill, Sherlock. Have you no empathy at all?”
“Hmph. Can’t you give it to Mrs. Hudson?”
“She’s spending the night at her sister’s. Is there a pet clause on the lease?”
“Hopefully.”
“Sherlock.”
“….”
“What should we name it?”
“We are not naming that thing, John.”
“It’s not a thing; it’s a boy. I think I’m going to keep it.”
“What? No!”
“Why can’t I have a dog?”
“You-there’s no-John, the rooms here are not suitable for-”
“I’m keeping the dog, Sherlock. So. Name?”
“……”
“Your brother texted. He says ‘Cameron’.”
“We are not naming it anything Mycroft suggests!”
“Isn’t that the Prime Minister’s last name?”
“We’re not naming it Cameron.”
“How about an older one, then?”
“Why are you keeping it? Can’t you just put it back?”
“Thatcher?”
“You said it was a boy.”
“Right. Churchill? Chamberlain?”
“Gladstone?”
“….I thought you didn’t know the Prime Ministers.”
“I said I didn’t know the current one.”
“Oh. Well. Gladstone it is, then.”
“I’m not feeding that thing, John. Or caring for it in any way.”
“I’d be surprised if you did anything other than experiment on him. Which you better not do.”
“Hmmmm…”
“Sherlock!”
And several weeks later, if John caught Sherlock playing with Gladstone, or allowing the little dog to lay on his stomach while he deduced things on the sofa, he didn’t say a word.
Disclaimer: Belongs to ACD and BBC, not mitsuruaki. Still love you guys, though.
Title: The Arrival of Gladstone
Author: mitsuruaki
For: Ryojou
Pairing: none
Rated: G
Words: 283
Notes: This was a drabble I wrote for a friend when I sent her a card, which had the cutest little dog on the cover. I’m aware Gladstone is a bulldog in Holmes ‘09, but this dog was not and was definitely a mix of several different breeds. Point being, I can’t find the picture again on the internet. But it’s all fine, because this dog is more like the one I had in mind anyway.
In case you care.
“John, what…what is that?”
“This? Oh, just a dog.”
“Yes, I can see that. Why is it here?”
“Sherlock, it’s pouring out.”
“And?”
“Well I couldn’t just leave it outside. It was there when I ran to the Tesco to get milk, and it was still there drenched and shivering when I got back.”
“So?”
“It’ll get ill, Sherlock. Have you no empathy at all?”
“Hmph. Can’t you give it to Mrs. Hudson?”
“She’s spending the night at her sister’s. Is there a pet clause on the lease?”
“Hopefully.”
“Sherlock.”
“….”
“What should we name it?”
“We are not naming that thing, John.”
“It’s not a thing; it’s a boy. I think I’m going to keep it.”
“What? No!”
“Why can’t I have a dog?”
“You-there’s no-John, the rooms here are not suitable for-”
“I’m keeping the dog, Sherlock. So. Name?”
“……”
“Your brother texted. He says ‘Cameron’.”
“We are not naming it anything Mycroft suggests!”
“Isn’t that the Prime Minister’s last name?”
“We’re not naming it Cameron.”
“How about an older one, then?”
“Why are you keeping it? Can’t you just put it back?”
“Thatcher?”
“You said it was a boy.”
“Right. Churchill? Chamberlain?”
“Gladstone?”
“….I thought you didn’t know the Prime Ministers.”
“I said I didn’t know the current one.”
“Oh. Well. Gladstone it is, then.”
“I’m not feeding that thing, John. Or caring for it in any way.”
“I’d be surprised if you did anything other than experiment on him. Which you better not do.”
“Hmmmm…”
“Sherlock!”
And several weeks later, if John caught Sherlock playing with Gladstone, or allowing the little dog to lay on his stomach while he deduced things on the sofa, he didn’t say a word.