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They’d been on a case visiting a suspect’s house in the suburbs of London. The outside of the house was decrepit. The windows were old broken and falling out it was nothing more than a shell, a squat for the lowest of the low. Sherlock forced the door open, the pure stink of the place caused him to clear his throat, he pulled his coat collar up over his mouth. Sherlock searched the upstairs as John checked out the ground floor avoiding the needles and rubbish. He walked into the back garden alone and looked around, it was disgusting, covered in junk and god knows what.
His thoughts went back to Afghanistan and the sheer devastation. How could anyone live like this when they had another option. Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and he spun around. Sherlock raised his hands, realising he had surprised John.
“Sorry Sherlock.” John shuddered, and Sherlock nodded in response. It was all so horrible. There was a scratching noise in the far corner and John made his way over to a small out house. Sherlock walked slowly behind him, as he opened the door. The stench was disgusting there was excrement all over the floor, and an empty water bowl. In the corner was a very skinny British bulldog and snuggling into her was a solitary puppy, not more than a week old.
“Fuck.” John’s eyes started to water. The mother bulldog looked up at him pitifully. It was obvious she wasn’t well. “We need to call the RSPCA Sherlock, now.” He grabbed his phone and made the call. Somehow Sherlock managed to conjure up some clean water and put it into the bowl. The mother dog managed to drag herself over to it and took a drink.
John struggled to keep his emotions in check. He was angry and could feel the tears burning in the corner of his eyes. John had a feeling he was going to hurt the suspect when he found them.
The RSPCA had responded pretty quickly. Sherlock had insisted that John drive along with them to the surgery, while he would see John back at the flat. John Knew Sherlock just humoured him sometimes and he obviously had something better to do. It would have made him angry, but he had something much more important to do.
John watched as the mother and her puppy were checked over. The mother was in poor health and would have to be kept in for special care. It was touch and go. The puppy was in pretty healthy considering, she had taken the best care of him as she could. But now her milk had dried up and she couldn’t look after him. Someone would have to keep him warm, hand feed him and help him go to the toilet.
John volunteered.
Sherlock walked into the alleyway, watching as a dealer sold his wares. He strolled up to the dealer when he was finished.
“Lock, what do you need.” The dealer asked. Sherlock grinned.
“I want to know where this person is.” He held out a photograph of the suspect. “And. I need a favour.” Sherlock handed the dealer a wad of cash. “Whatever this gets.”
John arrived back at the flat, Sherlock was nowhere to be found. He closed the door. He would have to keep the place toasty for the puppy. He put the pet carrier on the kitchen table and opened it. The puppy was still warm and comfortably wrapped in his jumper. John reached in and gave him a little smooth. The puppy wriggled in response. He found himself talking to the little one.
“I’m going to make you some dinner now, and make sure you’re comfortable.” He closed the box made and started to make up the puppy formula. He turned the fire on and got the room temperature thermometer out. He was going to make sure this little one would be fine.
The suspect Steve Thomas was grabbed roughly by the neck and pushed against the wall. Sherlock scowled, and squeezed Steve’s neck.
“I find I want to hurt you.” The Steve grabbed hold of Sherlock’s hands he kicked out at him.
Sherlock strolled in at 1am, John was giving the puppy a feed. He yawned.
“You brought the puppy home.” John nodded, he was annoyed with Sherlock. It really seemed like he didn’t care at all about the poor animals they’d found or him. Sherlock took his coat off and went to the kitchen and ran his hands under the cold water tap. John sighed, why couldn’t Sherlock understand he was upset? The puppy had finished his feed and John had to burp him. He put a tea towel over his lap and patted the puppy on his back.
“Did you find him?” John asked. Sherlock mumbled something John couldn’t quite hear and the puppy let out a little burp. John wet a cotton bud and started to help the puppy go to the toilet. “Sherlock, will you just give me a straight answer.”
“Yes, I found the suspect, he was badly beaten in an alleyway.” Sherlock grimaced as he washed his hands with antibacterial soap. “Lestrade said he was carrying a large amount of cocaine, so he’ll be in prison for a long time. Plus of course the charges for the case we were working on.” John had put the puppy back in his box and walked up behind Sherlock. He looked down at Sherlock’s raw knuckles in the sink concerned.
“Oh Sherlock! Let me look at those for you.” John took Sherlock’s hands in his and carefully applied iodine. Sherlock grunted, the pain was making him shake slightly. He must have been really angry to have done this much damage to himself John thought. He finished cleaning the cuts and bandaged Sherlock’s hands. Then led Sherlock over to the sofa and sat him down. John made him a cup of tea, brought it over and put it on the coffee table. He sat down on the table looking at Sherlock. He brushed a dark curl out of his eyes. “Thank you.” John said a look of pride on his face, he bent down and kissed Sherlock gently on the forehead. Sherlock sat quietly for a moment, unable to move as John took the puppy up to his bedroom. He touched the spot on his forehead, he could still feel John’s lips there. He smiled, he’d never let anyone hurt his John.