Early Life: Gladstone
By Taleya

Note:

(Since it's movie verse, I fucked with the order they moved in )

Holmes was already quite comfortably ensconced in his new rooms at 221B Baker street when his new roommate arrived the next morning, preceded and proceeded by a succession of boxes and papers.

And a dog.

"Here. Hold him a moment, would you?"  The words were barely out of the physician's mouth before the dog half-leapt, half-fell into Holmes' lap with scrotum-crushing force. 

Holmes was not particularly a dog person.  Particularly not a mush-faced bulldog puppy person. Particularly not when it was engaged in no less than three methods of attempted homicide; drowning him in drool, beating him to death with a far too enthusiastic tail and testicular pulverisation.  

Watson had disappeared, no doubt to shepherd more belongings up the narrow staircase and Holmes and the dog regarded each other.  He managed to shove the furry thing onto his knees and it danced madly in place, a pink tongue lolling ridiculously out of a far-too-fluffy and oversized mouth.   It was a ridiculously small thing, all bandy legs and spotted fur, squinty eyes and slobbering jaws.  And it seemed to regard him as a fine new possession.

His nostrils flared as a peculiar scent wafted through the air.  It also appeared quite, extraordinarily flatulent..

Delightful.

Watson returned and the obnoxious little creature exploded into mad excitement at the sight, despite having seen him less than five minutes previously.  It launched itself out of Holmes' lap and onto the floor and he watched with lips twisted in a moue of displeasure as it pranced about the carpet on its hind legs, yapping madly a high-pitched voice.

Watson flushed at the noise, looking remarkably pink under all that brown.  "Sorry about this, Holmes.  It must be the excitement.  Gladstone's not usually this noisy, I promise.  I'll try and find a way to keep him quiet."

"About half a draught of laudanum should do it."  Holmes didn't realise he'd said that last aloud until Watson was looking up at him from an awkward one-legged kneel on the floor in front of a packing box, cane beside him and slobbering pup leaping up at his chest.

"Sorry, didn't catch that, old chap."  Watson straightened slowly and painfully, knuckles white about the head of his cane and Holmes found himself not repeating the remark, but instead dismissing it, rising to his own feet to take a book out of Watson's hand.

"Nothing," he demurred, slotting the tome in the bookcase in the corner before moving to open a window.  "Just an idle thought."

He was sure he had something in his chemistry set that would do the job, after all.

All Content Copyright © 2001 Taleya Joinson
Last modified: November 12, 2010