Sherlock Puppy

Part 10

by Cyberwolf (wolf at mydestiny.net)
4/20/02

Whoo! Finally got to the double-digits! ^_^

Recap from Chapter 9:

"YOU PERVERT!"

(We now resume your regularly scheduled fanfic.)


Chapter 10: Just the Facts

Holmes immediately began spouting denials, until he realized that, lacking human vocal chords, all he was doing was barking loudly. And that Lestrade was still advancing on him threateningly. He yipped and took off.

An hour later:

After using his paws to type out a long grammatically horrible sequence of words -- in which one out of four words were misspelled -- he had explained to Lestrade what had happened. The first thing he explained, of course, was that he had seen nothing, nothing at all, when she had given him a bath.

Seeing as how Holmes was the only person in the world who could still be called a Victorian gentleman (Moriarty did not count, thank you very much) Lestrade gradually calmed down and accepted the explanation. Once you accepted that your new-found pet was actually your best friend who was thought dead, it was surprisingly easy to go along and accept the rest of whatever happened -- a sort of suspension of disbelief, as if this were all a dream.

Later, Lestrade was seated on the floor, and Seeker -- Holmes -- was on the computer chair, discussing the transformation while Lestrade tried not to think of how silly she looked having a serious conversation with a small puppy-dog.

"Okay, okay -- so you were out getting groceries, and then a truck crashed into you, and this glowy liquid fell on you, and then a wall fell on you?" Lestrade shook her head. "It sounds like the pilot episode of a bad cartoon series. Only if it were, youíd turn into something a little more super-powered."

Holmes growled.

Lestrade grinned, feeling a bit like things were getting back to normal.

"Remember, Holmes," Lestrade said as they walked through the crowded city streets, "bark once for yes, twice for no. Got that?"

Holmes barked once.

"Good boy!" Lestrade teased. Once she got over the shock, she found that having Holmes available to be collared and leashed and have to act like she was his mistress was almost wickedly easy fuel for teasing. And now that Holmes knew that she knew, his disgruntlement with the whole situation was very plain to see.

"Wait, here we are," Lestrade said, pulling slightly on the leash. She stared at the crumbled wall. There was a cordon set up around its area, as well as a few bobbies sternly warning off those who stopped to stare. The truck had apparently already been moved away, but they were taking more care with the wall.

Lestrade came nearer. She could have flashed her badge and gotten in, but sheíd have a time explaining her Ďpetí. So she just lingered nearer, trying to see what she could. A bobby noticed her and came nearer, before doing a double-take.

"Beth? Elizabeth Lestrade?"

Lestrade, honestly startled, looked at him. "Danny!" Daniel Quimby was a fairly close acquaintance -- they had been friends, before duty and life had made them drift apart, classmates in high school. She hadnít seen him for five or more years.

He came closer, smiling, and stuck out a hand. They shook warmly.

"Danny! Wow, so youíve worked your way up the ranks," Beth said, admiring the lieutenantís bars on his uniform -- obviously he was the one in charge here.

"Me? How about you? Hotshot Yardie!" Danny said, doffing his hat mockingly. "Heard about all that stuff with Sherlock Holmes...you always were reading that sorta stuff, but I didnít think youíd take it so far."

"Stuff it, Danny."

"Right, right...cute pup," he said, changing the subject. He bent down and extended a hand to the gold-furred puppy next to Lestrade. Seeker ignored him -- quite obviously. If heíd been human, Danny thought, he would have called it a deliberate snub.

"This is Seeker," Lestrade said. "New puppy. Got him yesterday."

"I heard that the Yard was starting up a new K-9 program. Gonna do it from the ground up, seems like, huh? So, youíre one of the handlers?"

Lestrade hemmed and hawed. "Er...you could say that." Hurriedly she changed the subject. "Whatís that?"

"Itís a wall," Danny drawled. He had always fancied himself quite the wit in high school, Lestrade remembered as she rolled her eyes. He could be funny, but sometimes he just made you want to hit him on the head. She had a couple of times.

"No, really? Wow, and here I always thought it had to be standing up to be called one. Whyís it all down on the ground like that?" she asked, taking on a vapid tone.

Danny shuddered. "Please donít do that," he pleaded. "It sounds so unnatural coming from you."

He didnít see it, but the puppy beside Lestrade nodded his head in agreement.

Lestrade did, and decided to warn Holmes about doing...un- puppyish...things. Call it paranoia, but she didnít want anyone noticing how extraordinarily intelligent her new pet seemed to be. There had been that incident with the genetically-manipulated cats...sure, that was way back in 2076, but now there was a section of New Scotland Yard dedicated to investigating crimes against the Himmelman-Trotsky Accords -- the international ban on unregulated genetic experiments. The Gene Squad, as the other Yardies called them, were mostly fanatics about their job. They made Lestrade look like a goof-off. Somehow, she didnít know where, the head of the department had rounded up people who seriously and whole- heartedly believed that genetic manipulation would bring about the end of civilization. Personally, Lestrade thought they played a little too much Resident Evil 15: Extreme Prejudice. Still, she didnít want to get on their bad side.

She recalled the glow of fanaticism in their eyes, and shuddered. She would really have to tell Holmes to act more like a dog.

"....so then the truck-driver; his nameís Sam, by the way, poor guy -- heís probably going to take a major pay-cut; plowed the truck straight into the wall. You know, of all the walls to hit, heís got to pick the one scheduled for demolition; the one rickety enough to fall," Danny completed his story, shaking his head. "That guyís luck really bites. Lucky though, that no one was hurt during all that. Heard one hoverblading kid got close to it, though..."

Lestrade frowned in thought, wondering why the fact that there was supposed to be a man under all that rubble was being hushed up. Watson had known, and she assumed Grayson did...

"...and whoo, what a job cleaning up that truck was!" Danny rambled on. "Took us so long, thatís why the wallís just being started. That truck was filled with chemicals, right, and we had to vacuum up every last drop of the spill...."

"Really?" Lestrade said, taking note of the conversation now. "Whatís wrong with it? Is it corrosive, acid, radioactive, what?"

"Well...no. Itís...hell, I donít know how to explain it," Danny said. "The guy who they were shipping it to -- some professor with a lab way out in Surrey - well, he knows what it is, but when he tried to explain it to the capín, the capín just came out looking really lost -- you know, sort of like me whenever old Frederickson pulled a pop quiz on us."

"Whatís the professorís name?"

"Er...Utonium, I think. Professor Jack Utonium, Jr."

"Right. Hey, Iíd better be going now. Nice to see you again, Danny," she told him, waving.

"Right back at you!" he said, waving back.

A half-hour later found Lestrade and Holmes in her cruiser, on the way to Surrey.

On to Part 11!

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