Sherlock Puppy

Part 5

by Cyberwolf (wolf at mydestiny.net)
4/12/02

AN: Pure fluff. Nothing happens. Holmes fears for his sanity.

Chapter V: Playtime

Lestrade spent the rest of the night trying to play with Seeker. She dangled rubber bones in front of him, tossed chew-toys, wound up a small mouse-toy for him to chase -- but Seeker refused to snap at the bone, fetch the toys, or chase the mouse-toy. Sometimes, he’d stand really still, and Lestrade would think he was just about to leap at the mouse or run after the tossed chew-toy; but no, he’d just lie down again, turning his head away from her.

Finally Lestrade gave up, deciding her new pet was an unusually solemn one. Such a cute puppy, though! She left him curled up on the living-room rug, and curled up herself with a new book -- for a change, not a manual on forensic science or a mystery novel -- and a cup of hot tea on the sofa. Midway through the first chapter, she noticed that Seeker had gotten up and was standing beside the sofa, head cocked curiously as he looked at her. She laughed a little, scooped the puppy up -- Seeker was small enough to be ‘scooped’ with her hands -- and deposited the small bundle of furry warmth on her stomach. She idly used one hand to stroke the puppy as she read. By the time she had finished her cup of tea, she discovered that Seeker had fallen asleep on her stomach.

She stroked one finger over the golden fur, tenderly, rubbing the back of the ears as Seeker seemed to like. The puppy wagged his tail once in his sleep. Lestrade smiled, and since the sofa was a wide soft eminently comfortable one, dropped off to sleep herself.

Holmes had not wanted to play games. He may have had to wear a leash and collar; he may have had to be swept for fleas and then be given a bath; he may have had to eat small hard pellets for dinner; but he did _not_ have to chase after rubber things, and he would not.

To his utter horror, he discovered that a part of him wanted to chase after the toys; wanted to bark and yelp and run around in circles after his tail or the mouse-toy; wanted to pounce on the chew-toys and gnaw at them. Since he had never had these urges before, he was forced to conclude that there was still a bit of the pup’s original persona in him, not quite overtaken by his human psyche -- or, worse to his manner of thinking, he was beginning to be affected by his canine body into desiring to act like a dog.

Once or twice, he had found himself on the verge of giving into these urges, managing to come back to himself just at the nick of time. Lestrade, whose playfulness was known to him but never experienced so first-hand, finally seemed to get the message.

Holmes looked up to see her on the couch, a cup of tea on the nearby coffee-table, and a book in her hands. She seemed very engrossed in whatever she was reading. Despite having eyesight just as sharp as when he was a human, Holmes couldn’t quite make out the book’s title from where he was; he was too low to the ground, and at an awkward angle. So, he came nearer, craning his neck to read the title.

May the Road Rise to Meet You he managed to make out -- and then almost yelped in astonishment as Lestrade noticed him, and with a huge grin on her face, scooped him up. Frozen in shock, he didn’t wriggle in her hands, and when he was deposited on her stomach, he dared not move for fear of tumbling yet again to the ground -- which, in his current size, was the equivalent of a six-foot drop to him as a human. So he curled up tight, and couldn’t help but drift off to sleep -- with the absolute quiet, and the exhaustion of this most peculiar day, and of course with the soothing touch of Lestrade’s fingers -- how could he not?

Got Lestrade’s book title from a line in the song I was listening to as I wrote it. Five points to those who can name the song!

On to Part 6!

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