Sherlock sits on the ground, legs crossed, watching the creature collect several shiny objects. A ferret of some sort. He continues to scribble in that notebook of his. He's quite sure he recognizes this creature, despite the slight improbability.
The only indication that Sherlock may be correct or onto something is Moriarty scooting just close enough to spray the area between them and his nest of 'goodies'. And boyo, you should smell the stink it has created. Phew phew phew.
Yes, you do, but it's mine all mine! Moriarty squeaks, embarrassed to even be having this helpless in communicating. He snaps out of the stinky bugger mode and scurries out from under the couch and onto the nearest desk. Hmm, is it John's or Sherlock's? He finds out by sniffing and shuffling papers all about.
Oh yay, it's John's and look, it's his laptop! He taps at it with his tiny paws, determined to make his point.
Sherlock rolls his eyes, brushing his hands in a bit of a 'shoo' motion. "Get off John's laptop, Jim." Still, he's keeping his hands a bit away. Cautious.
Ferrets don't typically bite, but Jim wouldn't make a typical ferret.
Sherlock rolls his eyes again. "Oh please. You expect that to work on me? Fine." He steps back though, his curiosity peaked. The day was otherwise boring anyway.
"You'll clean it afterwards though."
He expects gibberish, after all - animals really can't communicate like humans - at least like he knows.
What's this? This is new. His tiny empty stomach rumbled. Apples never smelled soooo good. He doesn't even respond except by snatching the first slice offered, munching and dripping apple bits onto papers but not keyboard. He did have some manners even in this form.
Sherlock observes with interest cutting a thin slice for himself. Jim is lucky he didn't inject it with poison. Merely experiment, of course, not with particular intent.
Jim is lucky to have all his faculties at this point. He had considered certain suspicions, but chose to ignore them in favor of satisfying all his biological needs first.
He stops to type. when is you know who arriving back?
There was a new ferret sheriff in town and he already making plans to take's john place as pet, which was what Jim considered John's status as in this household.
Sherlock narrows his eyes slightly and shrugs in answer. "Depends on if he has a longer day at the clinic or not. Why? Are you planning to hide or something?"
Sherlock had no intentions of replacing John, who wasn't really a pet, no matter what Jim might think.
He was planning to chew on and then piss in his shoes, in that order. He did not voice that in squeak or type. One could tell that he was plotting and scheming by his almost methodical pacing and surveying.
And then a yawn of all things.
Where the hell was he supposed to sleep?! Feeling more feral by the minute due to a deep need for rest, he leaped up and landed on Sherlock's shoulder, promptly making a cozy home around his neck.
*He practically squeaks as he plays with and gnaws on his newest toy under the couch ...a shiny white smartphone charger.*
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He continues to scribble in that notebook of his. He's quite sure he recognizes this creature, despite the slight improbability.
"Jim?" He frowns at his own question.
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He just shakes his head, rolling his eyes.
He shifts.
"Fine, fine - I'll move. Not like I want coins and bits of foil."
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Oh yay, it's John's and look, it's his laptop! He taps at it with his tiny paws, determined to make his point.
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Ferrets don't typically bite, but Jim wouldn't make a typical ferret.
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But he wants to type. He knows he can if he could just get these godawful grubby little hands to ...
he looks up and gives Sherlock the most winningest Disney animal expression ever.
No really.
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"You'll clean it afterwards though."
He expects gibberish, after all - animals really can't communicate like humans - at least like he knows.
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you take care of me and i'll still owe you
but in a i'm not gonna burn you sort of way. cross my ferreted little heart and hope to die.
Oh yes, he looks quite pleased with himself.
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He cuts up half the apple, still regarding Jim warily. "At least you're mostly harmless in this - form."
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He stops to type. when is you know who arriving back?
There was a new ferret sheriff in town and he already making plans to take's john place as pet, which was what Jim considered John's status as in this household.
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Sherlock had no intentions of replacing John, who wasn't really a pet, no matter what Jim might think.
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And then a yawn of all things.
Where the hell was he supposed to sleep?! Feeling more feral by the minute due to a deep need for rest, he leaped up and landed on Sherlock's shoulder, promptly making a cozy home around his neck.
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His tone is warning, but he'd rather just let Jim do as he likes than risk getting bitten, or anything of the sort.
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