Dear God of Sleep...
Title: Sherlock's New Friend
Rating: U
Dedication: For skylockee and my old friend, Basil.
Synopsis: Holmes has a new friend, Watson is worried.
Sherlock's New Friend
It was some weeks after my marriage and I found myself sitting in my old rooms at 221b Baker Street, opposite a rather silent Sherlock Holmes. The fire crackled merrily in the background and the shadows from the gas lamps danced around the walls in a tormenting manner. Sherlock Holmes sat with his eyes closed, brow furrowed and knees drawn up to his chin. A small smile played on his thin lips.
I stared at the worn carpet beneath his chair, noticing that Holmes had candle wax on his slippers. As I was pondering how Holmes could not only allow wax to get onto his slippers but to have left it there, my eyes caught a dark shape darting from under the chair and across the skirting board. I blinked slightly, thinking that perhaps my eyes had deceived me when I caught another movement out of the corner of my eye from the same corner of the room. Frowning slightly, I stared at the skirting.
"What are you looking for?" Holmes asked, breaking his silence.
I was long used to Holmes's sudden interruptions, sudden as they were, and replied: "I think I just saw a mouse."
"Oh, that would be Basil." Holmes replied, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
"Basil?"
"You don't approve? You think I should reconsider?"
"No... Holmes you shouldn't name the vermin."
"Why not?"
"Because..." I stumbled into silence aware that I could not give him satisfying answer.
"Vermin have as much right to names as we do, Mrs Hudson's dog for example was called..."
"A dog is not vermin, it's a pet."
"Basil is a pet."
"It's a mouse."
"Perfectly legitimate pet. Growing up I had a rabbit called Flopsy."
I couldn't help myself, "Flopsy?"
"You seem to have some problem with my choice in names, doctor."
"It's very strange to hear that you had a rabbit called Flopsy."
"I was six."
"You're deliberately changing the subject. You can't name vermin."
"Because I'll become attached and feel guilty when he eventually steps into the trap under the sideboard and ascends into mouse heaven?" He yawned and rubbed the back of his hand. "I assure you, doctor, that because I named the mouse does not mean I have formed an emotional attachment."
"You were attached to your rabbit no doubt."
"Well yes, until we had Flopsy for Sunday dinner."
Horrified, I stared at him. "What?"
"I'm joking, Watson. I named the mouse simply because it's here."
"And what does Mrs Hudson say about this?"
Holmes shrugged, "she doesn't say anything."
"You've spent far too much time alone."