willtherealpleasestandup said: Are you still taking prompt stuff? Because what if someone gave Sherlock an iDog(remember those??) and he gets attached to it. Like he doesn't even use it for music or anything he just kind of plays with it and takes it everywhere with him and John just kind of doesn't understand anything.
John blinks bleary at the detective currently bouncing on his bed. John was honestly amazed sometimes he hadn’t had to sign custody papers to live with Sherlock. “What are you doing?”
“Good, you’re up.” Sherlock plops down onto John’s lap unceremoniously and shoves something in his face. “What is this?”
“Gah! Fuck, Sherlock, it’s late, can’t this wait?” John complains, throwing one arm over his eyes.
John peaks. “Sherlock, what the hell kind of case are you working that needs you to know what an iPod speaker is?”
Sherlock frowns. “This can’t be an iPod speaker.” He looks down at the toy dog and spins it around in his hands. “It looks nothing like a speaker.”
“It’s for kids. It dances and lights up.” John sighs.
Sherlock seems to be considering this, then he rolls off John and sprints out of the room shouting “Fantastic!”
John came downstairs in the morning expecting to see an empty flat. Instead, he heard the sounds of mechanical whirring. He frowns and enters the living room. Sherlock’s petting the nose of the toy he’d brought into John’s room last night, getting it to spew out pleased little chirps. “Um, Sherlock?”
He shoves the toy into the couch—it plays an unhappy melody—and spins to face John innocently. “Good morning, John. Sleep well?”
John decides not to push it.
The dog became a permanent fixture. Sherlock eventually gave up any resemblance of secrecy and started carrying it with him to crime scenes everywhere, tapping its nose when he got something right and pulling its tail when he didn’t. Sally doesn’t even have the heart to make fun of him for it, she just watches in horror. John tries to get him to leave it at home sometimes, but he never succeeds. Sherlock had grown inexplicably attached to the little robo-creature. There was no point in trying to stop him.
Things go terribly wrong the night of a chase. Sherlock tackles the criminal off a dock and into the water they go. When the police get the man in custody, Sherlock’s quick to take the dog out of his pocket. John watches him hesitantly press on its nose. It doesn’t respond.
“I’m sorry, Sherlock.” John says, and is surprised to find he means it. John’s not sure why Sherlock became so attached to the thing, but he had and the heartbreak on his face is pretty evident.
“I had a dog.” Sherlock tells him. “I had a dog when I was a child. He died. Had to be put down.”
John suddenly gets it. Sherlock grew attached to this dog the same way he had the other one, except he’d expected it to never die. You could replace its batteries and back up it would go. There wasn’t supposed to be a chance for death with this one. John puts a hand on his shoulder. “We can get you another one, you know.”
“That’s not the point.” Sherlock mutters.
“I mean we could get you a real dog. I’m sure Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t mind a small one. Maybe a bulldog.”
Sherlock looks at him. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“A dog would probably be the least odd thing you’ve brought into my life, Sherlock.”
Sherlock begins to laugh at the truth of that, and John ends up joining him. Then Sherlock nods. “Suppose it was silly, anyway. Keeping a toy dog on me.”
“Well, yeah.” John shrugs. “But that’s alright.”
“Farewell, then, friend.” Sherlock sighs dramatically, tossing it into the water. They both watch solemnly as it sinks out of view.