Sherlock X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

There's A Dog In This One (Part 2)

Once they were in the flat, Y/N arranged Basil's water and food bowls in the kitchen and placed his bed near to the fire that purred contentedly away in the hearth. Sherlock carried Basil all the way to his bed and placed him upon it, his smile not having disappeared or showing any signs of leaving. Basil made several circles before flopping down with a slightly-old dog groan, which Sherlock found absolutely delightful because not nearly a second later he was pampering him again, rubbing his thick, glossy coat as he sat cross legged at his side.

Y/N had wondered if Basil would miss Laura and Ted---had wondered whether him howling in the night would be an issue---but now she didn't know why she'd bothered. He was clearly in absolute heaven, rolling onto his back to expose his tummy, begging Sherlock to extend his caresses to his undercarriage.

Which he did.

Because of course he did.

Y/N's new concern was getting Basil to return to his rightful owners at the end of the week. Sherlock and the six-year-old dog will clearly be inseparable within an hour, let alone five days.

"Like him, then?" Y/N asked, sitting down to join the two now firm friends at the fire.

Sherlock gave her a grin, still ruffling the luxurious mane of fur at Basil's neck. "Yes. Thank you for saying we'd look after him."

Joining in with the petting (Basil's eyes closed as he soaked up the attention), Y/N settled herself at Sherlock's side. They'd never had an animal in 221B---at least not while Y/N had been living there, and yet it didn't feel strange. Nothing was out of place, if anything, everything seemed to have slipped satisfyingly and easily into place. There was a quietly euphoric and boyish joy emanating from Sherlock, so close she could smell his cologne, his dark fringe falling in his face as he sought out the places Basil liked to be petted the most. This joy was selcouth, unseen by Y/N before. Apart from twice; when he'd ground an entire case to a halt just so he could ask a man if he could befriend his alsatian (he and the alsatian are still in touch to this day) and that time Y/N had bought him a jar of Nutella (which she never did again because he consumed the whole thing in two days). 

It was no secret (to Y/N at least) that Sherlock Holmes liked dogs. And chocolate. And, now that she thought about it, cats and mince pies and---loads of things she hadn't expected. The cold, calculating persona he wore during cases (for clients, she now assumed) was so different from the man now doting on a retriever in her living room, and it made her wonder what other parts of his personality he kept hidden away. And why he kept them hidden in the first place. Why does he act as if affection disgusts him, even though he kisses Mrs Hudson on the cheek every time he greets her? Put crime-solving on hold to say hello to a dog or a cat or even to follow a rare butterfly he'd spotted? Ask everyone, regardless of status, to call him by his first name, treating them kindly until given a reason to do otherwise?

"Shall we have dinner and then walk him? Or do you want to go while it's still light?" Y/N asked after several minutes of admiring...her new temporary pet? Or her friend? She didn't know, really. Maybe both, and the interactions that went on between them. People that struggle with humans tend to have a way with animals and Sherlock, it turns out, is living proof of this.

He turned to give her a hopeful, interested look. "You're coming too? I thought you said I had to walk him?"

"I did, but now I think it might be nice to go as well. If you want me to."

He smiled widely. "Yeah, I want you to. Can we eat first?"

...

Y/N and Sherlock often take constitutionals around London; out of boredom, for health reasons, or just as something to do. They'd talk about nothing, really, and yet somehow all those nothings meant more than so many somethings.