Note: this isn't a hound AU I just liked the picture 😅 aight READ NOW MY SHERLOLLY LOVING CHILDREN
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The sun was just starting to set, the sky fading to a deep indigo and stars beginning to poke out from behind darkening clouds. Sherlock Holmes walked with his head down. The wind left his coat billowing behind him and Sherlock's wild hair was whipped around in the harsh breeze.
He passed dark alleyways, the streetlights beginning to flicker on and brightening the cobblestone streets in which he walked. Sherlock was glowering at nothing in particular, anger narrowing his eyes.
A particularly frustrating case had left him exceedingly irritated and discouraged, causing him to go on an unwelcomed ramble towards a certain... partner of his. Muttering to himself Sherlock shoved his hands in his coat pockets, grumbling about the case as his mind raced with possibilities.
He was passing a flickering streetlight when he heard it. A whine. At first Sherlock had thought it was a human, though that possibility was ruled out almost immediately. He looked around with narrowed eyes, squinting into a dark alleyway. The flickering streetlight did little to help him, though Sherlock could just make out the outline of a shape against against the blanketing darkness.
Sherlock froze, listening for the sound again. It came once more, cutting through the nighttime quiet like a knife. The whine, however, was gone as soon as it had come, making Sherlock irritated. A bird, perhaps?
He walked cautiously towards the dark alleyway, rapidly blinking in attempt to adjust to the darkness. Sherlock let out a small ooph when he accidentally kicked something. The whine sounded out again and Sherlock exhaled sharply when he realized the sound was coming from directly in front of him.
Sherlock bent down, his hands rummaging through the darkness. His breath trailed out in large white plumes as he felt a damp cardboard box. Slowly Sherlock reached inside, though he almost immediately pulled his hands back out when he felt something brush his skin.
Tentatively Sherlock reached back down, feeling for the creature once more. Fur, ears, a paw. It was a dog. Sherlock sighed in relief and pulled the wriggling dog out of the box. It whined but made no attempt to escape Sherlock's grasp.
The wind almost caught Sherlock by surprise with its excessive force but he caught himself, pressing the dog tightly to his chest as he stumbled to a working streetlight to get a better look at it.
Sherlock blinked as he held up the dog. It was young, male, still in its puppy stages, maybe three, four months old at the most. It had patchy silvery grey and white fur as well as dark blue eyes. Without a doubt a stray, left for someone to pick it up or to fend for itself. The puppy wriggled in Sherlock's grasp and he realized with a blink it was a pitbull. Immediately comments from the media rushed into his mind retaining to the breed.
Monster. Killer. Vicious. Terror.
Sherlock let out a small huff, chasing the thoughts out of his mind. What the hell did the media know?
The puppy whined and twisted, nibbling on his knuckle. Sherlock let out a small chuckle and pressed the shivering dog tightly onto his chest, tucking it into his coat.
"Some killer you are," he mumbled. The dog immediately buried itself into his warmth and Sherlock couldn't help but smile. "Let's get you somewhere warm."
As they walked to 221B Sherlock considered how much trouble he would be in when he got home. Mrs. Hudson would certainly not be pleased, especially at the concept of a pitbull in her flat. No doubt brainwashed by the media, Sherlock thought with a sigh.
He wasn't quite sure, however, how his "girlfriend" would react. Quotes only because that was the title his partner insisted on, though Sherlock thought it sounded childish. Molly Hooper, Sherlock was quite sure, was a cat person and was undoubtedly very mad at him.
See, it was her Sherlock had quite stupidly chosen to lash out on.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered to himself. The puppy let out a small whine and Sherlock realized with a blink he was pressing it tightly to himself. "Sorry," he grumbled, loosening his grip on the creature.
It wasn't long before they reached 221B, Sherlock heaving a sigh of relief at the immediate warmth of the place. The puppy wriggled underneath the coat, sticking it's head out and sniffing around at the new place.
Sherlock smiled at it until a voice rang out, "Sherlock is that you?"
Sherlock froze, staring at the puppy, "uh, yes, Mrs. Hudson. It's me," he craned his neck down and brought the puppy closer to his face, "we're going to keep you secret for a bit longer, deal? Good. Now be quiet."
The puppy then whimpered rather loudly. Sherlock blinked and tilted his head back, covering the puppy with his jacket once more.
"What the hell was that I literally just said to be quiet!" Sherlock whispered fiercely. The puppy chewed his scarf in return.
"Sherlock? What was that?" Mrs. Hudson's voice rang from the flat and Sherlock froze, his breath catching in his throat.
"Uh. The door... is... squeaky..." the lie came out chunky and awkward and Sherlock internally cursed himself.
"Is it already? I swear I fixed its squeaking earlier..." Mrs. Hudson's voice trailed off and Sherlock took the opportunity, sprinting up the stairs to his flat.
When he was sure the coast was clear Sherlock unveiled the puppy from his coat, resting it on the carpet and laying on his stomach eye level to the dog.
"Hullo. What do they call you?" The puppy stumbled on the floor and Sherlock raised a hand out to steady it. The dog huffed and Sherlock scratched behind it's ear with his finger.
"Did you know," Sherlock began, "that the world hates you for absolutely no reason except for something you can't control and hardly affects your personality?" The dog began chewing on Sherlock's finger. He shrugged.
"You're like me. People hate me for my fast working brain." He paused to consider this, tilting his head up, "and my loud mouth. We're both... misunderstood."
Sherlock watched the dog as it nibbled his finger tip, holding down his wrist with its paw, "to be quite honest I think you have a lovely personality. But your teeth are like needles."
Sherlock tugged his hand from the puppy and rolled on his back, staring at the ceiling, "you know you shouldn't be away from your mother at this age. What were you doing all alone out there? I suppose I'll have to feed you formula, is that right?"
In response the dog had moved on to tugging at his wind blown curls. "You like to give me pain, don't you?" Sherlock picked up the dog and held it up over his face, "sadist. I should call you Lucifer."
The puppy whined and writhed out of Sherlock's grasp, landing softly on his chest and stumbling around. Sherlock curiously watched the puppy until he suddenly heard the door downstairs open and slam shut. Molly was home.
"Brace yourself," Sherlock whispered to the dog, picking it up and sticking it back in his coat, "winter is coming."
He counted the steps as they marched up the stairs, then winced as Molly came into view and dropped her bag on the table.
"Hello, Molly," Sherlock greeted. She didn't make eye contact with him, instead making her way to fridge.
"Sherlock," she replied briskly. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, assessing the situation. She was pissed. The dog squirmed in his jacket and Sherlock squeezed it tightly.
He watched as Molly opened the fridge, though freezing instantly when she came face to face with a severed head. She stood blinking at it for a while before slowly closing the refrigerator door, still frozen.
Sherlock cleared his throat, chuckling nervously, "I, uh, I forgot... that was there." Molly didn't say anything, instead sighing and tugging her hair out of her ponytail. It cascaded down her back in soft brown waves and Sherlock couldn't help blurting out, "you look very pretty."
Her eyes flicked past her shoulder in an icy glare and Sherlock flinched, "I got you something."
Molly sighed and turned around, leaning on the refrigerator door with her arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised expectantly. Sherlock slowly unveiled the puppy. Molly let out a small gasp and rushed over to it.
"What is this? Sherlock!" She cried as Sherlock set the puppy down. It whimpered slightly and waddled over to Molly, its low-riding, stocky, pitbull build proving to be an obstacle.
"I found him all alone in a cardboard box. It's the middle of winter so I brought him home," Sherlock replied. Molly picked up the puppy and examined it closely. The dog licked her nose and Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "well he likes you, he's been biting me all night."
A smile crept on Molly's face, "oh Sherlock, he's absolutely adorable!" Now Molly's grin reflected on Sherlock. When Molly looked up however, his smile was quickly gone, turned into a pouty look.
"Can we keep him?" Sherlock begged. Molly raised an eyebrow, looking between Sherlock and the dog.
"We aren't aloud to have pets in here Sherlock, you know that," Molly said carefully, though Sherlock could tell there was reluctance in her eyes.
"I'll do everything," Sherlock cried, "he'll be my responsibility! Mrs. Hudson won't even know he's here."
Molly eyed him carefully, though smiled once her gaze found the wriggling puppy, "well he's very cute," she said, putting it down. The puppy stumbled around the flat, Molly and Sherlock watching him carefully. "What are you naming him?"
Without taking his eyes off the puppy Sherlock replied, "Lucifer. Or Satan."
Molly blinked slowly at him, "what... why? Sherlock you don't name your dog after the devil."
Sherlock shrugged, raising an eyebrow, "well would you prefer Bitey?"
Molly rolled her eyes, "what I'm saying is that it certainly won't help against the stereotype the public has of him."
Sherlock shrugged, "he's a good boy, we know that. Besides, those rumors are mostly in America and what the hell does America know?"
"McDonald's," Molly grumbled under breath, "fine. But I'm calling him Luc for short."
Sherlock opened his mouth to protest then remembered he could awaken the angry spirit of Molly at any given moment with the wrong words, "Luc is fine," he grinned.
Molly gave him a prompt nod and Sherlock cleared his throat, "uh, Molly. I do believe I owe you an apology," Molly raised an eyebrow as Sherlock continued, "I'm sorry about earlier."
Molly opened her mouth to speak but closed it when she spotted the puppy beginning to chew on the leg of Sherlock's arm chair. She smiled softly and sighed, "it's alright, Sherlock. I forgive you."
Sherlock grinned giddily, crawling over to Molly and kissing her softly. Molly rolled her eyes but kissed him back. Lucifer stumbled over and barked from his place under Sherlock, sitting down and looking at them expectantly.
Sherlock and Molly broke away and looked at the dog, smiling, "welcome to the family, Lucifer," Sherlock said with a grin.