"So Touchingly Loyal" - Pet!John (Sherlock Holmes/John Watson MD)

John never let his eyes stray from his owner, the way he talked, clever and determined, was incredibly fascinating. He really was smart. “Amazing,” he exclaimed, realising Sherlock had been able to guess the password just by looking around the house. “It’s incredible!”

He looked at the picture, taking it into his hands and tenderly putting it back in the frame and in its place on the mantelpiece, just where Sherlock had found it. “They must have really loved him, he probably was a really good pet,” he whispered, staring sadly at the mantelpiece, thinking that none of his owners had loved him, and surely not enough to even /want/ a picture of him. He was a failure of a pet, he realised.

Sherlock frowned when John praised him, quite surprised. Everyone else normally thought he was annoying and big headed or told him to piss off, but not John. He was different. Special even. Loyal, dedicated, affable. What more could he wish for in a pet.

He smiled to himself whilst quickly scanning through the various documents and e-mails on the laptop. A couple of the messages between a woman named Laura and a man who called himself ‘M’ stood out as being rather suspicious. Sherlock took John by the arm and brought him closer. “Look at these….’received the will today. Carry on as planned’ and M replies ‘everything is in place’. Clearly the old man was murdered for his money,” Sherlock continued, thinking aloud. “And it wouldn’t surprise me if the dead girl was this Laura. Maybe she knew too much and this M person who obviously had some hand in the matter, couldn’t afford to keep her alive.”

He picked up the photograph again off the desk. “Yes look…they’re lovers see, the girl and the younger man. Look at the way they’re stood together, the girl’s hand on his waist, and the father clearly disapproves, that slight curl of the lips and his gaze to the right looking at the young man instead of the camera. What do you make of it John?”

He turned to his new pet and friend, genuinely interested in his opinion.

John was hardly able to follow Sherlock’s quick words, his leaps of logic were clear, but they were faster than he thought possible. He tried to make sense of the words, but he still frowned when Sherlock addressed him. “You think it was him?” he asked, looking at the guys’ face in the picture. “But why would he kill her too? I mean…this way he isn’t getting the inheritance…”

“You’re right John, you’re absolutely right,” Sherlock smiled, pleased that his new companion was able to keep up and even attempt to make his own deductions. He patted him on the back affectionately. “Not to mention the rather formal tones of the e-mails between them, not indicative of two people in love…no, the facts point to this ‘M’ being some kind of outside party, not her boyfriend and therefore not the man in the photograph who I suspect will either also be dead or on the run. The two of them planned the murder of the father with the help of this other man, but somehow something went wrong…something didn’t work out the way it should have done…and she had to be silenced.”

John leaned into the touch on his back, somehow needing the contact, especially now. Sherlock’s hand felt good and warm.

“Do you think they hired an assassin?” he asked, rather surprised. “It’s going to be quite hard to find him if he’s a professional…”

“Every assassin has a trademark John…something that gives them away. We just have to figure out what it is.” Sherlock closed the laptop and tucked it under his coat. “We’ll take this with us, get a better look at it back at Baker Street. Come along.” He strode purposely out of the room, brushing past Lestrade and calling back over his shoulder. “Get the bodies to St Barts, let me know when it’s done.” Then he headed outside and hailed a taxi.

John blinked confused as they quickly moved out of the house, he walked close to Sherlock, not really looking at Lestrade or any of the officers who were staring at him.

“I don’t think it’s legal for you to walk away with evidence,” he whispered in Sherlock’s ear, quite sure he knew that already., his lips curling in an amused grin.

Sherlock grinned at John out the corner of his mouth. “Quickly John, don’t look back,” he muttered as they climbed into the back of the taxi. As it set off he brought out the laptop from inside his coat chuckling to himself. “Every time…they really are incompetent aren’t they…” He turned to John and rubbed behind his ears. “You did really well. Thank you.”

John laughed softly as they clambered into the cab, his heart pounding quickly in his chest. “Thank you, Sherlock,” he exclaimed, leaning into the touch and then burying his face in the other’s neck, nuzzling the bare skin as his tail wagged happily.

He realised what he did a bit too late and he bowed his head. “I mean…thank you master Holmes.”

Sherlock chuckled and wrapped an arm around John, surprised that he was actually enjoying the physical contact and affection shown to him by his pet. It had been a long time since anyone ever hugged him or touched him in any way other than to shake hands.

“It’s quite all right,” he said quietly. “You may call me Sherlock.” He patted John’s knee and smiled.

John’s eyes widened when Sherlock not only laughed at his gaffe, but also asked him to call him by his first name. “Really?” he asked, his tail wagging a bit, hesitant. It seemed too good to be true. “It’s…disrespectful on my part…I am just a pet, after all,” he said, curling against Sherlock’s side, at least that was what he had been told. Of course, he didn’t believe that, but most humans did, and he didn’t want to upset his owner in any way.

Sherlock smiled and held John a little tighter against his body, feeling a strange fluttering in his chest he couldn’t explain. He’d only known his pet a few hours and he already meant so much to him. It was bizarre and quite scary.

“You’re not just a pet,” he whispered. “You’re…you’re special.” The taxi arrived back at Baker Street and Sherlock paid before getting out and holding the door open for John. “Here we are. Home.”

John’s heart started beating faster as Sherlock talked, the other’s scent and the way he pulled him closer was making his head spin.

His face burned red as Sherlock said he was special and he felt increasingly warm as he heard the word home. It was a dream come true.

“Yes, home…our home….I like it,” he whispered, licking his lips. “Sherlock,” he tried, smiling very softly.

Sherlock smiled back at John and grabbed hold of his hand, leading him gently to the front door. He unlocked it and they went inside. Sherlock closed it behind them and jogged upstairs to the flat, plonking the laptop down on the table and taking off his coat. “My apologies for keeping you up so late,” he muttered, “murders can happen at any time of the day or night. You must be tired.”

John squeezed Sherlock’s hand, moving towards their home and feeling extremely happy. It had always felt unlikely, but now, he thought that maybe he had found his place in the world. Sherlock felt like home, even though they had known each other for so little.

He looked at him with a grin. “I am tired, but it was good…I felt…useful. And it was exciting…I am glad you let me come with, I…well…thank you Sherlock,” he whispered, his tail moving slowly, but happily.

“I…like you a lot..I really hope you won’t send me back any time soon…” He admitted, bowing his head slightly.

Sherlock threw down his coat and flopped onto the sofa. “You were…” he resisted the temptation to say the word ‘brilliant’. He didn’t want his new pet to become big headed. “You were really good John. Very helpful. You can come on all my future cases.” He motioned for John to come and sit down next to him. “I’m not going to send you back, don’t worry.”

John beamed at Sherlock’s words. “That is wonderful!” he exclaimed, his tail wagging like crazy as he rushed closer, climbing on the sofa and pretty much sitting on Sherlock’s lap, curling against his neck. “Do you promise?” he asked, softly, vulnerable.

Sherlock laughed as John practically attacked him and pinned him to the sofa, he was secretly pleased and happy at the amount of affection John was showing him. No one had ever cared about him that much before. He felt wanted and loved, and his heart beat a little faster as John came close.

Sherlock wrapped his arm around him and began to stroke all down John’s body from the top of his head down to his tail. “I promise,” he replied sincerely. “You’re my pet now John, for life.”

John rubbed his face against Sherlock’s neck as he felt his hand moving down his back. It felt so good, his back arched instinctively.

“Good,” he whispered, his tail moving a bit slower, his heart beating faster. “Good because I do not want to leave,” he squeezed just a bit closer, even though it seemed impossible, “I want to say with you forever…”

Sherlock closed his eyes slowly, hardly daring to believe that someone would actually want to live with him, to spend time with him. One part of his mind was telling him it wouldn’t last, that John would start to hate him and run away like his last pets, but another part told him John was different, that maybe things might work out this time. He sighed slightly and kissed the top of John’s head, breathing in his scent deeply. “I like the way you smell,” he mumbled.

John was happy, truly so, Sherlock’s body against him was warm and welcoming, affectionate. John had never felt it like this, not even when those men had taken advantage of him.

Sherlock was different, Sherlock was special, and John could only hope it would last. He blushed when he heard the words, looking up and meeting his owner’s eyes, chills running up his spine as he found himself staring at Sherlock’s lips. For a moment time seemed to stop.

It was like a slap across his face to realise that he wanted to kiss Sherlock, his owner. He blushed even further, looking away. It was forbidden to want humans. It was not supposed to happen.

This was not good, he told himself, bowing his head. Not good at all.

Sherlock closed his eyes, struggling to understand the emotions he was experiencing. John’s body so close and warm, radiating through him, his heart rate increased, dry mouth. And these…thoughts. John was so…sweet, so incredible, so beautiful, adorable and…good God, Sherlock /fancied/ him, he quickly realised. He was attracted to his own pet! For a moment his body tensed and he was unsure what to do, panicking slightly.

John felt Sherlock’s body tense, and his heart started beating even faster, now scared that his owner would push him away. He buried his face in the other’s neck, not wanting to show his betraying feelings, but also squeezing closer, not wanting to give up on having him close.

“I am going to be a good pet, I promise,” he pleaded against his skin.

Sherlock kept his arm wrapped around John and kissed the top of his head again, then began to stroke his hair softly, leaning back slightly to twist John’s chin up with his hand and look into his eyes. “I know you will,” he smiled. “You’re a brilliant pet.” Sherlock moved his other hand around to touch John’s cheek gently, feeling an overwhelming desire pooling in his chest and stomach. He found John incredibly entrancing and he was trying to fight the urge to kiss him on the lips.

John’s tail wagged slightly as Sherlock complimented him, but it slowed to a stop under the heavy atmosphere charged with desire. John didn’t know what to think, he knew he wasn’t allowed to have feelings for humans, that he was likely to be rejected and scorned, but Sherlock was making him look at him, he was pinning him with those piercing grey eyes and he didn’t know what to do.

He liked him, there was no denying that, and his guts were twisting in want, but he knew that if he did something it would probably come back to bite him.

“Sherlock,” he whispered, his mind racing in search of a good enough excuse to /not/ pull away.

He was his owner though, he was supposed to follow him blindly, and God the way he was looking at him was making his blood run to his groin. It wasn’t the first time an owner had asked him to do something more, but never had John wanted it as well.

“I am yours…I’ll do whatever you want…” he whispered, his voice low and husky.