Sherlock X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

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

Laura and her new husband, Ted, dropped Basil off, quite literally; so eager to get to the airport that they barely slowed the car down to a complete stop. Ted leapt out of the passenger side with the dog's lead, bed, bowl, and a few toys bundled in his arms, pushed them into Y/N's, then dived back into the car, both occupants screaming thank yous from the rolled-down window. Y/N would have waved at them but the pile of belongings she clutched was like a stack of cards; she didn't dare free one hand in case it all came crashing to the floor.

She hadn't gotten a good look at Basil when he'd been hurried out of the Volvo he'd no doubt been enjoying a pleasant nap in the back of. He'd just been a blur of fur, darkened with age to a deep marmalade. Y/N looked down at him now, sitting patiently by her feet, wide mouth pulled back in a doggy grin, tongue hanging out even though it was less than warm. He looked just as cuddly as the last time she'd seen him and Y/N wanted to take his big dopey face in both her hands as soon as possible, so turned to go inside, and nearly bumped into Sherlock.

"When'd you get there?" She asked, but he wasn't paying the least bit of attention.

"Can I pet him?" He asked like a child seeking permission to unwrap a Christmas present.

Y/N couldn't help her lips tugging up into a smile at his expression. And the fact that he'd come outside in a dressing gown and pyjamas just to see a dog. "Yeah, he won't bite or anything, if that's what you mean." She watched with amusement as Sherlock stepped---with more respect than she'd ever seen him give a human being besides maybe herself and Mrs Hudson---up to Basil, who watched him curiously with his large, dark eyes.

Sherlock crouched down in front of him and held out a hand for him to sniff; the dog equivalent of introducing yourself. Basil roved his moist nose over Sherlock's pale, large hand casually several times then licked his fingertips, probably tasting remnants of mince pie. Sherlock's face split into a grin and he started petting Basil's coat, (much to Basil's obvious delight), submerging his hands into his fur when he got an encouraging tail wag in response.

If Y/N's arms were not starting to ache, and if a brittle little snowflake hadn't just flown straight into her left eye, she would have been happy to stand there and watch her best human friend and her best animal friend forever. It was like they were communicating via telepathy, or something, Basil's eyes now closed in what could only be described at absolute bliss as Sherlock massaged the bases of his ears, supporting the heavy weight of the dog's head with his palms. Y/N didn't want to interrupt them, to break this show of uncharacteristic (or maybe it was very characteristic but she'd never encountered anyone worthy of it) gentleness on Sherlock's behalf, but now she really was worried she'd drop something. 

"Can you help me carry something upstairs, please?"

"Oh, of course," Sherlock said apologetically, and Y/N held out some of her burden so he could alleviate her of it. But he didn't, instead, much to Y/N's shock, he scooped Basil---all thirty-two kilograms of retriever---up in his arms and stood to his full height, cradling the dog to his chest like an oversized, fluffy baby. He started carrying him inside, Basil beaming back at Y/N, thoroughly enjoying the ride.

"I didn't mean carry the dog!" Y/N cried at him, following behind and nudging the door closed with her foot. She had to do it with her foot because she had no hands free thanks to her less than helpful flatmate.

Sherlock ascended the stairs effortlessly, Basil's shaggy tail beating a happy rhythm into his waist and brushing the wall every now and again. "You should have been more specific."

...