Title: The New Arrival
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rating: G
Length: 732
Summary: "We need a dog," Victor Trevor announced suddenly.
A/N: Based on the headcanon of some of my Twitter friends regarding Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor living at 221B Baker Street, and written for them.
Also written to fulfil the current challenge at fffc

“We need a dog!”  Victor Trevor suddenly announced.

“What?”  Sherlock Holmes looked across from the table, where he was carefully comparing the results from his latest experiment.

“You like dogs, and I like dogs.  Therefore we need a dog.”

“We are living in a flat in the centre of London.”

“Lots of people have dogs around here.”

“But Mrs Hudson …”

“Mrs Hudson has no objection.  She said something about a dog being less trouble than one of her tenants.”

“Hmph!  But what about when we’re both out?  A dog will need looking after.  It’s not like a cat which you could just put out of the window.”

“You couldn’t put a cat out of this window, we’re two floors up.”

“Well, you know what I mean.”

“Mrs Turner’s grandson would be happy to help out and supplement his pocket money.”

“I still don’t think …”

Sherlock got no further, because at that moment there was a loud knock on the front door and Victor leapt up and rushed downstairs.

Sherlock did his best to ignore the sounds which indicated activity below.  He had more important matters to concentrate on than Mrs Hudson saying, “Ooh, isn’t he lovely” and Victor’s footsteps as he returned upstairs accompanied by something which probably had four feet.

However, the importance of his experiment did not manage to stop Sherlock from glancing up as Victor entered 221B.  There was a click of a lead being detached from a collar and a black and white muddle of fur, legs, paws and waggy tail bounced across the floor towards Sherlock.

There was nothing else to do but bend down and pick up the squirming bundle.  Sherlock laughed as his face was enthusiastically washed.  After a few minutes Sherlock put the dog back down, whereupon it bounced back to Victor.

“I presume ‘We need a dog’ was shorthand for ‘We’re having a dog and it’s arriving in ten minutes’,” Sherlock said.

“Yes, more or less,” Victor agreed.

“But what about all the things a dog needs, bed, food and so on?  I didn’t hear any sounds of them being delivered.”

“You wouldn’t have.  Mrs Hudson has been storing them for me.”

“Just how long have you been planning this?”

“Well,” Victor paused and grinned at Sherlock, “I started about four months ago.  A friend of a friend introduced me to their border collie puppies.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.  Victor never spoke about the people he worked with, instead merely saying he was meeting a friend for a drink, if he was going to be late home.  And Sherlock never enquired, knowing even he would find it difficult to find out more.

“Anyway,” Victor continued, “I knew it wouldn’t be practical to have a small puppy, adorable as they were, so I arranged to have Wilbur cared for until he was ready for us to have him.  And here he is.”

“Wait a minute.  Wilbur?  You’ve called our dog Wilbur?”

“Yes, I couldn’t very well ask you which name you would like.  And he had to learn his name.”

“There are plenty of better names.”  Sherlock looked at the dog and tentatively called, “Wilbur!”

The puppy bounced back, looking delighted with himself.

“Oh, very well.”  Sherlock knelt down and patted Wilbur, who wagged his tail even more furiously.

“I’ll go down and collect his belongings,” Victor said.

A few minutes later Victor returned carrying a large box.  He looked at the puppy.  “What has he got in his mouth?”

“Oh, nothing important.  He wanted to play.”

“That is my slipper!”

“So it is.  I don’t know how he could have found it.”

“Because you gave it to him!”  Victor dumped the box on the floor.  “He has his own toys in here.”

Victor went to take his slipper.  Wilbur wagged his tail and ran to Sherlock, who made a half-hearted attempt to retrieve Victor’s footwear.

Victor gave up and started to unpack the box.

***

Before they went to bed, Victor settled Wilbur into his basket in the living room.  A couple of hours later they were woken by the sound of whining.

“He’ll be okay,” Victor said.  “He’s used to sleeping on his own.”

Victor then turned over and fell back asleep.  When he woke again it was to find Wilbur in the middle of the bed with Sherlock’s arm protectively around him, and both Wilbur and Sherlock fast asleep.