Tuesday, 9 Feb 2010
The sound had John snatching at the blankets, heart pounding in surprise, disorientation pulling him back across ten months and thirty-seven hundred miles before he saw the glowing phone on the small nightstand. His worry changed but didn’t ebb as he snatched at the phone. It was... God, not quite five in the morning — London would be dark for another three hours yet. The best he could hope for was that Harry would be drunk. The worst would be unthinkable.
What is a chibi? -SH
He stared at the text, wondering if this was some horrible autocorrect error. Chibi. He hadn’t slept for more than an hour, so he was still fuzzy. No actual word came to mind.
No idea. Go back to sleep. -John
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the pillow, phone still in his hand. Sure enough, it buzzed only seconds later.
There are almost 51.000.000 results on a google search, John. Help me. -SH
It’s almost 5 am. Let me sleep. -J
How can something so grossly disfigured be considered cute enough to be worth £20.000? -SH
He stared at the text, trying to match some meaning to it, and finally threw off the blankets. “He’s insane,” John muttered, pulling on his warmest dressing gown. He rubbed at his forehead and typed a response.
Start from the beginning and tell me everything before I rip the battery out of my phone and go back to sleep.
He didn’t bother signing it, nor did he go back to bed. Instead, he crossed the tiny room slowly, glancing at the empty cartons he’d picked up at the corner market. His alarm was set for ten, and he fully intended to be awake enough at that hour to start packing, though it wouldn’t take long.
He pushed open the lid of his laptop and waited for it to boot.
Necklace, 24k gold, box chain. Pendant shaped like a roundish blob described as a chibi fox or cat, round-cut emerald eyes, total 1/2 ct., custom-made by a student of Cartier’s studio. Eighth birthday gift for the daughter of an MP. -SH
Not until John got to the part about it being a gift for an MP’s daughter did he actually wake up enough to care.
No, scratch that. He still didn’t care, but his curiosity was aroused.
He opened a browser and went to google.
Five somewhat terrible minutes later, he had three texts from Sherlock, which he read before typing a response of his own.
The sideboard is piled with presents, all untouched, except for the box that had this THING in it. -SH
There’s also a puppy. -SH
They say it’s a corgi, from the Queen’s breeder. -SH
I cannot for the life of me believe that anything that looks like that could be worth £20.000. Do they have a receipt? Or a therapist? Who would do that to a child? -John
He closed the laptop, wondering how he could explain this to his therapist, and made his way back to bed, dropping his dressing gown over the blanket before he climbed underneath.
Will contact with results later. -SH
John stared at his phone and finally turned it off completely. He rolled over and closed his eyes, wondering if he’d even remember this in the morning. God, he hoped not.
Thankfully, the mystery of the green-eyed chibi entirely slipped John’s mind through all the time it took him to pack his meager belongings. He’d engaged the services of a small moving company to take them to his new flat, which meant he was able to see them off and get a taxi to work.
Only then did he remember to turn his phone back on, and was promptly besieged by a flurry of messages.
At breeder’s. Definitely does NOT have the Queen’s approval. -SH
Breeder acting suspicious. May be normal behavior for a woman who lives alone with this many dogs. -SH
Breeder brought four puppies to the MP’s house to show, with bitch and dog used to breed litter. Puppies too small. Bitch slightly small. Dog most likely. -SH
Have dognapped dog for x-rays. Trained professional should read them. Meet me at Barts. -SH
John, I won’t do the stitches myself. -SH
Got pathologist to read x-rays. Pendant confirmed, swallowed by dog. Breeder arrested. Dog in surgery. -SH
“Dear God,” John groaned, and quickly typed out a text to Sherlock, noting that the last text had been an hour ago.
Just woke up and finished packing. What happened? Why did you need stitches? Were you bit?
Corgi resisted arrest, attacked cuff, got ankle. Only needed three stitches. -SH
Did your physician check the dog’s vaccination records?
Dog’s vaccinations were in order. -SH
John let out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes for a moment, wondering if Sherlock was always like this. Probably, he decided.
Keep the wound clean and elevated. That means no running around, understand?
Are you angry? -SH
No, but you shouldn’t have put yourself in a position to get bit in the first place. If you were mine, I wouldn’t let you go picking fights with strange dogs and their breeders, especially over something so hideous. -John
The dog started it, not me. -SH