paradisa | 033 || dictated;

[Sherlock has been keeping to himself. Experiments to run, theories to test, thoughts to be had. He knows how to keep himself busy when it's necessary.

Unfortunately, his new hermit lifestyle doesn't agree well with the high-energy, high-maintenance puppy that's been passed down to him. Walking Gladstone around the flat doesn't seem to be cutting it, and he has no concept of what to do to make it better.

So predictably, when the journal opens, it does so to absolute chaos.

It must have fallen or been thrown, because it catches the tail-end of a BANG. There's a far off groan of frustration, followed by the much-closer snuffling of a dog that's found something new to investigate.]

Stop it. Stop-- [There's a series of small yips as Sherlock stoops to pick the journal up off the floor...

... Followed by an awkward pause while he debates between slamming it shut for the sake of his dignity, and asking for the help he clearly needs.

Well, the castle's heard the worst part already, and he is desperate. He clears his throat.]

My dog [the words sound stilted even as they come out of his mouth, but he presses on like what he's about to say isn't patently ridiculous] has been... energetic, lately. Too much. Walking isn't enough, apparently, and since I'm not about to let him loose through the hallways, I need someone with a dog approximately the same size and age to give him something to do.

Bloodhound, three months. Let me know.

[And the journal shuts, dignity only mostly damaged.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Then be on the castle steps in ten minutes.

[ She closes the journal to head down. ]

[When she gets there, there's the tall man in the coat again, except this time he has a very small companion.

Gladstone is off his leash (which Sherlock has twisted around his forearm), but doesn't seem interested in running off. Instead, he keeps his barking and jumping and running within a five-foot radius of Sherlock, occasionally pawing at his leg to demand attention.

He has to stoop to give it, and it's probably close to the most awkward he's ever felt.]

[ She walks up to them, standing still to let Gladstone smell her. ]

What's his name?

[He does, enthusiastically. And once he's done with that, he nudges her with his nose for attention.

Sherlock straightens up.]

Gladstone.

When will you want him back?

[He frowns. The defensiveness is rising up again.]

How long can it possibly take?

[ ...are you stupid. ]

You're the one complaining about him. [ You tell her how long it'll take to get over your snit.

She bends down to pick up the puppy. ] Give me a time and I'll have him back.

[Adventure!! Gladstone is excite!! He squirms in her arms, but not in any attempt to get away.]

I'm not looking for a reprieve [okay, he is, but] I'm looking for a solution. It's not any use to me if you return him as hyperactive as he is now.

He won't be. I'll be back in an hour.

[ Going to the stairs! Yes, Gladstone, we're going to have a magnificent adventure. You get stuff to chew on and bird to harass and Bit to chase and if Nymeria gets back from hunting a direwolf to get ~~terrified~~ adopted by. ]

[Sherlock lets her go. (Even if she doesn't come back, it wouldn't be hard to find her, and he could use the break.)

Gladstone whines and squirms more when he notices Sherlock isn't following, but he quiets down eventually. After all, adventure.]

[ She returns an hour later, a sleeping Gladstone in her arms. She hugs the puppy to her chest. ]

[Sherlock is there. Whether he waited the whole time or left and came back, it's hard to say.

He doesn't say anything. He's not about to jeopardize what he asked for in the first place. He holds his hands out to take Gladstone back.]