AN: I saw the movie, and I couldn't help myself. I had to write something. Hope you enjoy! :D


"Watson." Sherlock Holmes tilted his head as he looked down at the dog, "I believe I may have inadvertently killed our dog."

"My dog." Watson automatically corrected, his head buried in the newspaper. It took him a moment to register what exactly had been said, but it was clear to see when exactly the knowledge dawned on him when his head shot up abruptly, newspaper crinkling as he brought it down. "Wait, what did you just say?"

"I may have killed the dog." He replied with a wave of his hand, glancing down at the array of containers around him; his eyes taking in the labels with a seconds glance. It would have been easier, of course, had the landlady not suddenly decided to clean up his well-placed mess for once.

Taking a moment to contemplate the words Holmes had spoke, Watson delicately folded up the paper, placing it to his side. He then slowly rose to his feet as he evenly asked, "You may have or you did?"

"That is an excellent question." He leaned down, pressing his hands in between the folds of flesh that coated the dog, "And one that may require the assistance of time and patience." He looked up at Watson, "Well, no pulse as of yet, but never fear, I'm sure whatever the dog ate its effects will only be temporary; fleeting at best."

"Yes, in all my experience as a doctor, I have always found death to be such a short trip." Watson replied monotonously as he ventured forward towards the dog. His eyes widened minutely, and he could feel Holmes's own pick up on the detail, as he stared down at his canine companion.

It was not unusual to see such a sight; the dog had been subject to Holmes experiments many a time and had survived miraculously on each expedition into the realm of science, if Holmes version of random concoctions could be called science.

Yet this time, Holmes was not acting as if it were an experiment and judging from the dog's appearance, the events occurring were most unexpected.

With a furrowed brow, Watson asked, "Why does my dog-"

"Our dog."

"Why does the dog have blue teeth?"

Holmes let out a small scoff; simplicity coating his mirth response, "That would be because it ate something blue."

Watson rolled his eyes, "I can see that, but what exactly did he eat?"

Holmes looked up from his search, "Now Watson, if I knew the answer to that question then what sense would there be for me to search through all this?" Taking a small copper coloured bottle in his hand, he lifted it, sniffing its contents with an upturned nose, "I forgot I still had that stuff." He murmured to himself as he shook his head, trying to rid his addled brain of the effects, "Now Watson, this has most undoubtedly occurred because of your error in judgement."

"My error in judgement?" He asked incredulously, "My error?" Words caught in his throat for few moments as if the notion that this could possibly be his fault seemed so preposterous that even an attempt to think about it lead to momentary pauses in the synapses of his brain. His voice rose slightly in pitch as he finished his spluttering with, "How exactly is this my error in judgement when it is you whose half concocted experiments lead to my dog – yes my dog, Holmes – being killed every other day; when it is you who doesn't clean anything up; when it is you whose last experiment almost blew up the apartment. Again." Watson took a breath, as Holmes face lit up in recognition as he glanced at the contents of a bottle, his ears only exerting enough energy to actually listen to the words directed at him, "So tell me, how exactly this latest travesty in any way has come about due to an error in my judgement?"

"You forgot to feed our dog."

Watson's face fell into confusion, "What?"

"You forgot to feed him." Holmes repeated, stilling his movements to meet Watson's eye. "No doubt because you were exceedingly preoccupied by your loss of wealth; your money bag does not ring as as it did last night. Your clothes are unchanged so I presume you spent the night getting reacquainted with that gambling vice of yours. You lost, unsurprisingly seeing as I was not participating in the fight and judging from the blood around your cuff most likely from resulting fight you were forced into borne from an overestimation of a risk on your part – another lapse of judgement, is it not? You must have underestimated your opponent." Watson narrowed his eyes. It was extremely unnerving to be on the side of Holmes's uncanny observations, "How are the ribs, by the way? Bruised?"

Watson nodded, albeit reluctantly, "Yes, bruised and sore, if you must know."

"I must." He smirked, and fingers danced across labels and bottles as he poured and dabbled and sprinkled, and on occasion sniffed and tasted much to Watson's horror. "If you had remembered to feed the dog when you returned then this situation might have been avoided."

"How so?" Watson questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, if the dog had the food you were meant to supply then he would not have felt the need to wander, hungry and alone-"

"You could have feed him." He defended his position, "You were here!"

"Was I, Watson? Was I really?" Holmes replied, with a quirk on his lips. He continued, "As I was saying, he wandered, hungry and alone, desperate for some sort of nourishment then it would be only natural for him to wander to my delectable concoctions and ingest one of them, unaware of their effects, which promptly lead to a state of near death."

"Near death?"

"Near death, Watson!" He confirmed, and then with a delightfully smug grin he raised his newly finished creation, "And with this, I shall bring him from the brink of death back to life to bark another day."

Holmes propped open the dog's mouth, pouring the contents of the bowl in before he leaped to his feet, and sighed, once again bored, as the dog let out a pitiful bark, ultimately alive once more.

The End

AN: Review if you enjoyed...