Gladstone was not amused.
Generally, she was pretty easy going, because really, she had to be to deal with her annoying human. Honestly, the man did dangerous stunts for a living, and Gladstone just had to deal with that. Needless to say, she wasn't pleased with it, but she tolerated it, as long as he was safe every time before It happened.
And thanks to her, he usually was.
Now John, that man was much more sensible. From what Gladstone came to understand, he was a doctor, which was like a vet, but for people. John was much more sensible, not rushing headfirst into danger like a certain someone else Gladstone knew, instead liking to think things over, and perhaps even come up with a plan before just... doing whatever it was Sherlock tended to do, dragging Gladstone on her leash behind him.
Gladstone had been trained to wear her vest, and yet Sherlock, being the strange man that he was, chose not to have her wear it. She listened to him explain it to John (after he found out of course, but that was an entirely different story) and believed it had something to do with a disguise.
Or perhaps not, since she was a little distracted at the time with It oncoming.
But she wasn't wearing it today, which probably worked in their favour, since the whole kidnapping thing.
But that's not even the reason she was unamused. Admittedly, it was a contributing factor, but the main reason was still to come.
But back to the kidnapping.
It had just finished, and Sherlock was napping in his bed, one hand clutching at Gladstone's fur, when she heard the sound. Footsteps, coming up the stairs.
Now, this was Mrs Hudson day, when the lovely old lady came over to chat with John about various things, but Gladstone knew what her footsteps sounded like on the stairs, sort of hesitant, like she wasn't sure what she would find, and those definitely weren't hers. They were much heavier, and even... oh, two sets. What two people would be coming to visit John? Or Sherlock.
Gladstone supposed they could be clients, but Sherlock had moaned only that morning about nothing being on the website.
Gladstone heard John speaking in the kitchen, greeting Mrs Hudson. No, no, John, it's not her. There was a thump, and Gladstone could tell that something had gone very, very wrong.
Sherlock awoke, not entirely, but must have heard the thump that was likely John hitting the ground, and something in his head had noticed.
He threw himself out of bed, calling for his friend. "John?"
But it was too soon after It happened, and he slumped back to the floor. It looked like it hurt.
Gladstone sighed at him. Didn't he know this was only going to draw attention to him?
Shortly after the feet approached Sherlock's door and entered.
Gladstone stood between Sherlock and the man, growling at the intruder. He smelled wrong and was going to do something to Sherlock.
The man growled back at her. What nerve.
The other man was behind him.
"Is he dead?" one said finally. "Looks like crap."
The other made a grunting noise. "I dunno."
The first one shuffled closer to Sherlock and kicked him gently in the side. Gladstone barked at him. How dare he?
He only sneered at her as the first one noted "He's still breathing." Well, of course he is. He's not dead stupid, Gladstone noted bitterly.
The other one grunted. "Alright. Just throw him in as is. And bring the bloody dog. All we need is for it to make a ridiculous amount of noise cause his owner's gone."
If Gladstone could have spoken, she would have replied with an unbelievable amount of sass. Who did these men think they were?
Fine, if they wanted to take her, let them. They'd be the ones suffering in the end, she would make sure of that.