He Once Wanted to Be a Pirate

John looked at the crate and then back at up his sister. "I don't know how to thank you, Harry. I really…don't think I can." He cocked his head and looked at the crate. He was smiling.

Harry rolled her eyes. "It's not that big of a deal! You asked me to keep a look out for something like it. I found this one on the street. It's healthy. Clara's allergic to it, so I can't keep it. Besides, it seems to love you."

John sighed. "This is good. I just need to…let me make a call." He smiled slightly at his sister. His eyes were filled with wary friendliness.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson, maybe I should have asked sooner, but I just wanted to know..."

Two hours later…

Sherlock stared outside the living room window. He was bored. His phone chimed.

John: How would you feel about me subletting our flat to a friend of mine?

Sherlock: How would your friend feel about me?

The text came back almost instantly.

John: I have a feeling he would love you.

Sherlock moved his head back a little at that. "Interesting." He texted back.

Sherlock: Fine. Bring him up. I'll see if I can tolerate him.

John: Coming home now.

Sherlock smiled. John had moved back into the flat for a while, because Mary was actually visiting her real family. John had persuaded to her get back in contact with them. It had turned out well; they had accepted her again. She was in America visiting with them. She had taken little Alice with her to show off to the family. John had been nervous at first but Mycroft had promised to keep an eye on them for John. Pressure points and all…Mycroft had to be careful from now on.

Sherlock waited impatiently for John to get home.

The door opened, and John entered carrying what seemed to be a heavy crate. Sherlock looked around.

"Well? Where's our new tenant? Backed out already?"

John smiled and shook his head. "No, he's right here." He set the crate down, opened it up and lifted out a red furred, Irish Setter puppy.

John smiled and petted the puppy. "Harry found him, but her girlfriend's allergic to animal fur so…she asked me to find him a home or take him home myself."

Sherlock stared at the dog as if it were an alien. He was staring at it for so long that John started to get nervous.

"Name."

"Hmm? Oh! Harry hadn't given it a name yet. I haven't either." John felt slightly ashamed about that.

Sherlock snapped his gaze up at him and then back to the puppy, who was wriggling in John's hands. Sherlock took a breath and then froze.

"Mrs. Hudson?"

"Has already said that it's fine, as long as we pay for any damages it might cause."

"He's not an it, John. Don't refer to Barbarossa as an it." John blinked.

"Okay."

Sherlock knelt on the carpet. "Come here, Barbarossa. Come here, boy."

The puppy wriggled so much that John was forced to let him down. The newly named puppy ran, wobbly, to Sherlock. Sherlock immediately started petting him.

"Barbarossa…" He put his nose into the red fur, a single tear slid down his pale cheek. The puppy seemed to give him a reproachful look and licked the tear away. He yipped slightly and then put his cold nose against Sherlock's lips.

The puppy and the detective were worlds away from the small flat on Baker Street right then.

John smiled, his eyes tinged subdued happiness. He pulled out his phone.

John: You were right.

Harry had found that puppy at John's request, on Mycroft's advice. Mycroft had said that it would help Sherlock be less lonely and less bored.

Mycroft's reply was quick.

Mycroft: His name?

John: Barbarossa. Why's that?

Mycroft: Frederick Barbarossa's other name was Redbeard.

John nodded, still confused slightly as to the importance of that, but he let it rest. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he watched as Sherlock actually laughed and played with the puppy, teaching him new tricks and cuddling with him.

John also spied Sherlock wiping a few tears from his eyes, but that had to his imagination…