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Summary: How exactly did Sherlock come to own a dog? He doesn't even like dogs. He's much more of a cat person. Or so he says.

Of Dogs and Men

Mrs. Holmes found herself in yet another staring match with the younger of her two sons.

"We can sit here all day if you'd like, Sherlock. But you, young man, will eat your vegetables," she insisted, her gaze never wavering. The young Holmes only crossed his arms over his chest and pouted in protest. She had to fight the urge to smile at her son's antics as he had always aspired to look older than his age yet his current expression gave him the appearance of someone even younger than his eight years of age. She realised, of course, that it was only a matter of time until she would ultimately concede but she had to play the game for a little longer as in not to absolutely destroy her image of a somewhat strict parent.

She sighed as she heard the door bell ringing; her husband most probably forgot to take his keys when he left for work this morning once again. Anyhow it meant that the game was over. As she got up to answer the door, Sherlock managed to slip away from the dining room and ran upstairs to his room. At least this meant that Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were in for a bit of quiet for once as the youngest Holmes would try to prevent the kind of racket that he usually graced their household with in order not attract his mother's attention soon enough for her to try to force him to finish his vegetables once again.

"Hello, dear. Tell me when are you going to remember not to leave your keys at home?" she greeted her husband with a kiss and an exasperated sigh.

Mr. Holmes just smiled and as he walked into the kitchen he remarked: "Sherlock kicking up a fuss about food again?"

"Unsurprisingly," she laughed. "But I do worry about him. He's been pretty lonely since Mikey left for school."

"I wouldn't worry too much about him, dear, some kids just prefer to stay on their own," Mr. Holmes mused. "But if you are so worried, how about we get him a pet? A dog maybe?"

"You must be joking. It's truth that he's interested in animals. But usually that's when they're already dead and he gets to dissect them."

"Well, yes, that does sound like something we probably ought worry about," Mr. Holmes said putting emphasis on the word ought.

However Mrs. Holmes waved him off. "They're always already dead before he dissects them. He's just a curious smart boy who likes to figure things out on his own. Anyway, it's probably about time we got ready, don't you think?"

"Ah, it's Benjamin Smith's birthday party today. It totally slipped my mind, I'm ever so forgetful. I expect there's no way that Lock's already dressed, is there? Better make sure that he does get ready on time," there was a twinkle of amusement in Mr. Holmes eyes as he said this and went up the stairs after his younger son.

As the Holmes family got into the car and Mrs. Holmes drove them to their friends' house, Mr. Holmes turned in the passenger seat so that he could speak with Sherlock directly.

"If you manage it the whole night without offending anyone with one of your little deductions, there might be some new chemistry equipment in it for you."

Sherlock shook his head, apparently deducing something about his father: "You don't believe that I can actually make it," he finally said.

"Well then, prove your father wrong, Lock," his mother jumped into the conversation.

"I will, " Sherlock answered, he could never resist one of these bets with his parents. He pouted as he pondered the fact that it had been a while since he managed to actually win one. But there were other ways for him to get one over his parents.

"And I most definitely don't miss Mycroft, he's a pretentious git anyway ("Sherlock!" both his parents admonished him.) "Oh and I'm much more of a cat person anyway," he added a grin of triumph that his parents could clearly see in the rear-view mirror plastered over his face.

Mrs. Holmes was not surprised in the least when she didn't find Sherlock amongst the other children who seemed to be deeply engrossed in some game or another. Her son was very much the adventurer and explorer who could barely manage to stay in one place for a few minutes. In truth she didn't believe for one bit that he was actually a loner. Asides from spending most of his time growing up with Mycroft's constant presence, she also remembered a time when he actually had a very good friend. Lisa, a rather smart girl from next door, might have been two years older than Sherlock, but the two of them shared the same kind of passion for discovery and mischief in equal parts. It was a shame that the girl's family had to move back to Germany to care for her elderly sick grandmother.

She only half listened to the baby-sitters muttered apology. The teenage girl seemed to be rather befuddled by how the youngest Holmes had managed to escape her grasp. Mrs. Holmes assured her that her youngster had managed to outsmart far more experienced minds in the past, so she best not worry about it too much. Sherlock might be many things, but he wasn't irresponsible enough to strain too far away and was therefore most likely safe.

Mrs. Holmes was soon rejoined by Mr. Holmes but before they could start searching for their son, there was a ruckus in the room next door. They exchanged a knowing look; there was no way that one of the perpetrators wasn't one Sherlock Holmes. One of the Smiths' neighbours, an angry looking elderly man with greasy black hair walked to them, Sherlock in tow.

"I'm told this is your kid?" he snapped at the couple in a heavy American accent.

The Holmes' parents did a quick check of their son, who once again seemed to have escaped from his adventures with all his limbs unscathed albeit he was covered in mud from head to toe.

"You alright, Lock?" Mr. Holmes wanted to make absolutely sure that nothing had happened to him. Sherlock gave him a curt nod, the one that said that he wasn't a toddler anymore and his parents needn't worry that much about him.

That satisfied Mr. and Mrs. Holmes and they proceeded to figure out what exactly it was that Sherlock had been up to and how much trouble he had caused. Accustomed to Sherlock's antics by now, they did so rather calmly. This didn't seem to please the man one bit.

"Parents these days. You should be much stricter with them kids," the man snapped once more.

"You mean they should beat me," Sherlock spoke up and found himself in a staring match with the elderly man.

The neighbours' face reddened and his tone got even angrier: "Such nerve, young man. I would never..."

Mr. Holmes shot his son a warning look, hoping that he might reconsider his brashness just this once.

Mrs. Holmes however encouraged Sherlock to continue. Their visits to parties' would often end up with Sherlock offending one person or another with his deductions. However most of the time the boy didn't seem to realise how improper they were and how they could end up hurting people. It was all a game to him, he was just amusing himself. This was different however. The young Holmes was visibly agitated, angry even, by this deduction. Mrs. Holmes was convinced that this was a deduction that needed to be told out loud.

"You mean you wouldn't beat me up, just like you don't beat up that dog of yours...just because your wife finally got the nerve to leave you when her baby was born, " Sherlock rattled out.

The man's face got even redder if that were possible: "I...I...," he couldn't find any words, so he just turned on his feet and left the three Holmes' with no more comments.

It was a few days later that Mr. Holmes seemed to make some kind of secret trip. Mrs. Holmes could see the wheels in Sherlock's mind turning as he unsuccessfully tired his brain by trying to put the puzzle together.

Curiosity got the better of him as he ran out of the house when he heard the car approaching. Mrs. Holmes followed him a bit less enthusiastically. Mr. Holmes got out of the car and greeted his son.

"Well, no new chemistry set, I'm afraid. You did lose the bet after all," Mr. Holmes smiled mischievously. "But I do have a present for you, I did visit a certain someone with Rebecca, you know the girl who works for the animal rescue on the next street?" he continued as he opened the passenger door of his car and let out the big dog out of the car.

Sherlock approached the dog and petted him gingerly.

"Hello, Redbeard," Sherlock greeted the dog and whispered: "You're safe now, good boy."

As Mrs. Holmes caught the barely audible whisper, she made two deductions of her own. Firstly, Sherlock wasn't quite as tired of pirates as he had insisted all of last year and secondly, he might secretly be more of a dog's person than he would ever let on.