Author's Note: My 250th fanfiction! Please enjoy!

Sherlock couldn't help but be fascinated. It had surprised him that John purchased a puppy with Mary heavily pregnant, and he, himself, busy with his job at the clinic and solving crime with Sherlock, but then again, John was always the type to want the whole domestic scene and that always included a dog. He warily petted the tiny thing in John's arms and marvelled at how small it was and how big it will eventually become. He also wondered briefly where on earth John got a purebred bulldog from but decided it was John and someone must have owed him a favour somewhere. His attention was dragged back to the puppy as it was, he cringed as the word involuntarily popped into his head, cute.

"He's great, isn't he?" John grinned. Sherlock said nothing as he was certain that his admiration and affection that he already shown the puppy spoke volumes as it is. "Mary and I were thinking, we're not always going to be the best owners, what with work, and the baby, so we sort of hoped you'd like to co-own him. Take him out with us for cases, occasionally take him home, that sort of thing. That way he would well cared for and loved all the time."

Sherlock momentarily scowled at that. He knew he shouldn't have trusted Mycroft with alcohol and the company of the delightful Dr and Mrs Watson! After all how else would John know that Sherlock loved dogs?! Someone spilled about Redbeard and he knew who it was! "I have no problem with that," Sherlock said coolly, and then, after another looked at the small, furry, creature, he blurted out a question. "Can I name him?" he asked.

John and Mary exchanged questioningly looks. "I don't see why not," Mary shrugged.

"Just as long as it's not after a murderer," John was quick to add.

"As if I would be so uncouth," Sherlock sniffed indignantly. He eyed the puppy thoughtfully and then remembered someone who he cared for, who happened to be sort of smart (if a bit useless), and for some reason resembled this puppy a bit. Perhaps it was the grey hair? Who knows, it didn't matter, he was going to name the puppy after him anyway! "Gladstone," Sherlock said happily.

"Gladstone?" Jon frowned.

"Gladstone," Sherlock repeatedly firmly, "he looks like Gladstone."

"I like Gladstone," Mary said

"So do I!" John snapped defensively. "Gladstone," he repeated again, with a small smile he petted the puppy. "Welcome to the family Gladstone."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Lestrade was used to seeing all sort of weird things, especially since he was friends, well sort of, with Sherlock Holmes, but this was the strangest of all. He never thought Sherlock would ever be caught walking a dog in his life! And petting it! He looked like a proud parent! Oh my God the world was ending!

"A dog?" He managed ask rather casually.

(Trust him that was an achievement.)

"Yes, shared pet of sorts," Sherlock said happily, "Sit Gladstone," he ordered. The dog obeyed him and was immediately rewarded with a pat on his head and a treat. "Good boy, Gladstone, who's a good boy?" Sherlock murmured affectionately.

"Gladstone?" Lestrade scrunched up his nose in disgust. Thank the Gods that Sherlock hasn't had kids yet and probably never will, who the hell would name anyone Gladstone?! "What sort of name is Gladstone?"

"You could hardly talk Inspector," Sherlock said haughtily, "after all he is named after you."

"What?" Lestrade blinked.

"Not your last name, obviously," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "but your first name."

"FOR THE LAST TIME SHERLOCK MY NAME IS GREG. NOT GORDON, NOT GAVIN, AND MOST DEFINITELY NOT GLADSTONE, ITS GREG FUCKING LESTRADE! YOU HEAR ME, GREG FUCKING LESTRADE!"

"You have the most unfortunate middle name."

Lestrade felt he was entitled to strangling Sherlock after that unfortunately neither Mycroft, John, Mary, nor Gladstone the dog agreed with him.

He has the bite marks to prove it.