Warnings: Some abuse/beating. Possible non-con later. There might be some stuff in this story that could make people uncomfortable so proceed with caution.

When Sherlock was six and Mycroft was thirteen, Mycroft got his puppy. His puppy had brown hair and big brown eyes and Sherlock decided instantly that he wanted one for himself. He would often tag along with Mycroft and his pet, trying to play with the puppy since he hadn't one for himself. But Mycroft wasn't keen on sharing and Sherlock was often left out.

Sherlock pestered his parents constantly, begging and pleading for a puppy of his own. Finally on his seventh birthday, his mummy took him down to the pound to pick one out. Sherlock took a long time, studying each puppy thoroughly to make sure he picked the right one. He could always change his mind and return the puppy for a better one but he didn't like the pound. It was too big and it smelled funny. On top of that all the puppy's stared at him. It was quite unnerving.

In one of the last cages, he found a small puppy with sandy hair and deep blue eyes. The puppy sat in the corner and didn't even look Sherlock. His eyes flicked at him for a moment but he didn't stare. Instead he twirled a piece of straw around his finger, tightening it until the blood was cut off and the tip of his finger was white. Then the puppy released it and it fell to the ground.

"Him." Sherlock pointed, feeling confident in his decision. "I want him."

"Are you sure?" Mummy asked.

"Oh yes." Sherlock nodded, his stomach full of butterflies and excitement filling his chest. He stared at his new pet, his new friend, and couldn't help feeling that his puppy was better than Mycroft's, better than anyone's. His puppy was special and extraordinary, but best of all, it was entirely his.

XXXX

Sherlock and his puppy liked to explore the grounds of his house. They'd pick berries off the bushes and lie in the grass, staring up at the sky while eating them. Puppy swore there were shapes in the clouds but Sherlock never saw them. Still he trusted his puppy and was willing to take his word on it.

On rainy days, they'd stay inside and read. Occasionally they'd play hide n' seek. Sherlock was much better at it than puppy. He always found his pet quickly while puppy took much longer to find Sherlock. Sherlock was good at getting himself into tight spaces and his puppy usually discounted them because he believed Sherlock couldn't fit. He always could.

But sometimes on rainy days they liked to go outside and splash around in the puddles. Puppy loved to jump in a puddle so that it would hit Sherlock dead on and dirtying his clothes. Sherlock always retaliated by doing the same and they'd run around, giggling, and trying to get each other.

They'd come banging into the house loudly, their cheeks red from running around and their clothes soaking. They'd get herded into the tub to get clean, Sherlock in the large porcelain one with warm water and bubbles, puppy in a small basin that he hardly fit in with cold water and no soap. One time Sherlock had told his puppy to join him in the big tub, that there was more than enough room. When they were discovered, blowing bubbles at each other, they'd been scolded. Owners and puppies were not supposed to share baths apparently and puppy got caged for a week. Sherlock didn't like that, not one bit.

XXXX

Another thing Sherlock didn't like was how well Mycroft's puppy and his puppy got on. The puppies always ate in the kitchen, never at the table with the family. One day when Sherlock finished his dinner early, he went to the kitchen to collect puppy and found the two of them talking and laughing while they ate their supper.

Sherlock decided he didn't like Mycroft's puppy and did his best to keep his puppy away from him. Yet as they got older and Sherlock started spending most of his day with tutors, it became difficult to keep an eye on them. He had to spend most of his time with his stupid, fat brother and hardly any with puppy. He and puppy hardly ever played anymore and yet every night Sherlock would go over what he had learned that day, and puppy would listen avidly, soaking up all the information. Sherlock was proud to have such a smart and eager pet.

A part of him missed the days of puddles and berries. Of hide n' seek and clouds. They were growing up and Sherlock found it was happening too quickly. And yet it didn't seem to be slowing down for anything and soon things were different, very different. Sherlock found himself looking at his puppy in a way that differed from how he used to. There were thing Sherlock had liked about puppy from the very first moment they locked eyes at the pound. He liked puppy's hair and eyes but there were other things too. He liked the small upturn of his nose and the pinkness of his lips.

"Puppy." Sherlock said after he had finished practicing his violin for the day. He was careful and meticulous when putting it away, careful not to damage it in any way. Puppy had been sitting in the window seat, a book in his lap while he ate an apple. Sherlock had been so mesmerized by the way puppy's mouth stretched around the tantalizing fruit that he had missed a few chords. The sunlight was streaming in, making puppy's hair shine.

"Yes Sherlock?" Puppy responded, putting his book down and taking another bite of his apple. Sherlock watched as the large chunk of the fruit rolled around in his pet's mouth until finally he swallowed it. Sherlock swallowed as well, but only because he had noticed his mouth had gone uncomfortably dry.

"Will you come here?" Sherlock asked, his hands suddenly a bit sweaty. He wiped them on his trousers and watched as puppy set the apple down on top of his book and came over, obedient as ever. Sherlock was taller than his puppy and he liked that. But when he was sitting and puppy was standing over him, Sherlock found he liked that quite a lot as well.

"Are you ok Sherlock?" Puppy asked, looking concerned. His brow furrowed as his eyes searched for what could be the problem. "You've gone a bit red."

Sherlock took a deep breath, trying to gain enough courage for what he was about to ask. When his resolve had thickened, he steeled himself and spoke. "Will you kiss me?"

Puppy looked taken aback by Sherlock's request, but after a moment he softened. Sherlock had never been kissed before, but he wanted his puppy to kiss him, very badly. Puppy still looked slightly hesitant and Sherlock knew he could order him to and puppy would have no choice, but that was the last thing he wanted to do. He desperately wanted his kiss but he wanted puppy to want it as well.

Finally puppy gave him a lopsided grin and a one shoulder shrug before leaning down and pressing their lips together. Puppy's lips were soft and he tasted like apple. Sherlock licked puppy's lips, wanting to get more of the taste. Then puppy did the same to Sherlock and he found it was very exciting. Puppy's lips were parted, so Sherlock slipped his tongue in and trailed it along puppy's teeth. His pet copied the act and on they went, exploring each other's mouths until they were both panting and their lips were swollen.

When Sherlock decided they were done kissing, puppy curled up into his lap and put his head in the crook of Sherlock's neck. Sherlock stroked his pet's hair lovingly and was so glad that such a wonderful and beautiful thing belonged to him.

"Thank you." He said to his puppy, not just for the kissing, but for everything.

XXXX

When Sherlock was thirteen and Mycroft was twenty, their puppies tried to escape. They made it to the edge of the property before they were caught by the security. Mycroft yelled and shouted abuse at the two but Sherlock kept quiet. He noticed that they were right by the berry bushes and it made it all the more painful. All their wonderful times together, had it meant nothing?

The one glance he managed at his pet was agonizing. Puppy's eyes were sad, his lip quivering, an apologetic look on his face. Sherlock had to turn away out of anger and hurt. It wasn't long before the four of them were making their way back to the house and Mycroft was telling Sherlock they had to be punished.

"Then put them in their cages for a week." Sherlock said risking a glance back at his puppy. His head was down, hanging in what Sherlock hoped was shame.

"That's not enough." Mycroft insisted. "The punishment does not fit the crime. I'm afraid this must be dealt with in a more severe manner."

"Like what?" Sherlock asked, not liking the sound of it.

The pets were told the go to their rooms and wait for their masters to come to them. Mycroft gave Sherlock a long, black riding crop and showed him how to use it, how to bring it down with enough force to bruise but not make his pet bleed. Sherlock practiced with a sense of horror and mild fascination. He liked the riding crop, it was an interesting tool, but he didn't think he could use it on his puppy.

"Sherlock." Mycroft put a hand on his shoulder, noticing his discomfort. "This sort of behavior can't go unpunished. They are our possessions and should be grateful to be in our care. They must learn humility and that this sort of thing will not be tolerated. If we don't nip this in the bud now, they may try to escape again. You don't want that, now do you?"

Sherlock shook his head and took the riding crop with him up to his room. Puppy was sitting in his chair in the corner, his legs pulled up to his chest. When Sherlock entered, holding the riding crop, puppy's eyes widened in fear. Sherlock would have given anything to spare his pet this but Mycroft was right. As much as it would pain him to hurt his pet, it would hurt more if puppy ever succeeded in running away.

"Pull down you pants and lie facedown on the bed." Sherlock said twisting the crop in his hand.

"Sherlock, please." Puppy said in a small voice.

"Now." Sherlock said, his voice austere and his eyes blazing. Puppy trembled as he undid his trouser, pushed them down and bent himself over the bed.

Sherlock used the riding crop just as Mycroft had shown him but a few times he didn't do it right, using too much force and drawing blood. Puppy never shouted or begged Sherlock to stop, he didn't even cry. He stayed perfectly still and took his punishment, occasionally grunting or hissing in pain. Soon his lower back, buttocks and upper thighs were covered in welts, a few of them with lines of blood dripping down. But despite the obvious pain he was in, he never made more than a faint cry.

Sherlock, however, did cry. With each blow he began crying harder until the tears blurred his vision and he had to stop because he couldn't see what he was doing. He buried his face in his hands and wept because his puppy didn't love him. His puppy wanted to leave him and Sherlock made the decision that he would never let that happen. Ever.

He dropped the riding crop on the floor and sunk down to his knees in despair. His breathing was shallow, coming out his gasps and he couldn't seem to stop himself. His puppy got up from the bed, wincing as he pulled up his trousers and joined Sherlock on the floor. Sherlock reached forward and wrapped his arms around his pet, holding him close and stroking his hair. He was letting puppy know that he forgave him, even if he had broken Sherlock's heart. Puppy nuzzled his face against Sherlock's chest, informing him that he was also forgiven.

XXXX

Sherlock had always known that he was difficult. He abhorred most of the human interact he was forced into. The few times a year that he was required to endure the company of some of the local "respectable" families and their idiotic children, Sherlock spent most of his time with his puppy. He'd point out things and make puppy laugh like that Simon had slept with the maid as evident by the smudge of lipstick on the back of his ear and the fact that he had a dusty handprint on his arse. Or the fact that Mrs. Trunswell's husband had left her for a man but she was still pretending all was well. Still, she didn't care much since she was already sleeping with her chauffeur. He knew because she was looking at any pairing of men with angry glares and she had a bit of engine grease on the hem of her skirt where a man had lifted it up.

"You're brilliant." Puppy murmured against his ear and Sherlock felt his face grow warm with a blush. It wasn't from the compliment, he got those often enough. It was most likely from the feeling of hot breath against his ear. He already knew he was brilliant and yet he never tired of puppy telling him so.

"Ah Sherlock." Sebastian said as he made his way over to them. Sherlock's face instantly formed into a frown and his whole body tensed. "Still doing your little parlor trick then?"

"It's not a trick." Sherlock replied, trying to keep calm but his hands still curled into fists.

"You know everyone here hates you, right?" Sebastian pressed on as if Sherlock hadn't even spoken. "The only reason you're invited is because you have an influential family."

"Shut up." Sherlock said through gritted teeth

"If you were a dog, they'd have you put down. You're defective Sherlock. A freak. No one understands why you bother to show up to these things. Every time we're hoping you'll get the hint and yet for a self-proclaimed genius, you're still incredibly thick."

Sherlock felt the color drain from his face. He forced himself to uncurl his fists and keep his face as still as stone. And yet there was the sound of a fist cracking against bone and skin. "Puppy, no!" Sherlock cried out, wrenching his pet back. Puppy's face was red with anger, his body shaking with rage as he shouted at Sebastian.

"You fucking maggot. You're lucky to breathe his air. He's more clever than anyone else in this room."

"Puppy, stop." Sherlock said softly in his ear, holding his pet against him and stroking his arm soothingly. "Calm down, it's not worth it."

"You—" Sebastian spat, shakily getting to his feet, holding a cloth against his nose that was gushing blood. "I'll have you chambered for this."

"You'll do no such thing." Sherlock replied, letting go of his puppy and stepping between them, shielding his pet from view. "This is my pet, which means his punishment rests in my hands, not yours. You so much as try to get him chambered and I will make life very unpleasant for you. As you say, I have an very influential family."

With that Sherlock turned on his heel and grabbed his puppy roughly by the arm to lead them from the room as quickly as possible. As soon as they were out the door, they began running, heading back to the Holmes's estate. The moment they were through the front gate, they stopped to catch their breath.

"Sherlock, I'm so sorry." Puppy said while still gasping for air. "Please forgive me, I don't know what came over me. I just couldn't listen to him speak to you like that."

"It's fine." Sherlock said, raising his hand to John's face and caressing his cheek. "Although I'm afraid you're brought an awful lot of trouble down on yourself."

"Why?"

"My family will undoubtedly hear about this and they'll expect me to punish you. They'll check to make sure I have." His stomach churned at the idea of it. His puppy had only been defending Sherlock and now he had to be punished for it.

"It's alright." He said taking Sherlock's hand and giving it a light squeeze.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the bile rising in his throat. He didn't want to hurt his friend but if he didn't Mycroft or someone else would and they might hurt him worse than Sherlock. No he'd have to do this, he'd have to be brave to save his puppy from a more terrible fate.

"It's ok." Puppy said soothingly, moving closer so Sherlock could feel his breath on his face. He wouldn't move closer, not without Sherlock's consent or an order.

"Will you kiss me?" Sherlock asked softly. He never ordered him with things like this, it was always his pet's choice.

Puppy closed the gap between them, their lips pressing together. It was short, they didn't have much time before someone from the house would come looking for them. Sherlock dropped his head onto his pet's shoulder, their hands still entwined. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, it's all fine." Puppy said stroking Sherlock's hair.

Together they went up to Sherlock's room where he used the riding crop, six stripes along his back, arse and thighs. Again, he barely made any noise at all but this time Sherlock didn't cry. He kept his face stoic and instead concentrated on being efficient to cause the least amount of pain. His strokes were controlled and even, not even drawing a hint of blood.

When they were finished, he asked his puppy to lie with him. They got into the bed and his pet rested against him, his head against Sherlock's chest. Sherlock rested his chin on the top of Puppy's head and held him close, making sure he was on his side so he wouldn't have to put any of his weight on his fresh wounds.

The door was thrown open and two of the household staff, two burly men who worked security, came in quickly and snatched his friend right out of his hands. "What are you doing? What's going on?" Sherlock asked, getting to his feet swiftly and trying to pry his pet away from them. "Stop it!"

"Sherlock." Mycroft's cold voice entered the room before he did and he let the thugs carry puppy away before he stepped in.

"What are you doing? I already punished him, you can see for yourself!" Sherlock exclaimed desperately trying to push past his brother to get to his pet.

"That's enough Sherlock, calm down." Mycroft replied, his demeanor icy. Greg, his own pet stood off to the side. Mycroft had finally giving his pet a name and decided on Gregory. The pet kept his hands behind his back, his lips pressed tightly together to keep from saying anything.

"You can't do this, he's mine!"

"Sherlock, will you reign it in. He's not being chambered, if that's what your concern is. What he did hardly merits such a fate. We all know Sebastian is an odious little weasel but your pet laid a hand on him and raised his voice. I'm sure you punished him but we have to discourage this kind of behavior or something worse will happen. He's going to be caged for two weeks and count yourself lucky that's all that's happening to him. If Sebastian had gotten his way, and he campaigned hard enough for it, you pet would be off to the chambers right now."

Sherlock's gaze flickered over to Greg, who gave a small nod to confirm what Mycroft was saying. Sherlock took a deep breath and turned to face his brother. "I understand."

"Good." Mycroft smiled and turned to leave with Greg in tow. "And make certain it doesn't happen again." He called over his shoulder.

XXXX

Sherlock made it a week before he decided he had to see his friend. He waited until four in the morning, when everyone, including the staff had gone to sleep. There would only be a few guards on duty and Sherlock could avoid them easily. He slipped out of his room and crept down the hall, being careful to miss any floorboards that might creak. He'd tested them earlier and mapped the route in his head over the past week.

He managed to get downstairs without running into anyone or being stopped. It would be harder once he got outside, the doghouse had much more security. The doghouse was a small stone building right behind their house with no windows and only one door. He punched in the key-code and the single door opened for him and he slipped inside, easing the door shut to make as little noise as possible.

He moved in haste along the cement floor. At least he didn't have to worry about his footsteps making too much noise. He moved aagainst the wall, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. He didn't have as firm a grasp of the layout for the doghouse since owners weren't allowed in it. He'd had a few close calls with the guards, narrowly escaping by the skin of his teeth.

When he finally reached his puppy's cage, his pet was in the corner, lying in the fetal position completely naked. His sandy hair was dirty and matted down from the lack of bathing, his body covered in dirt from the unclean ground. Sherlock's breath hitched as he looked at the scene in front of him.

"Puppy." Sherlock whispered, kneeling down. His friend stirred and lifted his head.

"Sherlock?" he asked as if he could hardly believe it. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." Sherlock replied, giving him a small smile.

"You shouldn't be here, you'll get in trouble."

"When has that ever stopped me?"

Puppy chuckled and moved closer, sliding across his cage so they were facing each other. Sherlock had seen his pet naked countless times and yet after they'd kissed that first time, the image of his pet nude affected him a great deal more. He made an effort not to stare but couldn't help a small, appreciative glance down.

Sherlock slipped his fingers through the bars and his friend reached up and did the same, their fingers lacing together. "Are you alright?" he asked. He really had no idea what happened in the doghouse but he had a vague notion of what might go on. It was frightfully cold and his pet had nothing to keep him warm. Any food he received would be cold and probably tasteless.

"I'm fine." He answered and Sherlock knew he was putting on the brave face for his benefit.

"You mustn't do anything like that again." Sherlock commanded sternly.

"I know, I was out of line. I just didn't like him talking to you like that." He said softly.

"No, I don't care about that." Sherlock waved it off. "Sebastian deserved it. But if you act out again they might chamber you and I can't…" his voice broke and he desperately wanted to reach through the bars and touch his friend properly.

"I won't." puppy promised, lowering his face to press gentle kisses to Sherlock's fingers.

Sherlock eventually had to tear himself away, sneaking back into his room. If Mycroft or anyone else knew what he had done, they didn't say anything. And after another torturous week apart, his puppy was released back to him. The moment they were together again, Sherlock decided it was time to give his pet a name. He let puppy chose even though it was highly unconventional for pets to choose their own names. But Sherlock thought puppy would like that and he wanted a way to say thank you for what his friend had done.

Sherlock didn't like the name puppy chose, it was much too mundane for such an extraordinary person. Still he had to admit it suited him and it was nice to have something to call him. They were getting older and "puppy" would no longer suffice. They finished filling out the paperwork and got his friend his dogtags. Sherlock slipped the chain around his pet's neck and the hung against his chest, the metal sliding together.

He gave his friend a smile, the engraved name gleaming in the metal tags. "John." Sherlock said, using his friend's name for the first time.