"Gladstone! Gladstone!" A young boy called out into a field, only getting silence as a reply. The boy scratched his blonde head, wondering just where his companion had run off to. In an instant, the boy was interrupted by a sudden tackle. The child's giggling was mixed in with a slight barking noise of the newcomer.

"Gladstone, you silly Growlithe!" The boy shouted as he petted the beast's head, which received a happy whimper as a response, "Good boy."

/*-/*-/*-/*-/

The boy trailed through the grassy plain of his family's garden, a look of utter boredom on his face. The little boy found himself rarely entertained, but today was especially dull.

He continued walking; not really with any destination in mind, but simply in desire of a distraction. It felt like hours (when it was actually about a half an hour) when a movement caught his ever-observant eye.

"Someone there?" He asked, never changing his expression, getting another movement in reply.

"Anyone there?" He asked once more, growing slightly more irritated. One last movement showed a small shadowy figure, though far from human, as the inky quills flared about.

The boy turned his head, with the bird-like creature doing the same.

"A Murkrow…you're a Murkrow." The boy stated to the beast as if expecting a reply, but merely getting a cawing sound in response. He continued to stare, his mouth unchanging, but his bright eyes sparkled with intrigue.

"Interesting." He mumbled as he gently extended his hand towards the Murkrow. Part of him was expecting the creature to attack him and run off, another part wasn't sure what to expect.

The Murkrow did enter a pecking stance, but merely tapped his beak against the boy's open palm, cawing slightly as he did. The boy looked slightly surprised at the motion and quickly rummaged his free hand through his pocket.

"Lo and behold, Mycroft becomes useful for once." He mumbled as he retrieved a red and white sphere, which he had stolen from his elder brother just this morning, "What do you say?" He asked the Murkrow, motioning towards the Pokéball. The creature stared at the device, blinking at the unfamiliarity it held. Finally, he tapped the middle button with his beak, being encased by the red static.

/*-/*-/*-/*-/

"Now then, as graduates, you will be partnered up with one of the following Pokémon." The instructor explained to the classroom full of Medical School graduates. One of them, a short blonde, held eyes full of excitement and relief.

The instructor motioned towards a table lined with Pokéballs, shining from a fresh polish, "Your new partner was chosen based on many factors, including your grades and performance during your internship. As I call out your name, step forward and get your Pokéball." She explained as she looked at the clipboard she held, calling off each individual graduate.

The blonde's mind drifted off slightly, knowing that his name would take some time to reach. He reminisced on all the long nights and cramming sessions he had to suffer through, all for this moment. He chuckled, realizing that as crazy as it sounded, it was completely worth it for right now. He felt a slight tremble on his hip and looked down, the Pokéball on his belt shaking. He smiled, looked like his partner was just as excited as he was.

"John Watson." The blonde's ears perked at his name. He rose from his chair and trailed down the aisle, excitement welling up in his body. When he finally arrived at the table, he grabbed the last Pokéball on the table. "Congratulations." The instructor shook his hand as he went back to his seat for the final speeches.

Awhile later, when John was back in his flat (and back from keeping the liquor away from Harry and having dinner with his parents) he looked at the two Pokéballs that rested on his belt.

"Alright Gladstone, you've been in there long enough." He stated as he lightly tossed the first sphere, unleashing the common red static, which took the form an orange and cream dog-like creature with black stripes. The beast stretched its limbs and barked at his master, who petted his head with a warm smile. "You ready?" he asked the Growlithe, who barked in compliance.

"Alright then." He stated as he tossed the second sphere in a similar manner. The same pattern occurred, only this time the static took on the form of a humanoid bunny with pink and cream fur. It let out a little squeak as it looked over its surroundings, a slight worried look in its blue eyes.

"An Audino?" John asked softly just as said creature noticed him and Gladstone. Squeaking even more as it rubbed the antenna-like limb on the end of its ear, backing up slowly from the pair.

The blonde noticed the uneasiness of his new companion and inched slowly towards it, "It's alright, I'm not here to harm you, nor is Gladstone." He motioned to the Growlithe, whose eyes held a certain curiosity to them. John smiled warmly at the Audino, who looked only slightly calmer.

"Well, it's something." He mumbled as he inched closer to the nervous wreck, contemplating trying to pet him.

The Audino stayed perfectly still until he saw a hand from the human. Its eyes widened but it still stayed in place as the hand patted its fur, gently stroking it.

John looked over the creature, trying to see certain aspects, "Well, you're a male Audino, that's for sure. Now, what do we call you?" he asked to no one in particular, feeling slight joy as the Audino started to enjoy his petting. A few names rolled in his mind, but one kept appearing over and over.

"Timothy…what about Timothy?" he asked the bunny. Its eyes lit up and it squeaked in agreement, with Gladstone's barking accompanying it.

/*-/*-/*-/*-/

"Oh thank you! Thank you so much Sherlock!" A petite, elder woman thanked a much taller, much paler man, who merely smirked. The two were outside a Florida courthouse, a good distance away from the paparazzi, which was plentiful, considering the case, "And thank you, you darling little thing." She added as she petted the Murkrow resting on the man's shoulder, who cawed happily at the touch.

"Oh, that reminds me; Walter wanted to give you something. Walter sweetie!" She called to the Togekiss not far from her. He showed something covered in a cloth and placed it into the man's hand.

"Mrs. Hudson, I don't-"

"Hush now, you wouldn't let me pay you in money, so at least let me give you something for Victor here." She cut him off while she unwrapped the cloth, revealing a dark, purplish stone, "Just in case he wants to evolve." She explained quietly as something caught her eye, "Oh, excuse me one moment." she added, running off into the direction of the prosecutors. The pair stared at the stone, thousands of thoughts running in their heads.

"What do you think?" he asked the Murkrow, eyes never leaving the stone. Victor cawed with slight annoyance.

"Don't give me that, you're definitely old enough. Do you want to evolve or not?" he asked with feigned annoyance, a smirk still on his face. The Murkrow cawed, but this time with agreement.

"Alright then, off my shoulder!" he commanded, with Victor doing just that. Sherlock removed the cloth fully, putting it in the pocket of his trousers. The two inhaled deeply, exhaling just as the stone touched the Murkrow and surrounded him in a bright white light.

/*-/*-/*-/*-/

John stared at the papers in his hand, reading their words for what seemed like the hundredth time. Gladstone whimpered at his master, nudging his hand with his paw. The blonde immediately started petting his friend (An action that had always calmed the both of them) while his gaze turned to the table and the object it held. Gladstone looked as well, and held a slight worried expression towards the object.

"In order for Pokémon to accompany their trainers in the army, they must either be fully evolved or unable to evolve." John read the document aloud, "Based on your application, it was discovered that one of your Pokémon do not fit this description. However, with the conditions of evolution in this case, the Army is more than happy to provide you with the materials needed to meet this requirement. Enclosed with these documents is a Fire Stone…" John trailed off as he looked at the orange-yellow trinket before him.

"These normally cost a fortune. You either need to be rich or extremely lucky in the caves, but here they are just giving us one…" He mumbled, his gaze never leaving the stone. Gladstone whimpered. "Well then, looks like I'll need to call Harry." The Growlithe looked at his master, a shocked look on his face. John bent down to be at eye level with his companion.

"I'm not going to force you to evolve, it's not right," he explained, trying to keep his face steady, "I don't care what the army says; you'd be more than capable evolved or not. I'd rather you not be with me and happy than with me and miserable in a new body." He added, bringing his companion in for a hug. With the Growlithe's face in the other direction, a single tear slid down his cheek, "It'll just be for a little while anyway, why are we getting into such a fuss?" He asked moving so he and his companion were face to face.

Gladstone's body trembled, tears flowing freely at the thought of not being with his master, the man he'd been with since his time as an egg. John will say later that it was partly impulse and partly anger, but in what seemed like a flash Gladstone wringed himself from his master's grip. The Growlithe nearly tackled the table, connecting his body with the Fire Stone. John shouted as his Pokémon was engulfed in a brilliant white light.

/*-/*-/*-/*-/

The silver haired man chuckled from the table, a small empty shot glass in his hand. Three children (Two girls, one boy) were wrestling with a rather large Mightyena, its nuzzle trying to push them off.

"Be easy Sarah, they're just kids." The man laughed, causing a playful growl to emerge from the beast. Suddenly, Sarah's ears perked, her growl turning into one of warning.

"Sarah?" The man asked right before the Mightyena quickly pushed all of the children off and towards the direction of their father. "What's gotten-" He was cut off by a sudden crash at the window. Sarah growled at the intruder, a panting and rather beaten looking Honchkrow.

"Now just what the Hell is going on?" The man asked, eyes hard at the newcomer. The bird tipped its Fedora-like headpiece, as a small way of being polite. His eyes soften only slightly as Sarah's growling persisted.

"Wait just a…you're his Honchkrow aren't you?" he asked as the bird slowly waddled towards the Mightyena, wing only slightly outstretched. It glowed as it was lifted before being used to strike Sarah.

The beast slightly shook her head, the attack barely doing anything. However, the man could see Sarah's mouth turning icy blue, Ice Fang.

"Wait Sarah!" He called out just as the Mightyena charged for the Honchkrow, only for the bird to dodge its attack and go back out of the crack it made. Sarah only looked more irritated as she followed the intruder through the same crack.

"Get to your Mum." The man instructed the children, who immediately went into another room.

A short while later, the man was in his car and caught up with his partner.

"Sarah!" he shouted out. She was still chasing the Honchkrow and had been for at least a half hour. The man kept his eyes on the bird, noting its movements. After, some time, the Honchkrow made a quick dive into an alley, with both Sarah and her master following pursuit.

He stopped and parked the car, checking to make sure he was armed. His gun felt heavy with uncertainty as he followed Sarah on foot. He heard the Mightyena whimpering, and expected the worst.

The man approached the end of the alley to find Sarah, still whimpering, but towards something on the ground. Using his flashlight, the light landed on a cluttered mess…a human.

"What the hell?" he whispered as he examined the body; male, tall, pale, dark haired, and riddled with syringe marks up his arms. He recognized the possible corpse; he had help with a recent homicide. What impressed the man was how quickly it was solved; now, someone who had such potential, withering away in a street alley.

"Poor Devil." He mumbled as he got his handheld radio, expecting to call in a Homicide. Just as he pressed on the talk button, he heard something, a slight groan, coming from the body. A look of complete shock overtook the man's face before he heard the other end of the radio. Shaking his head to concentrate, he spoke.

"This is Detective Inspector Lestrade, we've got what's looks like an OD." He explained into the radio while adding in the address.

/*-/*-/*-/*-/

Silence was the only constant in the room, occasionally accompanied by the beeping of the machines. The patient laid in his bed, his eyes closed but his breathing that of one who is awake. The Audino was sitting by his bedside, worry covering his eyes. A single Pokéball was on the table next to the bed, shaking only slightly.

Timothy squeaked slightly, looking over the machines and checking his master's pulse.

"Timothy." John meekly stated, "You don't have to do that." He added then looked towards the shaking sphere, "You know you're too big Gladstone." The blonde told the shaking Pokéball, which almost stopped in its movements.

John slowly lifted himself in the bed, with the Audino putting his paws on the blonde's shoulder.

"I'm fine!" he snapped, causing Timothy to flinch, "I'm fine." He whispered this time.

/*-/*-/*-/*-/

"He used the blackout to retrieve the weapon from its hiding place here," He motioned towards a now cut opened part of the wall, "Stabbed the victim, and returned it back to its hiding place." He finished and motioned again before Lestrade and an African-American woman, who looked less than pleased.

"Alright then, how did he cause the blackout Freak? None of the wires were cut, there's no fingerprints on the breaker other than the maintenance man's, and he had alibi." The woman asked, eyebrow raised in doubt. The Combee beside her held at rather smug expression at her master's cleverness.

"That's what I need to find out…" he mumbled, looking around the crime scene, scrutinizing every detail of the room. Victor stayed by his trainer's side, looking rather bored. The woman eyed the Honchkrow, and then turned to Lestrade.

"Shouldn't we call PPS?" she whispered to the silver-haired man, who looked at her curiously.

"Why?" he whispered back, though he knew Sherlock was too focused to listen, or would hear every word and not care.

"We've been to his flat, that's hardly a place to raise a Pokémon." She reasoned, remembering the questionable chemicals.

"Donovan look, I know one thing about Sherlock; he hates everyone and thinks that they're idiots. But, there's something about Victor-"

"The Freak gave him a name?"

"Yes…anyway, Sherlock treats Victor as an…well, as an equal."

"And that's relevant because?"

"He won't admit, but that Honchkrow's his only friend." Just then, Victor started acting strange. His fedora perked and chest feathers rustled as he stared at one point nearby, wires that had already been previously looked at.

"Victor?" Sherlock asked. The Honchkrow merely nodded at his master, who smiled as if receiving conformation. "Night Slash." He simply stated with that same smile.

A black blur darted across the room, followed by a slicing sound. Victor stopped at the wires, his wing looking black and metallic. Several of the wires had been cut, but that wasn't all that was there.

"Donovan, I believe I found your answer." Sherlock stated smugly as he walked towards his Honchkrow. He bent down, looking at what his Pokémon had attacked, "Well well." He whispered to himself. Lestrade and Donovan walked towards the pile as well.

"A Rotom?" Lestrade questioned, looking at the orange form covered in blue electricity.

"Yes Lestrade, thank you for stating the obvious." The dark haired man rolled his eyes as Victor snickered, "But yes, now it makes sense."

"He used the Rotom to cause the blackout!" Donovan exclaimed.

"Another obvious deduction." Sherlock replied irritated as he looked over the Rotom, "Huh, and a wild Rotom, quite rare. But understandable; if the killer used one of his own Pokémon, it would be easy to trace." He added mostly to himself.

"How could he convince a wild Pokémon to-"

"Look all around you, wires and machines abound. As long as it did its job, it could play in here all it wanted." Sherlock explained absently, still looking at the electrical being, that was now recovering from the attack.

The Rotom looked at the dark haired man, an awed expression in its eyes. It looked at Victor as well, still slightly amazed. After several nanoseconds, it held out an electrical limb. Sherlock looked at the offering, then ghosted his gloved hand over it. Lestrade and Donovan looked surprised as the Rotom went to the man's shoulder and rested there.

"Victor." He stated. The Honchkrow tipped his fedora towards the Detective Inspectors as both he and his master started leaving.

"But you can't just take evidence Freak!" Donovan shouted towards them, causing Sherlock to turn.

"What do you need her for? She didn't know what the blackout was for, only that she would get this room in exchange for it. She caused it, end of story." He articulated with irritation clear in his voice.

"She? Aren't Rotom supposed to be genderless?"

"Electra identifies as a Female." He pointed to the Rotom, who nodded happily in agreement.

/*-/*-/*-/*-/

"Well, these are definitely different from back in our day, huh Timothy?" John asked as the two, accompanied by another slightly larger man and his Blissey, entered what seemed to be a lab.

"Yep, they updated a few years ago." The other man explained as the two noticed another occupant in the room. The man was examining something under a microscope.

"Mike, I need to borrow your phone." He stated, it wasn't a suggestion.

"Why can't you use yours?" Mike asked while going over to said Blackberry. Right as he touched the device, a blue spark shocked the man. He shouted in surprise and recoiled his finger.

"Electra." The man explained dully, "She's very possessive." He glared towards the phone.

John looked over the man. He was an oddity to say the least, "You can use mine." John offered with a hint of caution. The man glanced at him and the phone.

"Thank you." He said simply, taking the device and typing something on the keyboard, "Afghanistan or Iraq?" he asked, causing John to raise an eyebrow.

"What?" He asked puzzlingly with Timothy holding a similar expression.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" he asked again.

"Afghanistan." Was the simple answer. The phone was returned to him as the man went back to the microscope.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking; sometimes I don't talk for hours. Also, how do you feel about Honchkrow or Rotom?"

"I…they're fine with me, why?"

"I feel that potential Flatmates should know the worst about each other." He explained with a grin.

"Wait Flatmates?" John started while looking over to Mike, who just had a knowing expression, "What makes you think-"

"I talk to Mike about Flatemate this morning, then right after lunch he comes back with an old friend who has obviously just spent time in Afghanistan. Seems obvious. There's a place in town where the two of us should be able to afford." The man was putting on his coat and scarf and grabbed the Blackberry, receiving no shock whatsoever, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I left a Honchkrow in the morgue."

"And that's it?"

"What?"

"We've just met and you already want to be Flatmates? I don't even know your name."

"Well, I know that you're an Army Doctor who just spent time in Afghanistan. You have a brother who's concerned for your well-being, but you don't want to go to him for help. Possibly because he left his wife, most likely because he's a drunk. Your therapist believes that your limp is psychosomatic, quite right I'm afraid. And you have two Pokémon; An Audino, obviously, and an Arcanine. I think that's about all." He listed rapidly, a smile forming afterwards. John looked at the man, completely and utterly…amazed?

"The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon." And with a wink and click of his tongue, he left.

/*-/*-/*-/*-/

"So then, how did you guess about Gladstone?" John asked as the two were in a cab, heading to God knows where. Sherlock had just explained to him about all the other deductions he had made earlier, from the brother to the limp. Though impressed, John still couldn't figure that one out, "I mean, Timothy was obvious like you said, but Gladstone was right here the whole time." He motioned to the Pokéball on his belt.

"Scorch marks."

"Excuse me?"

"Scorch marks all over your coat; you tried to wash them off, but they're still noticeable. That indicated that you had a fire type."

"Timothy could know Flamethrower."

"The marks were from a Fire Fang, judging by the location and how dark the marks are, which shows that they were obtained by close contact."

"Alright then, but how did you get Arcanine?" Sherlock brushed his fingers against John's jacket. Taking his fingers away, bits of fur appeared against his gloves.

"I'd recognize that fur anywhere."

"Amazing. Absolutely incredible." John complimented. The dark haired man raised an eyebrow.

"That's not what people usually say."

"What do they normally say?"

"Piss off." With that, the two erupted into a fit of laughter.

/*-/*-/*-/*-/

"Are you okay?" He asked when arriving at the Police barricade. It had seemed only nanoseconds since the shooting.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"You did just shoot a man."

"Yes, well…he wasn't a very nice man." Timothy covered his mouth with his paws, suppressing a giggle.

"No…no, he wasn't really, was he?"

"No, and frankly, a bloody awful cabbie."

"That's true, he was a bad cabbie. You should've seen the route he took us to get here." With that, the two men let out genuine (but quite) giggles.

/*-/*-/*-/*-/

"Dammit." John mumbled as a Tesco bag started slipping. Timothy tried to help his master, but was loaded down with his own bags.

"The bastard. Couldn't get the shopping even though he has the flying type." Another mumble as the two finally reached the door. With a little maneuvering, John was able to open the door. He heard a noise coming from upstairs, then sighed, having a pretty good idea what was going on.

The two entered the Flat, arriving at chaos. Victor was flying around freely, with an irritated looking Gladstone following. Electra was sparking with laughter as she watched the spectacle with her master, who was egging the two on.

"Victor! Surely you can outrun that beast!" Sherlock shouted towards the Honchkrow, "And Gladstone, are you honestly going to let him treat you like that?"

"Just what the hell is going on!?" the shout stopped everyone in their tracks (save for Victor, who merely landed on the floor nearby). Timothy looked as if he was about to pass out at the mess the incident had cause.

"Oh John, you're back with the shopping." Sherlock greeted as if nothing had happened.

"Timothy, put the bags up; I'll help you clean in a minute." He soothed the Audino, who immediately retreated into the kitchen.

"I'll deal with you in a moment." He stated, pointing to the taller man, "And I'm not your owner, so I can't say anything." He continued pointing to Victor, who sighed with relief, "But you!" he pointed to Gladstone, who looked like a kicked puppy as opposed to the ferocious beast he was.

"You know better than this Gladstone!" He scolded the Arcanine, who whimpered and lowered his head to the floor. John inhaled deeply through his nose, then sighed it back out. Gladstone took note of the action, and approached his master. He nuzzled his nose against the blonde before licking his face. John yelped in surprise at the action.

"Gladstone!" He shouted, only slightly less angry. The Arcanine continued his friendly assault until John finally admitted "Alright alright, I'm not mad at you!" He admitted, causing Gladstone to stop, barking in joy.

"Now for you." He turned towards Sherlock, who looked rather blank at the newly risen anger, "What would possess you to edge them on!?"

"It was an experiment. Victor?" The Honchkrow walked towards his master, handing over his wing. Sherlock pulled a single inky and soot-covered feather from the wing, "To see what the effects of a fire attacks on flying types. I know they have neutral effect, but still…." He trailed off, not noticing the rising the anger in the blonde.

"You are a complete and utter git." John stated through gritted teeth, only to exhale a breath he didn't know he was holding. Just then, a squeak could be heard. The blonde turned to see Timothy, broom in hand, sweeping up slight debris from the incident. He looked paranoid at the mess, despite the less than sanitary conditions of Afghanistan.

"Nevermind." He mumbled somewhat angrily. But his face shaped into a smirk as he went to help the Audino. He looked around the room as he cleaned, seeing what had now become his life.

John was surprised at how perfectly comfortable he was (After his anger subsided of course).