bakerstreet | Papa don't preach

The Parenting Meme

HOW IT WORKS:
➔ Post with your characters, one per comment please.
➔ Others tag your muse with a number choice. Either use the RNG or pick whichever you like. For optimum fun, be adventurous! Throw random characters at each other and see what fun shenanigans you can get up to.
➔ Congratulations! Now you're parents. Hopefully you won't screw this up too much.
➔ Have fun!

01. You’ve just gotten the news, you’re pregnant. Time to tell your spouse. OR You’ve just gotten the news, you’re approved for adoption! Time to tell your spouse.
02. Oh my God, you’re in labor! OR Oh my God, time to meet your adoption prospect.
03. It’s the first night home with your new baby. Good luck.
04. Now you know why they call it the terrible twos. How are you and your spouse coping?
05. It’s your little one’s first day of school. You and your spouse are seeing them off.
06. Sitting in the stands for your kid’s big sports game. You two cheer as loud as you can!
07. The only thing worse than a two-year-old is a teenager. Time to discuss what's an appropriate punishment.
08. Hopefully you’ve got fresh batteries in your camera for prom pictures. Maybe your spouse remembered.
09. Your kid is off to college. You can’t believe the number of boxes you’ve got to fit in your car and carry to their dorm.
10. You’re older, wiser and probably going to cry at your kid's wedding. At least you two still have each other.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Irene is watching the animal with the sort of care normally reserved for intruders with guns. In fact, she might prefer to have armed men in their sitting room. At least they wouldn't shed.]

You've adopted a dog. [She says it with false brightness meant to indicate just how thrilled she's not.]

[John is blissfully unaware of this, well, at least outside of his own amusement in regards to it. He pets the wrinkled English bulldog pup on the head, and heads towards the kitchen to sort through the bags of shopping and pet supplies he's brought home.

The pup follows after him, waddling along dutifully.

He casts a sidelong glance at her, unable to keep the slight grin off of his face.]

A puppy, yes. And technically I think it's generally assumed that you adopt each other.

Did it have to sign the forms as well?

[She follows both of them, mainly to keep an eye on the puppy.

It's not that she particularly dislikes dogs. They're fine, as long as they belong to someone else. That's how she feels about nearly all animals. They're messy and they require care and, with her previous jet-setting lifestyle, she never had the time for it. Even now, she can't imagine owning a pet of the non-human variety.]

Yes, it was all a very complicated. My handwriting is terrible, I wonder why Gladstone even puts up with me.

[You're doomed, Irene. He's gone and named it already.]

Gladstone?

[Leaning against the counter now, eyeing all the pet gear coming out of the bags. She can sense this is a losing battle, but that doesn't mean she's going to give him an easy time of it.]

It's a wonder I put up with you. Suppose I were allergic.

That's his name.

[John is taking the dog bowl and dish out, pulling out a bag of food as he does, and fills the dish up. Gladstone gives a little yip at that, and waddles over, pawing at John's leg. He knows that sound.]

Yes, yes, I know, hang on. [He continues his task of getting the pup sorted, and once the bowl is filled with water, sets it in a clear corner of the kitchen, Gladstone following at his heels to dig in immediately after.

He looks conflicted then.]

Are you? I mean-I can ask if Mrs. Hudson wouldn't mind keeping it downstairs with her until I can find him a home. I couldn't leave him outside-[He does very much like the dog, but he can go with his original plan-which began to degrade as soon as he was around it for any amount of time-of simply caring for it long enough to find it a home.]-are you allergic?

[It is unbelievably tempting to say yes. She knows John would believe her and that would be that, no more dog. Only- God damn it, he looked so happy when he brought it in. Doesn't one of them deserve that? Getting rid of the dog won't make her any less unhappy on a day-to-day basis and keeping it, for him at least, might actually do some good. And it won't kill her. Probably.

With a long-suffering sigh,] No.

But-

[One perfectly manicured finger in the air]

I'm not walking it.

[This is as close to her blessing as he's getting. She can only be so unselfish. And who knows, maybe she'll warm up to it in time. And stop saying "it." And use his name. Maybe.]

[His shoulders, which he hadn't realized were tense, relax at her answer, and smiles widely.]

I'll do all the walking. Promise.

[The corners of her mouth turn up just the slightest fraction in response.]

All right, so we're dog owners. What else does that even entail?

Um, well, I actually don't even know. [He chews on the inside of his cheek briefly.]

I've never actually had one before.

Really?

[She seems surprised.]

Yes. Didn't really have time or anything. What with --just family stuff. That and Harry and I could never agree on what pet we'd like. She ended up getting a bird or something. The noise was terrible, and she didn't even end up looking after it.

[Gladstone eats a bit more and sets off to explore the flat, John watching him with the corners of his lips turned up in a slight smile.]

Always wanted one though.

[She makes a sympathetic noise at the mention of Harry's bird. At least she can see the appeal of dogs, even if she has no desire to care for one herself.

Her gaze follows Gladstone automatically to make sure he's behaving himself.]

We had fish. Tropical, in one of those huge tanks. They were more...scenery than pets though. I'm not sure I so much as fed them once.

[Gladstone is happily waddling through the kitchen, sniffing at everything, and he eventually makes his way over to Irene, sniffing at her feet.]

Nothing against fish, just prefer hands-on with animals, I suppose.

They weren't my choice.

[Those are extremely expensive shoes he's sniffing. She hesitates and then reaches down to let him have a sniff at her fingers as well.]

Parents?

[He asks, smiling as Irene allows him to sniff her fingers. Gladstone's response is to lick her fingers in greeting after he does. John comes over, leans down to scoop the pup up into his arms, and holds him at eye level for Irene.]

Irene, Gladstone. Gladstone, Irene. Just to get the formalities out of the way.

[He really does enjoy having the pup around.]

Yes. My father.

[That's about all he's getting on that. She leans in as well, though just out of the range of face-slurps, and gazes steadily at the dog.]

Hello, Gladstone. You're going to be an extremely well-behaved pup, aren't you?

[Oh, but he's trying to wriggle in John's very secure grasp to offer kisses to Irene. When that doesn't succeed, he gives a rather loud yip.]

I think that's his agreeing with you.

Papa don't preach

2ish, SPEAKING OF DOGS...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

this---isn't late at all. >.>