Completely absorbed in his alchemy, Sherlock forgot there was another living creature in the room.
The divine artifact resting on his desk had claimed every ounce of his attention, and he threw himself wholeheartedly into repairing it.
Doro, meanwhile, had spent quite a while entertaining herself.
When the light of Sherlock’s alchemy began flickering across the room, she stopped running around and looked up at him.
Seeing that he was once again lost in his own little world, Doro rose onto her hind legs, planted both hands on her hips, and let out a helpless sigh.
Her tiny face was filled with exasperation, but between her adorable, bizarre body and the chibi anime art style that looked completely out of place in the real world, even her frustration only made her seem cuter.
As Doro’s creator, Sherlock knew her better than anyone, but the reverse was equally true.
Doro understood his habits perfectly, and once he became this absorbed in alchemy, there was no waking him up.
She had already tested that theory countless times.
Fortunately, this was hardly her first time dealing with the situation, so she knew exactly what to do.
Sherlock might technically have been Doro’s creator, but because of the peculiar nature of her existence, she could not really be classified as either human or dog.
He often called her his pet, though in practice, he doted on her more like a daughter.
For that reason, Sherlock had never restricted where she was allowed to go.
He simply let her wander around and grow at her own pace.
He was not particularly worried about how strangers might react to her, either.
Sherlock lived in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the country, and the residents there generally avoided involving the authorities in anything unless someone was in actual danger.
As for Doro’s bizarre appearance, this was the Marvel Universe.
After everything people had seen over the years, a jelly-bodied chibi creature barely qualified as strange.
Compared to some of the monsters and aliens that had appeared in public, Doro seemed practically designed to win people over on sight.
The entire neighborhood had come to regard her as Sherlock’s adopted mascot.
Young or old, everyone had the same reaction whenever they saw her: Adorable.
Must pet!
Since everyone living in the neighborhood was either wealthy, influential, or both—and even the residents who appeared ordinary usually had extraordinary backgrounds—Doro had somehow built a social circle that would have terrified most politicians.
Even so, aside from the occasions when someone like the Ancient One “borrowed” her, Doro rarely ventured more than a hundred meters away from Sherlock.
That made the neighboring houses her most frequent destinations whenever she left home.
She liked both sets of neighbors, but she was especially close to the couple living on the right.
After one final sigh at Sherlock, Doro set off on her stubby little legs and pattered out of the study.
Her body might have looked ridiculous, but she was astonishingly fast.
Within moments, she had raced out of Sherlock’s house, turned right without hesitation, and crossed the neighboring yard with practiced ease.
Stopping in front of the door, Doro raised one soft white hand and knocked gently.
“Human, Doro came to see you!” At the sound of her childish voice, the door opened from inside.
A man appeared in the doorway, and the instant he spotted Doro, his face lit up.
He scooped her off the ground and rubbed his heavily bearded cheek against her soft, jelly-like face.
“Oh, Doro!
Where have you been?
Did you miss Uncle Wick?” Doro struggled to push his scratchy beard away with both hands.
“Doro went out to play!
Another human took Doro somewhere else through a sparkly circle!” The man was about to say something else—and clearly intended to bury his face in Doro again after being deprived of her for so long—when a woman’s voice interrupted him from behind.
“John, if you keep bothering Doro, I’m going to deal with you myself.” The woman walked over and promptly took Doro from his arms, leaving John staring after them with an expression of wounded innocence.
“All right, Helen, but I refuse to admit I was bothering her.” Helen shot him an unimpressed look and carried Doro deeper into the house.
Yes, the bearded man who turned into a ridiculous doting father whenever Doro appeared was none other than John Wick—the legendary assassin who had slaughtered his way through three movies over the death of his dog.
Unlike his film counterpart, however, this John had not lost his beloved wife, nor had he adopted a beagle named Daisy.
Instead, Doro had become the darling of both husband and wife.
At times, they treated her so much like their own daughter that Sherlock almost wondered whether they had forgotten she technically belonged next door.
The reason John still enjoyed such a peaceful life was Sherlock.
When Sherlock had first arrived in this world, John had not yet retired.
Helen had taken it upon herself to help the young man who had just moved in alone, and she frequently invited him over for dinner.
Anyone capable of capturing the heart of John Wick was naturally difficult to refuse, and before long, the two households had become close.
Sherlock had returned their kindness in his own way.
When John undertook the Impossible Task required to earn his freedom, Sherlock supplied him with numerous alchemical tools.
With their help, John completed the assignment without binding himself to any lingering blood oath and successfully retired, becoming a living legend in the criminal underworld.
That only strengthened the bond between the two families.
John and Helen knew more about Sherlock’s secrets than anyone else.
They were also the only true friends he had made since arriving in this world.
When Helen later fell ill, Sherlock had even used a fraction of the Philosopher’s Stone’s power to cure her.
Because of everything they had been through together, John and Helen treated Doro better than anyone except Sherlock himself.
Not even the Ancient One could compete with them.
The only problem was that whenever Sherlock witnessed John fawning over Doro like an embarrassingly obsessed father, his entire body broke out in goosebumps!
It was almost impossible to reconcile that expression with the man who would one day massacre the entire assassin underworld over a dog.
Yet whenever he saw Doro, John Wick somehow became capable of making the most nauseatingly tender face imaginable while speaking in a sugary voice that did not suit him in the slightest.
Sherlock had occasionally begun to suspect that John was planning to challenge him for Doro custody.