Chapter Text
It was completely by chance that a duck had ended up in 221B.
It was purely coincidence that John had chosen to sit on that particular bench in that particular park after his last shift on that Friday afternoon.
John would normally have said that the chances of the duck choosing to approach him of all the dozens of people in the park at all were amazingly slim. However, as it turned out, this particular duck was very talented at appearing when and where it was least welcome.
But that didn’t change the fact that it had, and so John was as surprised as anyone might have been when he turned around to pick up the remains of his lunch- a shop-bought sandwich and a packet of crisps- only to see a duckling pecking at crumbs where he had been sitting only moments before.
When it failed to hop off the bench and make its way back to the duck pond, John shrugged and turned away. He had barely taken two steps when there was a tiny thud from behind him and then the duck was pecking at his ankles.
“Are you lost?”
The duck tipped its head on one side and watched John earnestly.
Shaking his head, John turned round and continued down the path. He periodically glanced over his shoulder every few metres to see if the duck was still following him.
It was.
Eventually, it became clear that the duck was not going to “piss off” no matter how many times he told it to.
John bent down and squinted at the duckling, which was still watching him in interest. One of its wings was bent slightly, and his inquiring finger was met with an indignant quack.
“That looks sore.”
The duck blinked.
“You should go and see a doctor.”
The duck blinked.
“I am not a doctor.”
The duck blinked.
“Well, okay, I am a doctor.”
The duck sidled up to him and pecked at his foot again.
John gave the duckling a nudge with his toe and it landed on the gravel with a muffled thump. “If you peck me one more time I swear I’ll coat you in honey and roast you for Sunday lunch.” John said, a little louder than intended.
A woman walking past frowned accusingly at John and reached down to hold her child’s hand. He gave her an apologetic smile, but she was already hurrying away. “...Right then. I suppose it’s my job to get you to a vet, isn’t it?”
The duck didn’t answer, but opened up its wings and hopped slightly, as if it was trying to level itself to John’s face. John scooped the duck up, careful to keep his hands away from its beak (which was snapping open and shut at an alarming speed), and dropped it into the pocket of his jacket. It wriggled around for a moment before popping its head back out.
John straightened and began to walk again, trying to focus on the crunch of his boots on the gravel and ignore the odd sensation of having his hip pecked through several layers of fabric.