My Trips are Weird - Sequel to MCIW (Lots of Fandoms crossover)

Wakes Park

I'm not dead! sorry for the wait I've been busy (I know its's a pathetic excuse to keep you waiting) Don't kill me please . . . I'm trying lol :) Anyway enjoy!!! Comments and votes and stuff you lovely people XD

The street was oddly quiet but I guessed that was about right for dinner time. Trust Sherlock to arrange to meet up somewhere at a stupid time. I swore that he'd interrupt Christmas dinner with my entire family just to meet up with him because he thought it might be 'convenient'.

John pushed his hands further into his pockets.

It wasn't a particularly cold evening but it wasn't exactly warm either. It was one of those nights where the typical British weather could either stay fine or begin chucking it down at any second.

Wakes park was only on the edge of the estate and maybe around two miles from school. Everyone I knew pretty much lived within a seven mile radius of the school anyway so it was a close community. Anyone outside of that went to some other grammar school: Chance Thorp - I think it was called. But apparently our school and their school were in some kind of childish war.

John opened the little black gate for me at the entrance of the park before we continued down the little gravel path that, before long, branched out into several other paths all leading away from each other with a massive oak tree stood in the centre.

One path went to a small lake where boating and fishing took place during the nice summer months. Another path lead you on a woodland walk that left you ending up where you'd started. Another lead to a café, another to a small petting zoo.

All in all Wakes Park was like a land mark and attracted visitors from all over for days out on a weekend and such.

The path John and I took lead to the play areas and play grounds that stood more towards the edge of the park: a small one designed for toddlers, a slightly bigger one designed for older kids and then one entirely made of timber and wood that included a massive swing. Then there were private tennis courts and a crazy golf course and an all weather football pitch.

As we approached the bigger of the three kids playgrounds John commented, "Doesn't it all look so dead at this time of the day? I mean there's no one about."

I had to admit, for a massive park that on a weekend was bustling and roaring with visitors, tonight it was -as John described - dead.

"Creepy." I agreed before we spotted the metal climbing frame in the middle of the playground.

Sat at the foot of it, legs tucked up to his chest, chin resting on his knees was the huddled form of Sherlock, his curls sweeping his forehead in the low breeze and his long coat collar turned up over the top of a blue scarf. Tucked up at his feet was a brown and white bull dog with a lollipy but extremely cute face that was turned up to his master, eyes sparking admirably at Sherlock who was gently stroking the dogs ears and head.

When John and I entered the park the dog got to its stubby legs and looked at us.

I crouched and patted my knees, "Gladstone! Come 'ere boy!" I called.

Gladstone was well trained though and looked at his master first. Sherlock smiled and nodded, unclasped the lead, and Gladstone bounded up to me. As usual he went straight for my shoes, trying to attack them before I distracted him with my hand which he nuzzled and licked with his rough tongue. The folds of skin around his muzzle shook hilariously and I patted him down before scooping him into my arms and carried his toddler weight body back with me to where Sherlock was still sat. John was slowly getting to the floor as well.

I sat heavily, crossed my legs and placed Gladstone in my lap. He sat there, straight backed with his tongue flopping down onto his chin, brown eyes sparking. . . . until he saw my shoe again and began trying to eat it.