(I would assume so because Edgar Allen Poe died because of rabies)(Yes there was a mass panic over it accually I did some research.)

The captain glances over at Watson before turning back to the crew, "One of you go help him."
A well muscled sailor walks over to Dr. Watson, "Something I can help you with?"

John glanced away form the sailor and towards a random allyway. "That dog.... It about ran me over!" He repeated urgently. "Didn't look good. Wild eyes, foaming at the mouth...."

The sailor steps back looking worried, "Rabid dog? Sir I'd get to a doctor if I were you even if you weren't bitten or scratched. I'll go get an officer to deal with the dog."

Sherlock walks onto the ship without any trouble.

Watson decided it was best not to tell this person that he was, in fact, a doctor. "If you think so." He agreed instead. "Maybe let everyone else know to look out for it?"

The sailor nods once before pratically running away. By the body language you could easily tell he was not happy.

Watson let out a sigh and walked off to make himself scarce until Sherlock was done on his end.

After a few minutes Johnathan walks over to Dr. Watson. He was trying not to limp and his pant leg was badly torn by what looked like teeth, "I thought you were kidding about the dog."

John's eyes widened a bit in surprise. "I was." He stated, breifly examining his leg. The bleeding wasn't in dire need of a bandage, not before getting it propperly cleaned. "Sit down on that crate there, stay put. I need to go pester a few people for soap." He instructed before running off.

Jonathan does as he is instructed as the dog trots towards Dr. Watson. The dog was a tan English Mastive that was about three years old. Contary to Dr. Watson's desription though he wasn't wild eyed or foaming at the mouth. The dog looks at him and begs.

John took a step back and grimmaced, eyeing the canine. "I don't have any treats for you." He informed it.