"Won't be a moment, I've got to see a man about a dog." Sherlock said as he sauntered away. John shook his head and resumed his breakfast. Really, who attempts to drug their flatmate with hallucinogens despite the fact they suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Oh wait, he was living with Sherlock bloody Holmes. Ah well, added a bit of excitement to life he supposed as long as there were no long term effects. If there were then he would have to have a stern talking to with the consulting detective. It was almost like he was dealing with a child really. 'No Sherlock, you don't do that to your flatmates' or 'Sherlock, you do not say that to children no matter how true it may be, or their parents will threaten to call the Yard and you know Anderson would jump at the chance' was all becoming routine. Still, it was rather unexpected when Sherlock returned with a wriggling bundle in his arms.
"And just what is that?" John asked as he turned to face Sherlock fully. Sherlock frowned,
"I informed you that I had to talk to a man about a dog. The man said it was an English bulldog. He said they made for excellent companions."
"I know what kind of dog it is Sherlock, I used to have one when I was a boy. But I thought you meant, I don't know, you had to shut down an illegal dog ring or something, not just go and buy a dog." John said with a gesture of his hand. Sherlock snorted,
"Well we both know that I can not make a good cuppa or anything of the sort and my other attempts to get back into your good graces have failed spectacularly so I figured this would be a good idea."
"Sherlock, a dog is a lot of responsibility, you actually have to take care of another thing and can't just ignore it." John answered exasperated.
"The skull never complains." Sherlock replied wryly. John sighed and closed his eyes,
"What about when we run off solving crimes? What then? Get your brother to watch it?" Sherlock chuckled,
"The thought of it relieving itself on everything in the Palace and on my brother is certainly a pleasant thought." Sherlock sighed and conceded,
"I am sure Mrs. Hudson wouldn't mind looking after him while we were out. But if you are that uncomfortable with taking care of another living thing then I will take him back. I just thought that you were doing fine job before." John shook his head,
"It's fine, it's all fine. I just wanted you to know what you were getting into before I got attached." Sherlock scoffed and handed the puppy over to John.
"Please, how hard could it be?"