"John."

"No."

"John, pleeeeeaaaase?" Sherlock begged.

"Sherlock, no." John huffed.

"But look at his face!" Sherlock argued, holding up the puppy, who licked him on the nose. He handed him to John, who could feel himself beginning to soften.

No.

The energetic Irish Setter wiggled in John's arms and he set him down, smiling a farewell at the woman who worked at the shelter as he grabbed Sherlock's arm to pull him out. Something in his friend's expression made him falter for a second.

Sherlock's green-blue eyes were filled with a sense of wistfulness and a rueful smile tugged at his lips.

"Come on, Sherlock," John urged.

He let John pull him away before speaking.

"I had a dog like that. His name was Redbeard."

"Yeah? What happened to him?" John asked, hailing a cab.

Sherlock frowned. "I...I can't seem to recall."

They got in, and drove back to Baker Street.

John was lost in thought as they walked to their flat door, snapping out of it when Sherlock huffed in annoyance.

"See this? The knocker's been straightened again. I'm telling you, Mycroft has OCD!"

He flung the door open and hollered his brother's name.

"Oh, he's just left," Mrs. Hudson informed.

Sherlock pounded up the stairs muttering to himself. John shook his head and followed.

January 6th

"Hello, I was wondering if that little reddish puppy is still there?" John asked, fidgeting with his fingers.

"Yes, he is. Are you looking into adopting him?"

"Ah, yes," John sighed. He didn't mind dogs, he just wasn't sure he wanted one wandering around 221b Baker Street.

The woman returned with the puppy in her arms and handed him to John.

"You're welcome to play with him for a while, then I'll have you fill out some forms."

"Alright, thank you."

He sat cross legged in the designated play area and watched the puppy. He's cute, he thought, smiling, and got up to fill out the forms.

Sherlock frowned, noticing John was gone. He'd been dissecting things all morning, and thought John was with him. Who had he been talking to then?

It was his birthday today, and normally, he hated it and never made a big deal. But this year he had John! Sherlock was thinking of ordering some take-out and watching crap TV after spending the day solving crimes together.

But John wasn't there.

Oh well, he thought, a little disappointed.

Just as Sherlock began to set an eyeball aflame, there was a loud thump and John staggered in.

"Hey, Sherlock," he said excitedly.

Sherlock set down his blowtorch and looked at his friend.

"Yes, John?"

"I have something for you!"

"I told you, I don't need anything," Sherlock replied as John led him to the couch.

"Well, you'll like this. Trust me. Now, shut your eyes."

"What? Why?" Sherlock sputtered.

"Just do it."

He did as told, and when he opened them, Sherlock found a very large box with a ribbon on top. Something pushed the lid off and the mini-Redbeard poked his little head out.

"Ohhh," Sherlock crooned, taking the puppy out. "You got him for me?"

"Yep. Happy birthday!"

Sherlock smiled, a true, genuine one and enveloped his friend in a hug.

"Thank you, John."

He pulled back and held the puppy up.

"Aren't you such a good boy! Who's a good boy? You are!" he squealed to the puppy.

John just smiled and watched his sociopath of a friend cuddle the puppy, glad he'd made the right decision.