John finished his breakfast and tidied up the dishes, leaving the bowl with water in case she got thirsty. He threw the pills she'd left in the trash and disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back out the dog was busy retching all over the carpet.

"Oh, no. No, no, no." Without thinking, he stepped forward to guide her onto the wood and Shirley darted behind the kitchen table, leaving a second pile of slimy, undigested egg there. The look of horror on her face only made him sigh.

"Nevermind," he said. "My fault."

He should've known better than to give her a giant helping. Small, plain portions until she built back up to the proper weight. He certainly hoped he'd won her over by then. She was strong now. He hardly wanted to imagine what their little scuffle last night would've been like if she'd been in good condition. As it was, his stomach was covered in scratches.

Once that was all cleaned up, he took a shower, shaved, and got dressed. He briefly considered trying to take Shirley out with him to get her collar, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He didn't want to overwhelm her and going out into the middle of London was sure to do just that. Besides, what if she slipped the lead while they were out? She clearly knew how and if she managed it outside he'd never catch her. There was also a very good chance he wouldn't even be able to get the leash back on her in the first place. Hold on. How was he supposed to get her out to go to the bathroom?

John glanced around the apartment and sniffed. It'd been nearly twelve hours since they'd gotten back and she hadn't been out once to relieve herself. Surely there'd have been at least a puddle by now. Frowning, John scooped up the leash and muzzle. Shirley growled from behind the unused chair, but John merely set them both on the table and headed out the door, locking it behind him.

He was almost outside when Mrs. Hudson popped out of her apartment and stopped him.

"John? Where are you going?"

"Just out." He cleared his throat. "To the store."

Her face lit up. "Oh wonderful. It's about time you got yourself out of the house." He gave her a tight smile. "Will you pick me up some milk while you're there? I've nearly run out."

"Oh, uh. No a pet store," John corrected, scratching the side of his face.

"The pet store? Whatever for?"

"I, uh, got a dog. Aaaand, don't go upstairs. She's not used to new people yet."

John was expecting to be scolded for bringing an animal into the apartment without her permission. He certainly wasn't going to mention that he'd lost his keys in the process. But Mrs. Hudson smiled and hugged him. Well, this was…nice. Unexpected, but nice.

"Good for you, dear." Then she pulled back. "Is that what all that noise I heard was? I just thought you'd had someone over for the night."

"No. Nope." John quickly shook his head. His cheeks were burning.

"Well, I'll let you get to your shopping," she said, releasing him.

She smiled all the way back to her apartment and John rushed out the front door. The first place he went was the vet, but they didn't have his keys. He went to the cab company, but couldn't remember the car number and hadn't caught the driver's name. They said that they'd look into it for him and he left his cell number in case they found anything. He left feeling frustrated and the pet store didn't exactly lower his blood pressure.

There were dozens of choices for collars and tags and countless varieties of food. He was in there for a good hour before one of the workers caught him reading the back of a dog food back with a wolf on the front and asked if he needed anything. Slightly embarrassed, he explained his situations (leaving out certain details of course). New dog. First time owner. She was big, bit shy, and skinny. Did he have dog bowls for her? No. Collar? No. What about toys? He wouldn't want her to chew the furniture when she got bored, would he? He certainly wouldn't.

Another hour later he left the store with bags full of bones, a bed, a pamphlet on positive training techniques, bowls, squeaky toys, food, a leash, and a leather collar with his name and address etched into a plate on the back. The woman had advised him not to put Shirley's name on the tag. Someone could use it to lure her away or even sell her to some unsuspecting family who thought that just because they knew her name she wasn't stolen. John refrained from mentioning the fact Shirley would sooner chew the thief's hand off than willingly be taken anywhere. His last stop was the grocery store to get Mrs. Hudson her milk, which she was very grateful for.

When he got back into his apartment, a white blur streaked across the floor from the bathroom. The toilet was still flushing, tap running. He nearly dropped the bags he was holding. What in God's name? This was beyond weird. Somebody had to be playing a joke on him. They'd probably turned the water on and Shirley had gone in for a drink, tripping the toilet flush in her rush to escape. Heck, she could've turned the faucet on herself. That was certainly more likely than a stray dog using the toilet.

.:…:.

He set her dog bed in her favorite hiding spot behind the unused chair. The bowl of water was replaced with two, shiny steel ones. He put a cup of kibble in one with a packet of bullion and a small bit of water. A fresh round of pills found their way into the stew. Shirley watched from her dog bed with what could only be described as disgust. He was hardly surprised by her growling when he took out the new collar. Not even bothering to try and wrestle it on her, John set the collar and leash into the china cabinet by the front door. Shirley eyed it warily, but when she looked back at him he saw confusion mingling with the suspicion.

After dinner, John settled onto the couch and turned on the telly. At first, Shirley skittered into her second hiding spot in the kitchen, but after a while, she slunk back into the living room. John watch her grab her bed and drag it around to the opposite side of the chair. He smiled, rolling his eyes. She was certainly clever, if a little stubborn. Okay, a lot stubborn.

The two of them sat that way for a couple more hours before John dragged himself off the couch and went to bed. The dog bowls were still full when he got up the next morning.