I apologize again for this being a shorter chapter than usual, I didn't get much time this week to work on my chapter but hopefully it's acceptable at least.

Thank you for all your support! I reached 100 favorites this week and I'm really excited. Plus I'm almost to 200 follows, too. You guys are so great.

Enjoy the next chapter.

I was cooking eggs for breakfast when you slumped in with the paper, slapping it down and planting yourself into a kitchen chair with all the energy of a door-hinge. "I thought Basenjis were supposed to be barkless dogs," You snarled, tilting your head to shout down at the pup underneath the table, idly sniffing your trouser cuffs. "Endless howling definitely counts as barking, especially if it's in the middle of the night. Isn't that right, Gladstone."

The dog wagged his tail, enjoying the extra attention.

"He's just getting used to the new house," I said. "He'll stop as time goes by."

"He had better stop now, or we're going to have some problems." You grumbled, unfolding the paper. "How am I supposed to sleep when there's a damn siren living in a box in my bathroom. I have cases to finish."

"Speaking of cases, you haven't seen many new clients lately, have you?" I transferred the eggs from the stove. "You've just been helping Greg."

"Yes. I put up a message on your blog that we wouldn't be seeing any new ones until further notice."

"...You did? But I changed my password."

"Passwords are hardly any trouble for me, John, I thought you knew that already."

"Is there no such thing as privacy?" I scowled, one of the plates in front of you. As I took a seat, I tapped the handle of my fork against the table to get your attention. "Put the paper away, Sherlock, and let's eat."

"Not hungry." You snuffed.

I folded my arms across the table and cleared my throat. You folded the upper half of the paper down to glare at me.

"I'm not in the mood for your little arguments this morning, John."

"Eat."

"And I assume if I don't eat, you won't either?"

"You've assumed correctly."

You grumbled, but set the paper down anyway and picked up your fork. "You could be less difficult, you know."

"And you could eat your own meals, you know." I took a bite.

"I do eat," You defended. "I just prefer not to make a regular habit of it."

"That's the problem." I swallowed and reached for my pill-bottle, which I had left out for this morning. Before opening, I rattled it. "There's only have a few doses left," I mentioned, shaking two of the little tablets into my palm.

"Schedule an appointment," You said through a mouthful of egg.

"I think I'll put it off as much as I possibly can," I countered, tossing them into my mouth.

"There we have it. You avoiding doctor's appointments, and I putting off meals."

"But you need to eat, that isn't optional. Doctor's visits are optional."

"They are both necessary, however."

I frowned, then took another bite.

"But in any case, here I am, eating. And you can call tonight." You tore off a chunk of egg and tossed it below the table.

"Fine, if you want me to."

"I want you to." You opened up the paper again and laid it out beside your plate. "I've been thinking about how to get in contact with our shadow car."

"Oh? Have you decided on anything?" I studied my plate with a disheartening lack of appetite.

"I have, but it involves several cabs and a fantastic amount of cabbage soup."

"I would rather not spend a fortune on cabbages, if possible." I stood up and took my plate to the sink.

"I'll keep thinking."

"Why don't you think while we walk to the pet store. There's one on Carter Street, just a few minutes' walk away. We need to buy Gladstone a collar and leash, and maybe a bed, too."

"Go yourself, I'm busy." You slurred, scanning over the paper.

"Are you joking?" I shifted my weight off my bad leg. "You're the one one who said I shouldn't go alone."

"The both of us going together would look suspicious."

"Suspicious?" I laughed, shaking my head as I walked to get my shoes. "Sod this, Sherlock, fine, I'll go by myself. Wouldn't want a couple walking together, it looks too suspicious."

"Take your dog, too. I can't promise I won't skin him if you leave him here."

I grunted, sitting down in my armchair and hunching over (with some difficulty) to tie my shoes. "Oh, by the way, don't forget about the party tomorrow. Don't get carried away with cases or anything. You are going."

"There's a party?"

"Yes. Anderson's Christmas dinner. Remember? The holidays?"

"It hadn't crossed my mind."

I sighed and went back into the kitchen for my pocketbook. "I'll be back."

"Keep your phone on you," You called, not bothering to glance up.

"Yeah, yeah, sure." I huffed, stooping down to pick up Gladdie, and headed out the door, taking my crutch as I passed.

The snow was still lingering on the streets, encouraged by the frigid December winds and dark overcast. My feet were swimming in all the slush and grime of the city in winter, the salt turning everything a nasty brown color. Gladdie, however, never noticed. He trotted proudly with his new red collar secured around his neck, the loop of his leash wrapped around my wrist. He was such an excited little thing, pouncing around like a cougar, stopping to sniff every blade of grass he passed by. I had to half-drag him most of the way back to Baker Street, but his size and innocent curiosity made it alright.

All of the walking was making my leg start to burn, though, and I wanted badly to get home and stretch it out, let it rest. I blamed the reoccurrance of the limp on my stress, but I was sure that the way I kept using it and pushing it wasn't exactly helping, either. I had grown more and more fatigued with each passing day, and sleep was becoming less and less helpful. The last time I had been on the medication my symptoms were not nearly as bad as they were now.

There was a small tug on the leash. "Keep up, Gladstone," I groaned, getting a little tired of him.

As I turned to glance back, I noticed the man. He stepped out from a café about a quarter mile back, his long black coat reaching to his ankles. His hat heavily shadowed his eyes, and a long pipe thrust out from beneath it, a small cloud billowing from his nostrils. He noticed me, as well, and turned on his heel toward me, beginning a steady pace.

My first thought was that he was one of Mycroft's people. He definitely had that look about him. But after seeing the shadow-car, I wasn't going to wait for him to catch up with me to ask. I hurried the dog along and kept moving toward the flat, hoping that he would disappear when I forgot about him, simply a stranger who chose to wear a dark coat on the wrong day.

Gladdie either thought it was a game or sensed that something was wrong, because he kept up with me, running and jumping and making short snuffling noises. I led him further down the street, glancing back momentarily to see if the man was there. He was. His pace had picked up as well. I panicked, momentarily.

But I tried to calm myself down and think of what you would do if it were you in this situation. I wasn't too far from Baker Street, but still far enough to be out of earshot. I thought about sending you a text, but would that look suspicious? I didn't want to look suspicious. I didn't want to make myself a target any more than I already had, a man with nothing but crutch and a pup, stumbling along a partially-deserted street. I cursed at myself for disregarding my pistol.

I hopped on down the walkway, keeping my pace brisk but not obviously so. The dog kept with me, zig-zagging down the path before me. As my heart rate sped up, the pain in my leg started to fade, and I sped up.

On a whim I took a detour, a short-cut to try to lose the man. I jogged through the crosswalk and ducked down a short alley, careful not to put myself off the street for too long. Gladdie panted like it was an adventure. As I turned the corner to Baker Street, I checked behind again to be sure no one had pursued me, and ran squarely headlong into another passerby.

"Oh, excuse m-" I froze, glancing up at the man, whose small eyes glistened at me from beneath the rim of his hat.

"Dr. Watson?" He took his pipe out from between his teeth, a small smile curling his lip. I took a step in retreat, but stopped when another man about the same size as the first approached from behind me. Gladstone sniffed at the hem of his trousers and snarled.

"I'm sorry about him, I'll just..." I knelt down and scooped up Gladdie, giving him an apologetic smile as I pulled him against my chest. "He's a spunky one."

I bolted, shooting off toward 221B faster than I could breathe, the dog pulled tight against my chest, my crutch forgotten. The men came after me, their heavy coats and lumbering frames giving me an advantage, but only a small one. I shrieked your name as I rushed at the door, yanking it open and nearly dropping Gladstone in the process, but the two men were at my heels, and I felt a hand graze past my neck as I slipped through the door.

Gladstone was howling hysterically, kicking at my arms, and I threw him to the floor to grab the closest thing to me: a spare crutch hanging from the coat-rack. I swung, catching one of the burglars in the side of the head and knocking him into the wall, toppling the rack. I kept screaming for you, backing up against the stairs as the second man approached, his teeth gritted and fist clenched around a small pocket-knife. I held the crutch out to keep him back, but he only smirked and lunged, grabbing the end and ripping it from my hand.

Fear rocketed through my veins and I turned, clinging desperately to the stairs, but I didn't make it far. The man seized my foot and twisted, jerking me backward. I couldn't catch myself in time. My head slammed into the corner of the stair, light scattering in all directions.

Blue jeans, white shirt, walked into the room you know you made me review.

Next update Sunday.