Summary: Sherlock is allowing John's possessions to be moved into the flat. The only problem is that Mycroft lied about how many things there would be.


Sherlock was going to choke Mycroft with his own stupid umbrella the next time he tried to get into Baker Street. Oh, John has a minimum of boxes, he said. It would not be in the way, he said. From his position on the sofa, Sherlock glared at the last few boxes brought in by his brother's minions. There was an annoying amount of toys, food and other nonsensical mess. Now Baker Street looked it somebody made a mess during a robbery and the robber didn't know what to take. God, he knew he should have never been intrigued by John.

His story was just interesting for a tiny thing but that was all. The trailing behind him as he walked around the flat was annoying. The only reason the unwanted attention stopped was that some of the minions knew John. John's floppy ears would perk up at any recognizable face. He would limp over to paw at a pant leg or nudge a bare leg before giving a big doe eye look. Even the most burliest of Mycroft's minion got a sickeningly soft look in the face and gave John a pat on the head or messed with his ears.

Sherlock hated it. He waited until the last of annoying invaders left before giving a John a perturbed look. This friendly behavior had to be stopped. It would force him to interact with the other idiots walking down the street. Sherlock found it annoying enough that John tolerated Mycroft.

"Once again, you are too friendly John. My brother's minions or not people for you to get free affection from. The limp is not real. Stop that."he said, watching as John stopped mid-stride by the sofa.

John turned his head to look up at Sherlock and gave an annoyed glare. As if to say, 'Like I don't know that, genius.'

Sherlock was affronted by the look and the growling huff that followed it. Huh, apparently he had to get the only puppy in London with an attitude. He rolled his eyes and went back into his prayer position, the conversation deemed boring. John rolled his eyes and went to going back his previous destination. It took him longer than he liked to get to the box labeled 'TOYS'. He sniffed and pawed at the cardboard box for a few seconds, scenting it as his.

With a pained grunt, John used his right paw to attempt to push the box went on for a few minutes before he noticed the taped top. John looked up at the box and then to the nearest armchair in disdain. With a wounded shoulder and his hurting back leg, there would be no jumping for a while. This would require a bit of help. Sherlock did help him yesterday in the kitchen after all, setting him on the table as he worked. Maybe he could get Sherlock to do it again.

Too busy in his own head, Sherlock was going over all the ways that Mycroft would pay. He could go and poke holes in all his umbrellas in the stupid posh flat of his. Or, he could replace them with Paddington Bear umbrellas just to make his point. John's boxes took up at least a quarter of the living room. It would be so tedious to remove and place everything in an adequate place, not to mention throwing out the boxes too. Maybe if he was extra nice, he could get Mrs. Hudson to take the boxes in the unused bedroom. Though that did bring another problem as John couldn't maneuver any kind of stairs until the wound healed.

A loud bark startled him out of his thoughts at being so loud in his ear. Opening his eyes, grey eyes found big blue ones in his vision. John stared at Sherlock and leaned forward, nudging Sherlock's cheek with his nose.

"What is it, John? You don't have to go to loo, do you? We can't leave the flat right now. The earwig experiment is at a delicate stage right now." Sherlock stated, blinking in slight surprise as John shook his head.

The puppy let out a whine before turning his head to look at the box of toys. Sherlock followed John's gaze and noticed the box. Letting his gaze come back to John, he couldn't help but smirk at the expectant look he was given. John was much smarter than he had assumed. Though it seemed that he was moving too slow as John nudged his cheek once more. Sitting up, Sherlock let out a huff of a laugh as John went to sit by the box. John was truly an intriguing specimen. He walked over to the mantle of the fireplace first to grab his letter opener before coming to the leather armchair near the box. He turned the box onto its side before slitting it open carefully and pulling back the flaps to let all the toys spill out.

Sherlock couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at the abundance of squeak toys and rope. A note floated out from the top of the box. Frowning, Sherlock picked it up. There would so much violin torture for Mycroft that he would make his ears bleed. There was only so much he could take and just to spiteful, Sherlock wanted to throw the whole box in the trash. Yet, he already knew that would probably be a bit not good and John would be upset.

Ignoring John's whines for his attention, he scanned the note for all the important points. He was to take over John's training and make it something useful to him. The toys would also help with his physical therapy. Boring.

"Your obviously keen senses could be relevant for a case one day. Your nose would be good for following runaway criminals. Nor would I have to take the skull out to take to during a case." Sherlock muttered, watching John as he crumpled and threw the note on the floor.

John had scrambled back as the toys tumbled out, his tail wagging so hard that it shook his whole body. He sniffed around all his favorites before making his way to Sherlock. The limp was nowhere in sight as he butted the detective's leg in thanks. He didn't bother to wait for a response as he went to his toys to bring Sherlock his most favorite one. It was a squeaky toy scalpel with camouflage designs on it. John held it his mouth and dropped it in front of Sherlock's feet. He sat down and wagged his tail eagerly, giving his detective a playful look. Sherlock's face could almost be considered as confusion. It really didn't take a genius to figure out what John wanted.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the normality of it all and reached down to take the toy. John surprised him for the second time today by snapping the toys up in his jaws. He hobbled back, careful of his shoulder and let out a playful growl. Sherlock was sure that there was knowledge of puppies playing in such a manner. He would look up everything about puppies later on. He went to grab the toy again and John pulled back again, biting down on the toy. A loud squeak filled the air as John held on fast.

"I suppose you want me to chase you, John?" Sherlock said in an uninterested manner, not oblivious to the small smile working its way onto his face.

As he started to stand, John took off like a shot into the kitchen. His tiny claws scrambled for purchase on the tiled floors as he ran. He bumped into a kitchen table's leg as he hid under it. He gave a few more playful growls as he settled down and gnawed on the toy, wary of Sherlock's movements. Sherlock watched in barely held amusement and slowly made his way into the kitchen.

The game was on.