Squish.

Joan stopped dead in her tracks as she stepped in something soft and squishy.

No…no, please no.

"Sherlock!" Joan screamed, her tone demanding his presence immediately.

Sherlock's attention ripped from the file in front of him and directed itself toward Watson's cry from downstairs. He stood, grabbed the drool-covered tennis ball beside him, descended the stairs, and entered the kitchen, tossing the ball toward the puppy in the archway. He smiled as Miller caught it mid-air, this action bringing up the realization that Miller was growing up…fast. He turned his attention toward Joan, his smile dropping from his features as her cold, icy glare pierced through him.

"Watson?" Sherlock stepped back to protect himself from an attack, seeing as Joan looked like she would kill.

"Have you potty trained him yet?" She growled.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side. "Yes, I told you it was going well."

"Well, apparently not as well as you'd think." Joan looked down at her feet and gagged.

Sherlock followed her gaze, finally realizing the source of her anger. "Oh…" He gawked, not knowing what else to say. He couldn't say he was sorry, that wouldn't help. He couldn't make a snide remark, knowing that would just result in a hard slap across the cheek.

"Oh? That's all you can say is 'oh'?" Joan closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Once she thought she had her frustration under control, she reopened her eyes. "Clean it up."

"But the case-"

"Clean. It. Up. Now." She demanded, her eyes narrowing. "I'll be in the shower." Joan hopped to the bathroom around the corner, saving the floor from her messy foot. As she rounded the corner, a certain puppy blocked her path, whining loudly. "Out of my way, dog."

Miller sulked away, whining with sad eyes.

Joan watched him go, feeling a pang of sadness sting her heart. She was about to call out after him and tell him she forgave him, but she knew the way to train a puppy was to praise him when he did something good, not praise him for bad behavior.

Joan hopped into the shower, spending the majority of her time cleaning and disinfecting her foot.

Sherlock looked over at the puppy cowering in the corner, whining as he looked on at the bathroom door. He crossed the floor and knelt down by the puppy. "Don't worry, Miller. I've been in the doghouse before and for you it'll be easier to get out of. One look in those puppy dog eyes of yours and she'll melt into forgiveness. For me, on the other hand…well, not so easy." He stood, opening the cupboard under the sink, and retrieved a few puppy training pads. "Back to the drawing board, huh?"

Miller set his head between his paws and let out a sigh.

…

Joan dried her hair, ruffling it through a large blue towel, and flipped it back. She wrapped a towel around her torso, feeling clean and refreshed. She gathered her dirty clothes and creaked the door open. She looked out into the hallway, keeping an eye out for a certain consulting detective, before venturing upstairs. No matter how long she continued to share the Brownstone with Sherlock, she would never feel entirely comfortable about him seeing her in nothing but a towel.

Instead of seeing Sherlock, she saw absolutely nothing.

Odd, she thought. Joan tiptoed up the stairs, the cold hardwood flooring feeling like ice on her naked feet. She escaped to her room, shutting the door behind her. The Brownstone was quiet, too quiet. What in the heck were they up to?

Joan turned and sighed in relief. Nothing in her room, that means Sherlock had finally (she hoped) realized his boundaries. She changed into her clothes for the day and combed her hair with the small hairbrush hidden in her nightstand. The ex-surgeon prepared herself to walk back downstairs, nervous about what she'd find. The Brownstone was unusually quiet, meaning Sherlock either blew something up and left to save himself from the scolding, or he had gotten a case. She hoped the latter, but seeing as he hadn't barged into the bathroom to inform her of such a case, it seemed unlikely. That meant Sherlock had done something, she just hoped that it wouldn't result in having to fix anything or clean up a giant mess.

Joan opened her door and immediately forgot her worries.

Sitting just outside her door was Miller, a sign roped loosely around his neck, reading 'I'm sorry, please let me out of the doghouse…Forgive me?'

Joan bent down and picked the puppy up, groaning with the effort. She had forgotten just how big he had gotten since the night they got him. "Of course I forgive you, honey. I love you!" She cooed, kissing his head.

Miller perked up and began to excitedly lick her face.

Joan laughed and set him down. "But," Miller stopped wagging his tail, "if I step in another pile of poop, it will not be as easy to be forgiven." She scolded.

Miller licked her shin cautiously, not wanting to suffer her wrath.

Joan smiled and began to descend the stairs. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock appeared at the foot of the stairs, a large pile of potty pads stacked up in his arms.

Joan stopped and quirked an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

Sherlock smirked and jerked his head toward the kitchen. "I've found a way to make sure he never excretes on the floor again!" He bounded toward the kitchen, dropping a training pad in the process.

Joan followed, picking up the pad as she went. The sight was enough to make her instantly burst out laughing.

The whole kitchen was covered in pee-pads, the wood floor not visible at all. Pee-pads coated the floor, pads overlapping and guaranteeing a mess-free floor.

"Sherlock, as interesting as this is, it's not going to fix the problem of me stepping in his accidents…" Joan smiled weakly at the grinning detective.

His smile fell and he sighed. "I guess…"

"We just need to have him potty-trained, Sherlock, that's all. It'll take some work, but together we're sure to accomplish it." Joan linked her fingers with his.

"Together?" Sherlock's smile reappeared.

Joan nodded, pulling them both down to Miller's height. Joan and Sherlock sat on either side of Miller, their free hands stroking his glossy fur. "Together."

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I just haven't been feeling the inspiration to write it! Don't worry, though. This story will be ongoing, just random drabbles about our favorite trio ;)

Someone suggested I make this just like Marley and Me, but that movie made me cry and I will not kill Miller off. I promise!

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NEXT UP: LOST IN NEW YORK.