"Well you can explain this to Mrs Hudson." John muttered as he messaged those very words.

The cow, Susan, as Sherlock so affectionately called it, was now leaning against the chair. Its was head stretched back in happiness. John scowled and was about to head into the living room when he heard the soft tread of footsteps coming up the stairs. The cow turned toward the sound, its bulbous eyes tracking him in vague curiosity.

"Don't go anywhere!" John warned the strange guest before dashing to the door and stopping Mrs Hudson moments before she entered the flat.

"Mrs. Hudson!" John forced a grin, leaning against the doorframe and intentionally blocking the door.

"Oh! Good morning John." She greeted with a sweet little smile. The tray of tea and biscuits were in her hand. "What are you doing up so early?"

John cocked his head curiously to the side, his expression turning to one even more confused. "It's afternoon." He informed her.

"You got in rather late last night. I thought you'd want to sleep a little more." She smiled sweetly, taking a step to the side as she once more attempted to enter the flat.

"Ah." John chuckled as he quickly stepped in her way. "So how are things with you?" He inquired.

Mrs Hudson's smile wavered. "I'm just fine, dearie." She nodded, still attempting to head into the kitchen.

John quickly blocked her again. "I haven't seen you . . since yesterday? How-how's the, um . . the . . ?" John forced a good natured smile.

Mrs Hudson looked him up and down, her eyes narrowed. "You're acting rather strange. Have you been drinking?" She once again tried to go into the kitchen.

John realized he had no good answer for that. "You know you don't have to go in there."

"I have to bring Sherlock his tea."

John smiled as he gently took the tray from her. "That's alright, I'll just take this."

"Oh!" Mrs Hudson let him take the tray.

With the sweetest smile he could give he held the tray. There was a loud THUNK from the other room.

"What was that?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

John quickly backed into the kitchen. "No need to worry Mrs Hudson everything is perfectly fine, we're all good up here thank you so much for the tea!" He smiled, the door slammed.

Mrs Hudson stood in the dark stairwell. "He's acting so strange lately." She shook her head as she headed back down the stairs.

"Just what have you done now!" John demanded of the bovine, the contents rattling as he near slammed the tray down on the counter before heading into the room.

The cow stood besides the knocked over chair, it's glassy eyes looking at it in boredom as it chewed on a mouthful of cud. It turned to John, shaking it's head, it's ears flopping back and forth and the bell around its neck sounding.

John ran a hand through his hair, picking up his phone and dialing another number.

"Hello, Greg?" John said as soon as the phone answered. "We may have a bit of a situation at Baker Street." John then proceeded to explain the situation. He had barely finished his explaining when the line went silent. "Are you still there?" He asked, answered by the hearty bellows of uncontrolled laughter.

"Well I'm glad you find this so funny." John grumbled.

The laughter died down and at last an out of breath Lestrade returned. "You can't be serious?"

"You were serious." Lestrade said several minutes later as he stood in the flat, looking at the cow who was contentedly sitting on the floor in front of the sofa.

It turned to the new guest, disinterested in the other biped that now ogled at it.

"How the hell did he get it in here?" Lestrade wondered aloud.

John shrugged. "I don't know, I just want it gone and he's not answering my texts."

"This isn't really . . my division." Lestrade mumbled as the cow began to run the side of its head against the carpeted floor.

"What exactly is your division?" John Watson snapped.

Lestrade shrugged. "Not . . not this." He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. "Where did he even get it at?"

Susan, John Watson almost found himself correcting his friend. He cleared his throat. "I don't care where it came from, I just want it gone."

"And Sherlock, he's not answering your texts at all?"

John shook his head. "Nope. He is not."

"Well is he in trouble?"

"Don't know. He just isn't answering his phone is all."

Lestrade sighed. "I suppose we should figure out where he went off to."

"Good idea." John nodded in agreement as he crossed his arms around his chest, standing resolutely beside the doorway.

"Lestrade?" A new voice called as its owner, a lanky fellow with floppy hair entered the apartment.

"Ah! Anderson!" Lestrade feigned a friendly smile as he ushered the man in. "I've got a job for you!"

Anderson's eyes widened as he spotted the large creature now residing in the flat at 221B. "Is that a-?"

Before he could utter another word, Lestrade patted him endearingly on the back. "This is Susan, I'm going to need you to watch her while John helps me with something."

"But-" Anderson stammered. If it weren't for Lestrade's seemingly friendly hand on his back holding him in place, he would have bolted from the flat then and there.

"Good! I'll see you in a few hours!" Lestrade nodded at John, who quickly grabbed his jumper and headed out of the room.

"But-" Anderson seemed incapable of uttering anything other than the same word over and over again like a broken record.

Lestrade stepped out of the room, but stopped in the doorway before beginning his descent down the stairs. "Make sure she doesn't make a mess." He advised Anderson before slamming the door shut behind him.

Anderson turned back to the cow, whose glassy marble eyes watched him with disinterested boredem

"But . . "