[ Such comfort of the senses would likely be well-received had John not been a starving, confused animal. He seems to take no notice of the heavy microscope in Sherlock's hand, but licks his lips, beginning to circle and draw nearer. He makes a short lunge for him, hungry jaws snapping at Sherlock's ankles and giving him a nice view of how big his teeth truly had gotten when his lips curl back in a vicious snarl.
He pauses, however, and catches the scent of something.. else. Something smaller. Perhaps easier to catch. Something fluffy and quaking underneath the sofa. Still with its yellow eyes sharp on Sherlock, the wolf draws back, slinking toward the sofa, which, from underneath, comes the hiss of a cat. ]
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He pauses, however, and catches the scent of something.. else. Something smaller. Perhaps easier to catch. Something fluffy and quaking underneath the sofa. Still with its yellow eyes sharp on Sherlock, the wolf draws back, slinking toward the sofa, which, from underneath, comes the hiss of a cat. ]