|dani_meows (dani_meows) wrote in bipolardanicats,|
@ 2011-12-10 15:57:00
Finding Pestilence (Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 10)
Title:Finding Pestilence (Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly 10)
Sherlock woke up, naked, tangled against his lover. He smiled as he remembered last night, making love to John for the first time.
That was when the phone rang and spoiled the morning.
An hour later, Sherlock had been very carefully not pouting when his phone had let him know that Lestrade had a case for him. He'd been grateful to leave. He knew that Mycroft had arranged for John to be the last minute speaker at a convention but he didn't want to watch John leave.
Of course, John would be here to look at the crime scene but Sherlock hoped to be distracted by a case when he left tonight.
A woman lay murdered on the floor, there were two entry points were locked, one of them was a secret passage... there were all sorts of details that didn't make sense. It was delightful.
John and Sherlock were re-examining the body, John had already disproved several of Anderson's theories even going as far to ask him if he was sure he'd earned a medical degree? Which just made Sherlock love John more.
That was when they heard it, the faint sound of whimpering. Sherlock went to investigate while John finished proving that the injection marks on her wrist were older than the cause of death by at least two days.
It was a kitten. A young Siamese kitten, probably, about six weeks old and just separated from her mother, only for her new caretaker to be murdered.
She allowed Sherlock to pick her up and stood on his hands, blinking curiously at him with blue eyes.
Sherlock very carefully allowed himself not to think that she was cute.
John came over having finally won the fight with Anderson.
“Aw, aren't you a cute little thing,” John cooed as he reached a hand towards the kitten. The kitten leaned into the hand, petting her and began to purr loudly.
He looked at Sherlock with wide dark blue eyes and Sherlock felt his heart stutter in his chest.
“No, John,” he said.
The kitten looked at him as well with eyes that were bright and innocent.
“Please,” John asked. The kitten merely curled up into Sherlock's hand and the part of his scarf that was down near it and took a nap.
Sherlock left the scene, still holding a napping kitten, and listening to John talk about how if they took her to a shelter she might get euthanized...
“Fine,” he said with a sigh, he'd known it was hopeless the second that both John and the kitten had looked at him with pleading eyes.
He set the kitten on John's shoulder, where she curled up, tiny claws catching the wool softly and continued her nap with a soft little snore.
“This is our cat. Her name is Pestilence or Pest for short.”
Now he would have two tiny tyrants ruling over him at home.
The smile that his lover gave him was worth it.