Why was Sherlock locked up in his room for the night? He never sleeps. He really doesn't do much but think. His mind palace as he would call it but John would occasionally hear small pattering feet. It didn't take him long to give in to his curious habits.
That evening, John returned to the flat with milk and bread. He found Sherlock curled up into the couch and saw that he wasn't moving an inch exept his chest heaving. He figured he was asleep buy before he could reach the chair, Sherlock mumbled something.
"Brought milk?"
"Yes, and bread." John responded before sitting down carefully and opening up the news paper. He quickly glanced over the newspaper and looked at Sherlock standing and lazily walking to the kitchen. He seemed more tired lately. Even worse before he brought the groceries home. He had to bring two gallons instead of one now. It never troubled him but the fact that Sherlock is drinking more milk worries him.
Sherlock uncapped the milk and began walking towards his room with it which made John stand suddenly. "Sh-Sherlock? Where are you going with the whole gallon?"
"To my room, obviously. I need to take it to my mind palace." There he goes again, into his room and locking his door. John placed the paper down and sighed. He removed the phone and watched the time.
8:46
John let out a sigh and looked up and then the telly. Sherlock was awfully silent in that little room of his and it began to worry John as he slowly gripped his phone. "Sherlock," John called out with an unsure tone. He began to walk silently towards his door and leaned closely, ear touching the wood. He still heard pattering and then liquid dropping but maybe a few slurps. The noise made John hum to himself, trying to hear the noise correctly. "Sherlock. Do you want to see the news on the telly with me? Maybe there's a-"
"You know I don't solve cases in the night. I have breaks so I can solve the cases I get in the morning." His voice was heard from the other side. It sound impatient but John knew Sherlock was trying to dismiss him and he wasn't going to back down easily.
"Come on Sherlock," John said in a slightly playful tone and began knocking quietly. "Come out of your room and read over some cases with me." He tried his best to encourage him as he slightly turned the knob but it was stuck.
"John, no. I have already told you. I don't come it of my room during the night. Now would you please leave me to my thinking?"
"Sherlock, enough. No more games. Either you let me in," John sucked in a breath as his shoulder got ready for a nasty impact. "Or I will force myself in."
"Bloody hell! If I could, I would've unlocked it but now I can't."
"And why the hell is that?"
"Because I'm too short!" Sherlock finally shouted. He began walking across the room, seeing the large furniture and jumping up into the bed. He looked around and placed his paw against the key. He took the key in his mouth before leaping down the bed.
"Too short? Sherlock the knob is up to your hip." John couldn't believe what he was saying but he HAD to clean his ear slightly before pressing his ear against the door. He heard slightly scratching on the door before he felt something hit his toes.
"There's the key. Unlock the room and for god sakes," Sherlock said with a slight sigh in his voice until it dropped to a serious tone. "Do. Not. Laugh." Sherlock took a few steps backwards until he was far enough to let the door open and not hit him. He bowed his head to look at his paws and felt nervousness pooled down his belly. He wasn't ready to show John because he didn't know what was going on with himself.
John bent over and took the key, bending back up to slide it into the keyhole and twisting it until he heard a click. Steady hands turned the knob and pushed the door open. His eyes peeked in and at first didn't see anything but when he look towards the floor, he saw a kitten with dark fur and light blue eyes looking at him. John didn't know how to react to this. He placed his hand over his mouth and stifled a laugh. When Sherlock called his name, or heard his name but didn't see his mouth move, he broke down and starting laughing the hardest.
"John enough!" His voice growled and John stopped to look at him once more. His hand made it up to the kittens fur and began stroking it softly.
"How is this possible. You? A kitten? This explains why your always locked up in your room at night." John smiled as he began to lift Sherlock with two hands as if he were fragile. "Just look at you-"
"If you say 'cute', I will scratch your bloody eyes out."
"I'll cut your nails..."
"You can't do the job while your blind."
"I'll have your brother do it then." John chuckled as he began petting the kittens head and hearing him purr. "Come on, Sherlock," John said quickly as he brought him slowly to the living room. "Lestrade wants us to be at a scene." John took his coat with one hand and began walking out until he felt Sherlock nibble at his hand. "What?"
"Have you not heard what I just said? I can't leave with everyone looking at me."
"They won't think it's you. I'll just tell Lestrade that I am willing to help and that you are sick." John calmly told him as he began to put on his coat. Sherlock had a few moments to think until he actually agreed to him and nodded slowly. Sherlock leaped from his hand to his coat pocket and stuck his head out. John laughed as he began to walk down the stairs. "From 'cool' to 'cute'. How is that possible?"
"My kindness it very thin, John."
"Don't worry about me, Sherlock. Do not run loose because if the pound catches you, your going to have to tell one hell of a story."
"That's why it won't happen."
"Right..."
-
John arrived at the flat that was crowded with policemen which seemed to alarm Sherlock because when he saw them, he quickly ducked his head inside of John's pocket. No wonder! Here comes Lestrade.
"John? Where's Sherlock." Lestrade shook John hand and heard Sherlock hiss from his pocket. Johns hand quickly went to his pocket and rubbed it softly. Lestrade took notice to the hiss and tilted his head slightly.
"Do you have a cat in there?" He asked in the most confused voice. John looked at him, eyes widened and slowly nodded, not sure of what he should say.
"Uh," He cleared his throat before countinuing. "Yeah... Sherly is the name." John was unsure what to name Sherlock and when it slipped out of his mouth, he covered it as he heard Sherlock his once more. He gave him a female name? What the hell, John.
"Oh... Are you willing to help?"
"Let's get this done." John quickly told him as he followed Lestrade into the building where there was a dead body in the middle of the room.
"Sherly?" He heard Sherlock whisper in his pocket and placed his hand on top once more. Lestrade send him into the room the victim had been murdered.
"Five minutes before forensics continue."
"That's all I need. Thanks."John dismissed Lestrade quickly before he left them alone. John dug his hand inside of his pocket and remove Sherlock. Immediatly, he pierced his skin with his sharp fangs and leaped down.
"The bloody hell what that for?"
"Sherly? I'm not a woman, John." Sherlock rolled his eyes and began looking at the woman. John kneeled down and inspected her swollen and marked neck. He then began looking behind her ears and her fingers. Nothing. He sighed and shook his head.
"I couldn't find another name," He mumbled as he began to stand on his feet. "Cause of death: Strangulation. Can't find anything."
"Of course you can't. Even as this... Animal... My observing skills has not faltered." Sherlock was now able to see more things that humans missed. He even found things useful. Sherlock closed his eyes and exhaled, putting some of the small clues together.
"Your not an animal, Sherlock. You a kitten. A gentle creature."
"Gentle? Pfft!"
"It's true-"
"Quiet. Lestrade's returning." Sherlock alarmingly whispered as he began running towards John. As Lestrade opened the door, Sherlock leaped into John's hands and began pretending to playfully rub his head against Johns chest and purring. John, who blushed for a moment, looked down at Sherlock and back at Lestrade.
"I haven't thought of anything but i will inform Sherlock of every detail so that he pay put this together." John explained to Lestrade before placing Sherlock neatly in his pocket and smiling.
"Take good care of Sherly, John. I am fond of cats."
"I will." he said almost bursting into laughter. He heard Sherlock groan in embarrassment and his smile expanded. "Goodnight, Lestrade."
"Night."