So far I think this is a one-shot... if people like it, I can keep going. Heck, if YOU want to keep going, just let me know.
I do not own Sherlock Holmes BBC. I do own Mayah. (I think)

Molly had always loved cats. Since she was a little girl, she had always lived with some stray cat that she or her mother had picked up. They weren't always particularly nice to her, but she grew on them, bringing the felines food, or not scolding them for throwing up on her plate in the middle of dinner. So cats seemed to love her as well.

Toby wasn't her first cat in her new flat. No, he was maybe the second, third, or... fourth? Molly lost count at June, who was third... so at least fourth. That seemed right to her. She got a cat maybe one or two weeks after moving in... sadly, Molly seemed to have an eye for sick or over-adventurous cats. Toby, however, was different. She adopted Toby from the shelter she volunteers at, he was in one of the new litters. She saw him, not as the runt, but the stocky little kitten that would get lost and end up sleeping in her handbag. She adopted him as soon as she could.

Sherlock Holmes hated cats. He always had, always will. He hated all animals though, cats the least, but he still didn't like them. Period. Or so he thought.

When Molly found out Sherlock hated cats last month, if possible, she liked him a little less. She would make him like cats, but she would also need a little help.

She pulled up in to her shelters parking lot and walked over to the side door. Only volunteers, (and Molly) were allowed to go through tis door. She quickly walked through the halls, like she would forget her plan if she didn't go fast enough. She stopped at the front desk, and the woman there, Jane, immediately knew who Molly needed to see. "MAYAH!" She shouted

Mayah quickly came around the corner, and peered through her thick glasses at her friend standing before her. "Molly! Nice to see yo- wait. Are you here to get another cat?"

"Yes. But not for me!" Molly answered with a smile.

"Then for who?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

Mayah was surprised. Nobody, not even Molly got Sherlock a gift. Yet alone a cat. Why did he want a cat anyway? He could get a rodent! They are so cute and helpless, and low maintenance, but somehow most people look down at them. Partly because they are small. "Um... follow me...?"

Molly knew where she was going. She walked in to the second room on the left, and was greeted with a chorus of meows. A full chorus of cats except for one cat in the corner. Baba.

Baba was a black, overly fluffy cat, who didn't make a noise. He had startlingly blue eyes, much like the detective she's getting a cat for. She immediately walked over to him and picked him up. He was extremely nice. Perfect for Sherlock's first cat. She brought him over to Mayah. "I'm going to take this one."

"Okay..." Mayah went to grab a carrier, thinking about how to get Baba into 221B.

After Baba was paid for, (it was extremely inexpensive for Molly), Molly put the carrier on Mayah's lap in the passenger seat. She grabbed her cell and dialed John's number. She had arranged to have John and Sherlock leave the house so she could put Baba there. John would leave for the store, and Sherlock would return home to find a cat in his home. Nobody answered the phone. Good, Molly thought, nobody's home. She pulled up and Mayah grabbed the carrier. The walked up the stairs, explained their plan to Ms. Hudson, who agreed to help, and released Baba in the flat. Mayah shut the door, and the women went to tea with the landlady.

Sherlock's cab pulled up to 221, and walked inside. He went up the stairs, and when he reached the door, he swore he heard a meow. Must just be the wind, he thought. He was too tired to notice that his door had already been open, and there were scratch marks on the bottom half of it. He wasn't too tired to notice the large cat.

Baba sat there, right at his feet, and meowed. Surprisingly, Sherlock smirked, picked him up, and immediately put him outside the flat, as if to make him disappear. It didn't work. Baba ran inside, and sat back down. After doing this a few more times, Sherlock decided to let this cat do what he wanted. He noticed that the cat's collar said BaBa. He pulled off the piece of paper, and replaced it with a keychain that had Terrence written on it in Sherlock's handwriting. This cat won't have an extremely stupid name like Baba.

"Terrence!" He called. The cat followed him into the kitchen where he was promptly fed some tuna that Sherlock had in the fridge.

Sherlock might actually like this cat.