Here we are at the third installment of KittenPressure. I can't tell you how much fun I've had with these crazy cats! And I'm gonna miss the heck out of them. Big thanks to maybeitsjustmytype for starting this whole thing with a photo on tumblr. Love ya Sweets. And to MizJoely for betaing the stories for me. (Though any and all mistakes are mine.) As always, you are so very good to me.

Okay, so I own nothing. Not Sherlock, not Cabin Pressure (even if some the pets mildly resemble the MJN crew.) I will, however, admit to 'borrowing' a bit of dialogue from M.A.S.H., one of the greatest sitcoms of all time.

Enjoy~Lil~

"Toby! Toby! Toby!" Martin yelled as he ran towards the older cat who was seated on the window sill gazing down at Baker Street below. He had been watching a pair of pigeons fight over what appeared to be the remnants of a falafel.

Toby turned and watched his young friend with mild indifference. "Stop shouting Martin. I'm not in the mood for your histrionics today."

"But Carol..." Martin started to explain frantically.

"What is it this time, hmmm?" Toby asked.

"A mouse came by today, Toby. Told her that her aunt's ill."

"Ahh, is she, now?" the tabby asked as he jumped down from his perch. "Let's do a little recap, shall we?" Toby walked up to the smaller, though almost fully grown cat and graced him with his most patronizing glare. "Last month it was her father dying, shortly before that her mother. Then mother and father dying. Three weeks ago her mother, father, and older sister dying. Later that week her mother dying and older sister pregnant. Last week older sister dying and mother pregnant. Sunday evening: younger sister pregnant and older sister dying. And then yesterday and frankly my favorite: half of the family dying, other half pregnant. It seems she's not even trying anymore... her aunt? I feel insulted." He started to walk away then turned suddenly. "Martin, why on earth do you even go near that cage? She does this to you every time, gets you all worked up. She's clearly lying to you, my boy." He studied his young friend for a moment. "You know, once was a time I thought you were an idiot."

"Hey, wait a..."

"No, that's just it, I don't anymore, not really. Yet you still fall for Carol's sob stories. Why is that?" Toby asked.

Martin looked around the room, he was suddenly very uncomfortable. Toby was the cleverest cat he'd ever met. He knew the older cat could tell when he was lying. His horrible secret was about to get out. They had been living at the new flat for two months and the guilt was killing him. He wasn't afraid of Carol anymore, he rather liked her, actually. She was still harsh and blunt, but she could be nice when she tried. Oh, he knew she was just trying to manipulate him into helping her escape, just like he knew she was always making up stories about her sick family. But frankly anything was better than feeling like the arse end of a Schnauzer in need of a wash. "I saw Sherlock okay!" he blurted out.

"What?" Toby asked.

"That day in our old flat... the day that Carol got caught. I was yelling at her, I saw Sherlock with the box and I knew what he was doing. I just kept yelling at her and didn't warn her or do anything to tell her that she was about to be caught." The ginger cat was out of breath by the end of his admission.

"Oh," Toby said, realisation washing over him. He was very fond of the young ginger, but there were days he wondered if he'd ever be finished 'raising' him. "Martin, this isn't your fault. Carol was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And besides, she's living in a warm flat with all the food she could possibly ever want or need. She's not running for her life from giant alley cats and stray dogs. I simply don't understand what she has to complain about." He nudged Martin's head with his own, a gesture he didn't dole out willy-nilly.

"I suppose you're right, Toby," Martin said, his head still hanging low.

"Don't let her get to you Martin. She'll get used to it, you'll see." Toby wondered off in search of his catnip ball.

Martin was curled up on the end of the sofa, still thinking about Carol and his ever-present guilt, no doubt. Toby, on the other hand, had just finished a pleasant bath and was napping in the worn-down chair that Molly still referred to as John's, though he couldn't understand why since she spent most of her leisure time curled up in it reading. His human was in the kitchen baking and humming, a trait of hers that he'd become used to, after some time.

Suddenly the flat door burst open and a smelly, drooling beast bound through followed by Sherlock. "Molly!" he yelled on his way to the kitchen.

Toby jumped up onto the back of the chair. "What the devil?"

The dog, as it turned out, made a beeline for Toby. "Hi! Hi! Who are you?"

Toby groaned internally. "I'm Toby. And I suppose you live here now?"

"Dunno, that man in the big coat brought me here. What is this place?" He looked around. "It's brilliant."

Toby, deciding that the animal was not a threat so much as in idiot, jumped back down to the seat of the chair. "My home, and you're not welcome here."

The dog looked confused. "Oh, that's too bad. It's rather nice."

Toby's keen hearing picked up on the argument coming from the kitchen.

"... to be kidding? A dog? We already have two cats and a rat."

"She's practically a mouse, first of all, and in a cage! So she doesn't count," he heard Sherlock argue.

"That makes no sense! What does her cage have to do with anything?"

"Just meet him, Molly. I know you two will hit it off!" Sherlock pleaded.

"NO!" Molly yelled. "No, because if I see him... just... no! Get him out of here!" He heard the bedroom door slam followed shortly by the bathroom door.

"That was lovely." Toby looked at... "What kind of dog are you, anyway?"

"The barky kind?"

"No, you imbecile. What breed?"

"Oh, well this is actually very interesting. My mother was a French Bulldog and German Pinscher mix and my father was part Swedish Vallhund and part Irish Terrier." The dog looked incredibly pleased with himself by the end of the explanation.

"Good Lord, my boy, you're a walking United Nations!" Toby said to the strange looking animal, though his parentage did explain his... well, he was a bit of an abomination. He was of medium build. His fur was at least five different colors and three different textures. His ears seemed to want to lie down and stand up at the same time, as if they couldn't make up their mind. His snout, thankfully, had not taken on the characteristics of his mother's French ancestry. His was... well, it was long-ish, though not the least bit well-formed. "Okay, this is a problem. Stay put."

Toby made his way over to the settee where he'd no doubt find Martin hiding. He had to think of a plan. If Molly laid eyes on the hideous beast of a creature, she'd keep him in a heartbeat. "Martin!" he called out, but got no response. "Martin, it's perfectly safe. The dog is more docile than a guppy."

The ginger cat poked his head out from under the piece of furniture, very slowly. "H-he's not g-gonna hurt us?"

Toby rolled his eyes. "No, though he may annoy me to death. Listen, we've got big problems. Sherlock and Molly are fighting and if she takes one look at that mutt, he's here to stay. We need a plan."

"What can we do?" he asked as he emerged fully and looked cautiously at the dog, who appeared to be licking his... oh my!

"We're intelligent animals, Martin. Surely we can find a way to discourage our humans from keeping that... that... thing."

Martin watched as the dog rolled over onto his back and try to scratch an unreachable spot. "I dunno. If he's harmless, why can't he stay?"

Toby sighed. "Because we live in a moderately sized flat in Central London, Molly seems to understand that, even if her life-partner doesn't. There's no space and Sherlock's not responsible enough to take care of an entire dog."

Martin stepped forward. "I want to meet him first."

Toby jumped into his path. "Plan first, Martin."

"No! I want to meet him and then decide if we make them get rid of him."

Toby knew he was in trouble. Martin had a softer heart than Molly, if that was possible.

The small cat slowly made his way up to the strange looking dog. "H-hi, I'm Martin."

The dog turned and give Martin a sort of lopsided smile, or maybe that was because of his ill-formed mouth. "I'm Arthur Pendragon."

Toby, who was following behind the younger cat, stopped and laughed. "Sorry, your name is Arthur Pendragon?"

"Yes, that's what my human called me. He was a strange one, but he was kind to me."

"What do you mean, he was strange?" Martin asked.

"Well, maybe strange is bit harsh... He loved to read. He read all the time. He was obsessed with stories about the Knights of the Round Table and Camelot and the like. I suppose he found a girl who looked like Guinevere, or so he thought. He had her in our basement. Then there was a bunch of shouting and a loud bang. She's fine. I saw a short blond man helping her out. Then he was talking to that coat man. The coat man explained how my human was completely off his nut, I think he said. I reckon a police man shot him, though he wasn't dead when I saw them carrying him out of our house. I've always wanted to be a police dog..." he trailed off, looking into the distance.

Martin turned to Toby. "He's homeless!" He looked back to the dog then to again Toby. "He has to stay, he's been traumatized!"

"He's not traumatized, he's just stupid! And there's no room! Molly's got enough on her plate, she doesn't need a dog to take care of on top of everything else!" He motioned with his head for the smaller cat to follow him to the kitchen, which Martin did, with some reluctance. "We have to convince them that we're in danger or that the dog frightens us... something like that."

"No! No more lies. I feel guilty enough for what I did to Carol. If Arthur likes it here, then he stays. I'm not scheming with you Tobs! And what do you mean on top of everything else? What's going on?"

Before Toby could think to answer the bedroom door opened and Molly came out frantically running to the bathroom. She banged on the door with her fist. A towel-clad Sherlock suddenly appeared then Molly pushed him out of the way and slammed the door behind her, leaving him in the hallway.

Toby sighed. "See what I mean? Molly doesn't need this right now!"

"See what? What am I seeing?"

Sherlock stood by the door and the cats moved closer.

Shortly thereafter, Arthur joined them. "What are we doing?" he whispered.

"Waiting for Molly to come out of the bathroom," Martin answered.

"Then for all hell to break lose," Toby added.

"Why? Because she's pregnant?" the new addition asked.

Both cats turned and looked at the graceless creature.

Toby studied the dog. He was completely shocked. "You know?"

"The coat man mentioned it on the way here. She doesn't know that he knows. That seems a bit not good if you ask me, which no one ever does. He said he wanted his child to have a dog. He had a dog, you see, told me all about him. An Irish Setter, named Redbeard. He sounded lovely. Wish I could have met him."

Toby and Martin looked at each other. When Martin finally spoke it was a whisper, "A baby."

"Yes Martin. A baby. It's what I've been trying to tell you. Molly doesn't need more to worry about..."

"But, Sherlock said he wanted his child to have a dog. What he wants should matter too."

The older cat turned and looked at the ginger. "You want to live here... in this one bedroom flat with another cat, a small rat, a dog..." He turned and looked at Arthur. "...Ish thing and a baby along with our humans? You think that sounds like fun?"

Martin thought for a moment. He looked at Arthur; his ghastly face was so happy and of course, drooling. He thought of Carol; though she constantly tried to trick her way out of her cage, he knew deep down she was part of their family. Then he thought of Toby. Toby was his brother, his best friend and he loved him, dearly. Now there'd be a new human in the house. He was suddenly very excited.

"Yes, it does sound like fun," he proclaimed.

Just then the bathroom door opened and Molly stepped out. "So, I assume you've figured it out?"

"Of course," Sherlock answered.

"Well? Are you kicking us out? Are we being replaced by that..." She looked around Sherlock and finally saw Arthur. "Oh God, it's hideous... I love it!" She started crying.

Sherlock immediately wrapped his arms around her. "No, you silly woman! I didn't bring Arthur here as a replacement. I wanted our child to have a dog!" he said as he rubbed her back.

Molly sniffled. "Really? So, you're okay? You're happy?"

Sherlock pulled back. "Extremely." He kissed her forehead.

Molly looked down at the small group of animals in the hallway. "We already have a full house, Sherlock. And it's about to get fuller."

He smiled and took her hand. "That's fine. I've been alone most of my life, Molly. I'm rather enjoying this odd little menagerie we've put together." He led her into their bedroom.

Toby turned to Arthur. "Well, she's seen you now. You're going nowhere."

"Oh, that's brilliant! This place is brilliant!"

The older cat rolled his eyes and started to walk away until he heard the bedroom door open again.

"No, no!" Molly was carrying Carol's cage. "I love her, Sherlock but I can't do that with her in the room!" She put the cage on the kitchen table, then skipped back into the bedroom and shut the door.

The cats both jumped up onto the table, next Carol's cage. "What the hell's going on? One minute Molly was crying and screaming, now they're... well, I'm here so, you can do the math." She looked from Martin to Toby. "What, why are you two looking at me like that?" That's when she saw Arthur. "Oh, dear Lord... what's that?"

"It's a dog, Carol," Toby replied. He was starting to enjoy himself.

"Is it? It only vaguely resembles a canine. Why is it here?"

"He's ours, he lives here now," Martin explained.

The dog put his paws on the table top and looked at the small rat. "Hi, I'm Arthur Pendragon."

Carol looked at Toby. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, it's not. Isn't it brilliant?" he said.

Thanks so much for reading. Please tell me what you think! Much love to you all! ~Lil~