I just revised this a bit and cleaned up some of my grammatical and spelling errors. Enjoy! Please R&R! :-D
Sherlock and Kitten Kaper
Pairing: Sherlock/John, pre-slash
Rating: PG
Part: 1 of ?
Disclaimer: I own none of the Sherlocks.
Secret Santa gift for the lovely Zoe, aka gryffindor-consulting-detective.
John sat in his usual chair reading by the fireplace, a fire roaring merrily away. He was wearing a white and red striped Christmas jumper taken from his seemingly endless collection. Sherlock hated the jumpers, saying they distracted him from his "brainwork", but despite his best efforts to find and eradicate said collection; he had been unable to. John was secretly very proud of this.
However, the jumpers were just a small speck in the pile of things currently annoying Sherlock. They had been without a case for a few weeks. Apparently, the criminals were sharing in the holiday spirit this year and not out committing crimes; much to Sherlock's and his fellow residents in 221B's dismay. Sherlock was now taking out his anger for lack of work on Christmas, itself.
The Christmas tree that John had bought had lasted approximately one evening, before Sherlock devised a chemical that burned off all the needles of the tree, leaving just the trunk and branches intact. The stockings had been hurled into the fireplace, along with most other of the decorations. The eggnog sat in the fridge seemingly innocent. But John knew Sherlock well enough to give that up for lost as well. However, John was a soldier and he knew how to wage war. He wasn't giving up on Christmas just yet.
Just as John was thinking about what he could possibly give to Sherlock that wouldn't be hurled back in his face, he heard a shuffling sound came from the hallway. Then Mrs. Hudson yelled, "Yoo hoo! Sherlock! John! Would someone be so kind as to get the door for me?" John flipped down his paper to look at Sherlock, who acted as if he hadn't heard her. He sat perched on the edge of his chair in front of the couch. As best as John could make out he seemed to be having a staring contest with the smiley face on the wall.
John rolled his eyes and yelled back, "Coming Mrs. Hudson." He winced as he stood, psychosomatic or not, his bad leg still twinged in the colder parts in December. He pulled open the door to reveal a very large cardboard box barely being held up by Mrs. Hudson. Instinctively, he grabbed the box and brought it in, and only when he set it down on top of the coffee table did he hear the small mewing and scrabbling sounds coming from inside. "What the? Did you bring us kittens?" He opened the box staring at the contents. "Why did you bring us kittens?"
"I found them in an alleyway. Someone just dumped them! I couldn't just leave the poor dears, especially not when it's starting to snow out there. And I thought that maybe Sherlock could…..you know." She glanced nervously over at Sherlock, who still hadn't moved. "I know you, two have been having a bit of trouble recently. What with the lack of cases and all. I thought that perhaps this could keep Sherlock busy for a bit."
John was about to say something skeptical, but Mrs. Hudson looked so hopeful. So he smiled and said, "Thanks Mrs. Hudson, I'll ask him. Really anything has got to be better than nothing and I know it's better than KILLING MY CHRISTMAS TREE!" He said the last part loud enough that it scared the kittens a bit and they mewed louder. Still Sherlock remained stoically silent. Mrs. Hudson looked from one to the other worried that she was going to witness another of their domestics. "Could you perhaps get us some kitten food and I don't know a couple kitten beds or something? How many are there anyway?"
Mrs. Hudson smiled, "Nine and I'll go out and get them stuff just this once. I'm not your housekeeper."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."
After she had left John turned to face Sherlock. Before he could say anything, Sherlock said with a scoff, "You want me to look at a box of kittens."
"Yes, it will give something to do other than-"
"No. It won't. Kittens get dumped all the time, especially near Christmas. Someone probably bought a cat for the child as a gift, didn't realize it was pregnant and dumped the kittens so they didn't have to deal with them. From the size of the box and its location, one can presume it was a man who dumped them. Location? How do you know the location? The only alleyway Mrs. Hudson goes down is the one behind her favorite antique shop to see if they have thrown away any 'treasures.' That shop is not close to a residential district…" Sherlock continued as John grabbed one of the kittens. It was small, spotted and had particularly striking blue eyes, that reminded him of the dectective.
He walked over and stood in front of Sherlock, who was still talking rapidly and held the kitten at Sherlock's eye level. It mewed softly, looking appropriately cute. Sherlock's gaze now broken with the smiley, he blinked and checked his watch. "3 hours and 22 minutes. Beats my previous record."
John gaped. "You haven't blinked in over THREE HOURS? Sherlock you can permanently damage your vision and ugh never mind, not like you would listen anyway." He thrust the kitten closer forcing Sherlock to take it and ran into the kitchen to find something soothing for Sherlock's eyes.
"I assure you, John, my eyes are quite fine. They can take this sort of strain easy." Sherlock called out to him.
John's response was, "No they can't. Just because you want them to, doesn't mean they can. Now, tell me more about the kittens."
The kitten squirmed in Sherlock's hands. It looked up at him with big eyes and mewed. Sherlock was faintly repulsed by its cuteness; it reminded him of those calendars that Molly insisted hanging in the morgue and lab. Sherlock had absolutley no interest in continuing his quick-fire analysis about a dumped box of kittens. And in any other situation he wouldn't have, but he did actually feel bad for John. Despite all their bickering of late, Sherlock was amazed that John always came back and always genuinely cared for Sherlock. Even now with his annoying fussing over Sherlock's eyes showed that he cared. Despite the fact that not quite 6 hours ago, Sherlock had dumped out his eggnog and used the container to house a particularly rare and interesting dead beetle he had found. John was on edge and he thought perhaps this could be considered a peace offering. "Do I have to?" He asked resignedly. Nobody said he had to enjoy this wasting of his time, though.
"Yes." came the curt response from the other room.
Sherlock sighed and lifted up the kitten and began examining it from all angles. The kitten thought this was great fun and started licking the great consulting detective's fingers, while purring. When Sherlock brought the kitten up to his nose to smell it, the kitten immediately grabbed onto a lock of his hair and started chewing. Sherlock already growing bored let it clamber onto his head as he began to talk. "Well, they can't be older than 12 weeks. This one is female. I'd say they were outside about a day and a half. Unusual markings might mean they are particular breed….John? Do all the kittens have such odd and distinct markings?"
John headed from the kitchen holding a towel soaked in some warm soothing liquid, "Yes, they do." He stopped himself from bursting out in laughter at the sight of this tiny kitten trying to eat Sherlock's hair. "You have a kitten on your head, you know," he said failing to suppress a few giggles.
"Yes, thank you. I am aware." John kneeled down next to Sherlock.
"Close your eyes."
"This isn't necessary, Doctor. I'm perfectly fine."
"Sherlock, your eyes are thoroughly bloodshot and you have dust collected in your conjunctivas. Now shut them." John said giving him a look. Sherlock was a professional in ignoring such looks from everyone, but John's always seemed to stop him. Just John's eyes locked onto Sherlock's made him feel flustered; he didn't know why either which caused him further agitation. He shut his eyes and John tipped his head back and put on the towel. Then John attempted to grab the kitten from Sherlock's hair
"Owwwwww!" Sherlock whined. "Just leave her there, if she likes it so much."
"Aww Sherlock that's oddly generous of you. Getting into the Christmas spirit." John said smirking. He then walked over to look at the other kittens. They clambered over each other to get close to his hand. They were starved for any type of love. While John was petting them he noticed something around one of the kitten's neck. "Hey Sherlock, one of them has on a collar." John unsnapped the collar and studied it. "Interesting, it doesn't have any writing on it. No name or address."
"Well, obviously they would have removed that before dumping the kittens." Sherlock drawled wondering why he was even responding to such drivel.
"Yeah, but this almost looks like a bracelet. It was way too big on the kitten and anyway none of the other kittens have one on. It's gold and covered in blue gems, definitely looks like a bracelet. Maybe one of the kittens accidently stuck his head through one?"
As John spoke, Sherlock saw hundreds of flashes in his mind of newspapers, magazines, web news, blogs, TV, etc. all showing the Countess of Morcar and her stolen gold bracelet covered in rare blue diamonds. An arrest had been made, but the bracelet had yet to be recovered.
"No I don't think so, John." Sherlock whipped off the towel and threw it to the ground. He stood up and reached a hand out for the bracelet.
His face was so serious that John began to feel hopeful for the first time in what felt like forever. Sherlock examined the bracelet, his eyes gleaming. "Get me my phone, it's next to your laptop."
As soon as John handed Sherlock the phone, Sherlock dialed Lestrade and simply said, "You have the wrong man. Tim Neilen did not steal the Countess's diamonds." He paused listening and answered Lestrade. "No, but I can find out who did." He hung up the phone. And looked at John, "Get your coat! We are headed out!"
Sherlock threw on his coat and was halfway out the door, before John stopped him. "Wait, wait! Sherlock!" He tugged roughly and Sherlock winced, but he got the kitten out of the detective's hair.
He went to put the little kitten back, but Sherlock said, "No John. We need her, bring her with us."
"Bring her? For what?"
"The case John! The case!" With that he swept out of the room.