Family

John opened his front door to find a dark flat. This in itself was not unusual, but John sensed a general air of discontent emanating from the couch and, after inhaling, discovered why. He rolled his eyes, shut the door behind him and made his way to the kitchen.

"So Mycroft was here," he called out over the sound of the kettle. There was no vocal acknowledgement from the living room, but John thought he heard the sound of Sherlock (in his cat form, because when could he ever deal with emotions normally?) flopping over. John sighed and ventured out to see how bad the damage was.

Even as a cat, Sherlock somehow managed to sulk magnificently. He was on his side, fore-limb thrown over his head dramatically and tail artfully splayed out. John laughed at him, walked forward and scooped him up (much to his rather loud indignation), then plonked himself down and placed Sherlock in his lap.

"Right then," he announced, once he had the tangle of black limbs arranged comfortably. "Now that I have you as prisoner, are you going to tell me what this is all about, in more detail than just, 'Mycroft', or am I going to have to torture it out of you?"

Sherlock twisted around in his grip and shot him a glare that simply said, "Are you actually being serious right now?" John wasn't - not really. Mycroft deliberately stirred Sherlock into such a mood that the only ways John was able to combat it was to act childishly if Sherlock had shifted, shift himself if that didn't work and try play with Sherlock (however infantile he judged the action to be), and if all else failed, initiate really great sex.

However, to the silent question being thrown his way, John answered only with a cheerful smile and then set to work. Sherlock held the stare for about seven seconds before one eye twitched, and then he was squirming in John's arms.

John laughed as Sherlock struggled, but eventually the power of John's fingers was too much for him and he made himself comfortable and let the petting do its job. He smiled as he stroked down Sherlock's spine, knowing when to lighten the pressure of his fingers and when to dig deeper. He stayed close to Sherlock's head for the most part, scratching his upper back and his ears, as well as occasionally his jaw, before deciding to step it up a little. Sherlock was enjoying himself, that much was clear - he'd gone totally still (apart from the occasional wiggle of contentment) and there was a quiet but persistent purr emitting from his throat - but John knew exactly where to go to drive him crazy.

Almost absentmindedly, John's fingers dipped lower and lower, until finally he reached the small of Sherlock's back, right above his tail. Sherlock went from relaxed to melted chocolate in an instant, and the quiet purring went from a motorbike starting in the distance, to thunder rolling right through you. The vibrations were strong enough that John could feel them radiating through his entire leg, up his body, and through his chest. He grinned smugly to himself.

That was his favourite bit.

Gradually, he slowed the movement of his hand until it was just resting gently on Sherlock's back, and leaned down to press a soft kiss on the top of his head.

"What's up?" he asked quietly. Sherlock rolled over, looked at him, and then John had a lap full of Consulting Detective. He pouted, bottom lip pushed out as far as it could go.

"Mycroft's a git," he muttered. John rolled his eyes.
"Mycroft's always been a git, that's nothing new, Sherlock. What actually happened?"

Sherlock sighed.

"John, do you like your parents?"

He raised an eyebrow at the seemingly random question, but answered nevertheless.

"Yeah, they're pretty good. Why?"
"I don't."
"Sherlock, you've never even met my parents."
"What?" Sherlock frowned. "No, no, my parents. I don't like my parents."
"Oh, right."

John felt a bit silly, and then reminded himself that Sherlock was talking to him about feelings, it wasn't a time to be feeling silly. He shook himself internally and refocused his attention.

"Why don't you like your parents?"
"My father's a jerk."

A thought along the lines of it must run through the family passed through his head, and then he admonished himself for thinking such a thing, even though he was thinking of Mycroft and not Sherlock.

"I see."
"And Mummy's passive."
"Okay."
"And they locked me out of the house when I was younger because I refused to shift back."
"Right. Wait, no - what? They locked you out of the house? Sherlock!"

Sherlock had managed to pour even more of himself into John's lap so that he couldn't stand up in anger.

"John."
"Where was Mycroft in all of this, then?"
"John."
"I'm serious, Sherlock, that's not right."
"John."

Sherlock reached up and put one finger on John's nose. John fell silent, though his eyes promised further discussion.

"Mycroft took me inside when it started raining."

If possible, his eyes darkened even more and Sherlock felt a growl ripping up through John's chest and throat. A small part of him liked that John was getting so upset for him because he had been wronged, and another part of him didn't want his perfect image of John to be shattered by him wreaking revenge on Sherlock's family.

"Honestly, I'm fine now, I got over it ages ago."

John's eyes promised retribution and Sherlock shivered happily.

"Why was Mycroft over here, then?"
"Because Mummy is holding a family reunion, and I haven't had to go to one of those since my father died and we had his funeral."
"But you have to go to this one?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Mycroft's a git."

John laughed quietly.

"Sherlock, we've already established this multiple times. Why do you have to go?"

Sherlock sighed.

"Because Mycroft told Mummy about us before I did and now she wants to meet you and my whole extended family is going to be there and most of them are so annoying."
"Is that the real problem?"

He stared at John through one eye.

"I don't like it when you psychoanalyse me," he muttered and pushed his head into John's neck. John laughed again.
"Well now you know how the rest of us feel when you know what we're thinking," he teased, and started stroking up and down Sherlock's back gently. The feelings were lessened slightly when he wasn't shifted, but the curly headed sometimes-cat hummed contentedly and relaxed into the touch.
"It's not that I'm ashamed of you, and Heavens knows Mummy doesn't care about any of her sons being gay, because there's more than one of us, and that's all I'm telling you for now. It's more...my cousins."

This last part was admitted quietly and accompanied by a soft little kiss against John's neck.

"I was always the freaky little boy who never had any respect for anybody's privacy. Martin isn't bad at all, we always got along quite well, even if he's a bit odd, but Simon and Caitlin are just mean sometimes. Most of the time I didn't mind, because they always used to tease Martin and whenever we had a family event it meant that they would leave him alone and focus on me, a bit."

John closed his eyes and wondered how he had ever thought Sherlock was cold-hearted or unfeeling.

"But I don't want them to pick on you because of me, because you don't deserve it."
"Sherlock-"
"And I know you can handle it, but the point is that you shouldn't have to."

He didn't say anything, trying to find the right words. He could have said something like, 'Well maybe they've changed', or 'You shouldn't bother to listen to them if they're such idiots', but he knew how Sherlock would react to those phrases. Sherlock generally had a pretty good idea of people and how they would act, and John knew that despite Sherlock's swanning around and dismissive actions, the names people called him and the glares they shot in his direction did affect him.

"I'm glad you know I can handle myself, and you really shouldn't worry. I've had to go through people calling me a number of things just because my sister came out in high school, I'm sure I'll be able to cope with this. And if not, then maybe we can leave early, or maybe you can go out to the garden and mention the fact that you've recently adopted this wonderful, loving, caring German Shepherd who absolutely adores you and would do anything for you. Including kill, incidentally. And then I can come round the corner and just stare at them, possibly growl for a bit, and maybe that will make them think twice about saying anything nasty next time."

Sherlock kissed him then, forcefully and intently, as though trying to say a hundred things in one action. John smiled and kissed him back.

"You," Sherlock announced after pulling back slightly. "Are truly magnificent."
"I know," John agreed and leaned in to kiss him again.

A/N:

Wow, it's been a while, eh?

So I'm back, I've been busy - exams, other schoolwork, teachers seemingly intent on destroying anything along the lines of hobbies or a social life, you know. The usual.

This happens after Feline and Canine, after their relationship becomes public knowledge (as in, more public than Lestrade realising it and trying to wash the images of out his mind with industrial strength bleach). The basic premise was, purring. I wanted purring Sherlock, because really, who doesn't? Seriously, you can't lie.

It's also a crossover with Cabin Pressure - you don't need to listen to it to understand what's going on, because basically it's just that most of Sherlock's cousins are a bit mean, but if you don't you should anyway because it is brilliant.

So yus. Hope you're all well. Nice to see you after the extended break.

Cheers,
Foxboxtango97 :)