So, this fic is in honor of Martin Freeman's birthday, which just so happens to be TODAY! Everybody say "Happy Birthday Martin"! So anyways, read, and enjoy! Seriously. Look down and read. And enjoy. That's an order. XD But not before looking at this:
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING! The characters would be pretty messed up if I did... But no, they belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle...
Of Kittens and Milk
John stepped out into the open air of Baker Street. He had run out of milk so he needed to go down to the market to get some more. Mrs. Hudson asked him to get some tea and biscuits while he was there.
He looked around before hailing a cab, and when he did, he saw a man in a long black coat carrying a small basket. He wouldn't have paid any attention to the man if he wasn't hunched over and pulling the tip of his hat down so John couldn't see his face.
John just stood and stared at the man. There was something familiar about him that he couldn't quite place, and as John piled into the cab that had pulled up in front of him, he could've sworn he saw the man crouch at the steps of 221B.
John tried not to think about the man much while he was at the market. He tried. Really hard. He was just some random man carrying a basket, right? Nothing particularly odd about that, right? Right? Right. Because that's not what John thought was strange. What he really thought was strange was that the man was familiar to him. But he couldn't even see his face! So why did he look so familiar?
And more importantly: what was he doing at 221B?
~()~()~()~
As John got out of the cab with his bag of groceries, he glanced over at the door to see if Mrs. Hudson was outside so she could help him, not that he would ask her to if she wasn't. But instead of seeing Mrs. Hudson, a small basket sat on the steps of his flat, and he got curious.
Quickly, he ran upstairs with his load of food, not bothering to put them up but instead setting them on the floor. He then ran back down to the basket that he assumed was waiting for him.
And he was right. On top of the basket was a small note.
'John,
I thought this might remind you of me, so I bought this for you to keep you company. Give it a good name and take care of it. I'll see you soon enough.'
So John lifted the tiny blanket when he saw something moving underneath it, and to his surprise, he was met with two small bright blue eyes.
~()~()~()~
About three months later, John came home from buying milk to see a familiar face in his chair holding and petting another familiar face.
He lowered his gaze to the young kitten that had been delivered to his doorsteps only three months ago and looked into the familiar bright blue eyes. At the time, the note that came with it hadn't exactly made sense, but now, under the circumstances, it did.
The kitten's long black fur and admittedly beautiful blue eyes now matched that of the man cradling it in his arms.
That brought John's attention back to said man.
"Sherlock…" He said, his voice small and uncertain.
"Hello, John. I see you've kept this little thing." To this John nodded.
"Well, I hope you took my advice and gave it an appropriate name." Again, at a loss of words, John nodded.
"Well? What is it?" Sherlock asked, growing impatient.
John gathered his wits and found his voice again before replying, "Sherlock. I named him Sherlock."
So? Did you like it? Hmm? What did you think about it? What was that? No, sorry I can't hear you through the computer screen... *Sigh* I guess you'll just have to leave me a review to let me know what you think... XP
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARTIN FREEMAN!