One Kitten, Two Kitten, Three Kitten, Four
Five kitten, six kitten, seven kitten, more. John knew Sherlock was a cat person, but he didn't know 'cat person' literally translated to 'crazy cat lady'.
It started out as a case. That's how it always starts, John mused resignedly; an innocent-seeming case that, out of the blue, turns his life upside down. But no one could have predicted that the capture of a man who purposely made dogs attack small children would end up like this.
It had been a particularly twisted case. Their criminal had been attacked by a dog when he was a child, leaving his face scarred and hideous – or so his fellow year mates had thought. He'd gone his entire childhood being teased because of what happened and the way it had left him looking, and somewhere along the line he'd decided he wanted revenge.
But rather than take his revenge on the people that had bullied him, he'd decided he'd inflict what he'd suffered on the next generation.
Even with this knowledge, however, it was hard to see the relationship between a string of dog attacks and the twenty or so kittens gambolling around John's feet. John wasn't sure he understood the link, but he knew there had to be one.
"Sherlock?" John said, as he stepped carefully towards the kitchen where the aforementioned sociopath was currently sitting. Sherlock was calmly reading a newspaper, pointedly ignoring the kitten that was batting at it in an attempt to make noise. Anyone would have thought this was a perfectly normal situation for him. Sherlock didn't look up.
"Sherlock!" John said. This time, the dark-haired man raised his head.
"Yes, John?" he asked innocently.
"What have you done?"
It was all quite simple really, Sherlock explained. He'd gone with Lestrade to the RSPCA, which was where the serial attacker had been getting his dogs from – raising them from puppies so they'd attack you as soon as look at you. And when he'd been there, he'd noticed the building marked 'Kittens For Adoption'.
He'd just been going to have a look, Sherlock told John, his eyes begging his doctor friend to understand. It was scientifically proven that close proximity to domesticated animals had a calming effect on people. He honestly hadn't gone in with the intention of buying all the kittens in there.
"You did come out with all the cats in there," John pointed out.
"Not all of them. I left one – the lady assured me that someone would come for it. If not, I left my number, and she'll ring me."
John groaned. "Why did you buy so many cats?"
"How could I leave them there to be put down?"
And what could he say to that? John knew when he was beaten.
However, he wasn't going to let Sherlock have the last word. "Fine," he told his extremely insane flatmate. "But you're telling Mrs Hudson."
