AN: this is completely and utterly the fault of a picture I was sent. Said picture is now this fic's cover.
Disclaimer: Clearly, I do not own Sherlock. I've turned them into cats for heaven's sake.
I also do not own the cover. Please do tell me if you know who does.
It's not Sherlock's fault. It really isn't, no matter what Sally Donovan or Anderson say. It isn't his fault that he is the way he is and John's had it up to here with them. In fact, if he thought it would help at all, he would have gone off at them long ago, scratching and biting with all the skill that he'd acquired over time. But it wouldn't.
They were bigoted and even his and Mycroft's combined efforts are not enough to teach them otherwise or even silence either Donovan or Anderson when Sherlock exhibits behaviour that they're too close-minded to accept.
It's not even so much that Sherlock's fully black - something that few cats regarded as bad luck. It was that Sherlock acted so different from any of the others, even Mycroft and while John looked on in fascination, the others had decided to condemn the black tomcat for not fitting into their definition of normal.
John put the two troublemakers out of his mind. Revenge on them could wait until later.
For now, John needed to find Sherlock before the other cat did something damaging to himself. He already did any number of strange things to himself in the name of experimentation, John simply would not allow him to self-destruct because of two pompous, closed-minded snobs who were barely better than feral cats.
John finally managed to track Sherlock into the window box kept by a human named Mrs. Hudson.
He should've known that Sherlock would end up here. Mrs. Hudson always gave him treats and seemed to think his quirks precious - quite different from Sherlock and Mycroft's horrible people who'd sent them to the SPCA place when they were barely more than kittens. They'd been there for ages when John had arrived after being injured.
John jumped up into the window box next to Sherlock. The other cat pretended to ignore him but he was peeking at John out of his left eye.
"Come to tell me that you agree with them? That I'm a freak?" Sherlock asked.
John hissed. "Don't be ridiculous. You know full well that I don't think that."
He nuzzled Sherlock. "Please don't listen to them. You're not bad luck. They're likely just jealous of that massive brain of yours."
Sherlock purred at the compliment. "You're right, of course. I don't know what I was thinking to listen to Anderson's opinion. Did you know that his weight shows Donovan has to hunt for him? He's completely useless at it."
'Well, that's one Holmes distracted,' John thought to himself. 'Now to go make sure that Anthea hasn't poisoned Donovan or Anderson. Mycroft seemed particularly determined to get rid of them this time.
AN: And that's that.