On a kitten´s path
Sherlock woke up and something was wrong. Frist he didn't know what it was. A strange feeling wakes in Sherlock, something was definitive different. He couldn't say exactly what it is but the world felt wrong. He decided that opening his eyes would be a good start for the beginning.
It was dark; it takes his still half sleeping brain to understand that he was under his blanket. Somehow the blanket was far more heavy then he remembers and the way out from underneath it was longer. Did he go into the wrong direction? Finally he reached the edge and the light Sherlock looked out and found himself in his room.
The room was his, but its shape and contour, even the size were wrong. Everything appears larger, larger then he remembers.
With his paws on the pillow Sherlock reached his head to see more of ...
PAWS? Sherlock looked down on his body. Black fur covers him, he has cat paws and the slender body of an cat and ... a tail. Sherlock closes his eyes not believing or understanding what was going on. Why was he in a body of a cat and why was this cat sleeping in his bed?
The cat detective tries to calm down, it took a few tries but finally his breathing was normal again. He needs to think, this can only be a dream. There is no scientific explanation for becoming a cat overnight. For a second Sherlock searches his mind palace for an experiment of his that could lead to such an event. He came back without finding a reason. It has to be a dream.
Sherlock jumps on top of his blanket to get a better look from his room. Slowly He walks onto his four legs over the soft material, Sherlock didn't feel very steady with this from of movement but that's how cats walk.
After Sherlock had seen enough he walked to the edge, suddenly appear the few centimetres to the floor like a huge distance. But fear was never something that had stopped him. He was a in a dream nothing would happen. Sherlock jumps and lands with his four paws smoothly in the floor. The plan was to look through the rest of his room and continue with the flat but it was far more interesting to find out that he has claws, claws that could come out by pushing something inside his hand ... he means paw. They were sharp and Sherlock tested one on the nightstand next to his bed. A thin line was left behind, a scratch made by him. Happy about it Sherlock ignores his room and walked through the half closed door.
The hall appears huge and Sherlock walks carful over the floor. The bathroom door was closed, also the door to the kitchen and living room. He wouldn't be able to open them. The only way was upstairs to John. To Sherlock's surprised was his door open. Something that doesn't happen too often. Only when the ex-army doctor wants to hear Sherlock for some reason. Why were all their doors closed anyway? They had them always open, except for their rooms.
No longer thinking too hard about it Sherlock climbs up the stairs with his size. Apparently he was a very small cat. On top of the stairs Sherlock takes a short break, he looks back and the few steps look like he had climbed a mountain.
The black cat turns to the door and pushed with his head against it. Silently the door opens and Sherlock can slip in without making a sound. John was sleeping in his bed; the street light illuminates the room but Sherlock suspect that his cat vision was helping with that.
The next problem appears, he was standing in front of John's bed, Sherlock had to decide, should he wake him with his voice or by touching. Touching was probably the more effective way in getting John's attention.
Sherlock jumps as high as his small legs would get him. He only reaches the bed half way. His claws didn't come out and he lands in his feet again. At least that was working. The cat gets his claws out again (with some difficulties) and jumps again. This time the claws keep him on the height he had jumped at. Sherlock climbs the last bit by pulling himself up the bed sheet.
Exhausted from this, Sherlock lays down at the edge from the mattress, resting for a few minutes and watching John's chest rise with every breath he takes.
Slowly the cat walked over to John's sleeping body. One of his paws reaches out to touch John, wake him. Does he really want this? Before Sherlock could make a decision the soldier's eyes in front of him open and look directly at him. He couldn't talk or make cat noises. Sherlock moved back to the edge of bed. "... Hey cat." John spoke to him, he didn't recognize Sherlock. "More of a kitten, what are you doing here?"
'I am not a kitten.' Sherlock thinks.
"Maybe Sherlock found you. But he really should tell me when he is talking some stray in."
'And I'm neither a stray.'
John picked him up before Sherlock could move. "Anyway, let's have breakfast." It felt strange to be carried by John, carried in general but this was ... Good. Sherlock smiled as far as cats can smile. John knocked at his bedroom door and finds it empty. "Little cat looks like it is only us. Maybe I can find something for you in the kitchen."
John let him down on the kitchen floor and everything was huge again. He preferred to he carried and John was warm. The ex-army doctor made tee and found some milk in the fridge. He places a bowl in the floor and puts some milk in it. Sherlock didn't even look at it and walked away.
Sherlock didn't came far because John picked him up again. "That's not the way we are dealing with food. Don't be like Sherlock. I know this is not some fancy cat food but give it a chance. You know the cook prefers it when the person he cooked for, eats the food."
The cat looked up at John with huge eyes. ´Is it really that important for him, that he eats what John places in front of him?´ Sherlock decided that John's happiness was more important than his not wanting milk.
"Little kitten, how did you ended up in our flat? Did Sherlock let you in?" John picked him up after Sherlock had finished the milk. "Or maybe he wants you for an experiment." Sherlock was shocked.
'I would never use a living animal or human for any dangerous experiment.' Kitten Sherlock moves until John let him down. He watches John as he tidies the kitchen and looking at his phone more than once. He must have sent a message at him, asking where he is. But with paws was writing an answer not really possible. "Where is he?" John whispers.
Sherlock makes a noise to get his attention and district John from worrying too much. He doesn't like to worry John and he wants to be a human again. It's not funny being a small cat. Why is he a kitten and not a grown cat like his adult self? Good question Bad more important was turning back.
The day continues and John busies himself with cleaning the flat, checking in his blog and reading a book. He wasn't really reading. John had only changed the page once in twenty minutes and Sherlock doubt that some spy novel was complicated enough to justify this reading speed.
As John gave up on pretending to read he turns on the telly, some crap TV was always distracted. Sherlock jumped up in his lap and makes himself at home. "Oh." John was surprised that the kitten was looking for some closeness. "Hope you don't mind me petting you when you us me as a chair." John smiled and Sherlock purred as John starts to per his warm black fur.
Sherlock had found at least one benefit of being a cat. He could be close to John. Gets petted and can touch John. He purrs some more, involuntary of course but it had the same effect as John increases his attention towards him.
As it was time for bed and John got ready Sherlock wasn't sure what to do. John had sent another message to his phone, which was probably in his room with an empty battery. "Hey little fellow would you like to sleep in my bed tonight. Tomorrow we will have to find out where you come from and we need to find Sherlock." But not tonight was all that was important for Sherlock. He followed John upstairs after he had finished his bathroom routine for the evening.
The stairs were difficult again and John picked him up. At least Sherlock turned around as John changed into his pyjama, he knows the word privacy even when he chooses to ignore it most of the time. Sherlock cuddles into John and fell asleep soon after.
Sherlock wakes up and find his hands in John's. Their hands were a bit sweaty under the blanket but Sherlock didn't care as long as he was close to John.
He needed a minute to remember his dream. He had been a cat and was only happy about it when John took care of him. Strange dream. Being human was better, to demonstrate that he cuddles closer to his boyfriend. John mumbles something but he falls back into a deeper sleep.
Sherlock decided to eat whatever they were having die breakfast to make John happy, he kisses John, and returns to the land of dreams, maybe he can learn more useful thinks there.