A/N: This is just a cute little story I wrote to distract myself from all the schoolwork I have to do. Please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes as I don't have a beta reader.
Hope you enjoy :)
John had only managed to take one step into his shared flat before he was met with a pair of big, blue, bored eyes. But they didn't belong to his consulting flatmate. This time, the eyes belonged to a grey, furry creature with a long bushy tail and whiskers.
"Sherlock! What is this?", John shouted just as the creature started to absentmindedly lick its paws. Sherlock stuck his head out from the kitchen.
"Really, John? Even if you're not the most clever at times I would have thought you to know what a cat is". He put down his current experiment and dragged himself over to pet the cat between its ears. It started to purr softly.
"Of course I know what a cat is! I just wondered why there's a cat in our living room and who it belongs to!" John was suddenly hit with dread. "Please tell me you didn't go out and by a cat!"
Sherlock looked at John with raised eyebrows.
"No I definitely did not! This is my uni acquaintance Lewis Wright's cat. He told me to take care of it for two days since he's going on a business trip to the U.S."
"Someone told YOU to take care of their beloved pet for two days?", John said, disbelievingly. That was probably the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard Sherlock say.
"Why does that surprise you, John? Are you under the impression that I am unable to take care of a cat?", Sherlock asked with fake innocence. John was certain that Sherlock knew exactly what he was talking about.
"Want to hear my honest opinion?", John chuckled.
"Of course, John. I'm always very happy to hear your opinion", Sherlock lied.
"No need to lie, I'm not quite as daft as you think. My point is just that maybe you should learn how to take care of yourself before taking care of pets". Sherlock frowned at that.
"How preposterous, I know very well how to take care of myself, and the cat!". He walked over to the fridge and reached inside, avoiding the various body parts in it. He then took out a couple of cans and dragged John over to them.
"This", he said and pointed at one of the cans "is what he is supposed to eat first thing in the morning. And this" he pointed at one of the other cans "is what he is supposed to eat for lunch. And this-"
"Yes, okay, I get it! I just wanted to make sure that you're not going to kill someone's cat by accidentally forgetting to feed it!", John interrupted. He carefully reached out to pet the cat, who had followed them to the kitchen the second he heard the fridge door open. "What's his name?", John asked.
"Herbert", Sherlock said seriously. John barely managed to stifle a snort.
"What?", Sherlock asked, clearly not understanding what John found so amusing.
"It's just not a common cat name, that's all", John chuckled and picked up the canned cat food. He walked over to the fridge and made a sound of disgust when opening it.
"I thought I told you to get rid of those lungs! They are really starting to smell and are making the rest of the fridge's content inedible!". When Sherlock didn't answer, John looked around to see what he was doing and saw the consulting detective sitting on the floor and playing tug of war with the cat using an old sock. John shook his head at the sight but smiled. Maybe having a cat would be a good experience for Sherlock.
"SHERLOCK!", John's voice resounded through the flat. When he didn't get an answer he barged into Sherlock's room, nearly making a door knob imprint in the wall. Sherlock was sitting on his bed with his laptop, absentmindedly stroking the cat's head.
"Sherlock! There is cat droppings in my shoe!", John shouted and waved his shoe around for Sherlock to see. Sherlock looked bored.
"Yes it was an experiment but it didn't go as planned. I didn't know that you were planning to go out more today"
"I'm really happy that you and the cat seem to get along well, but what kind of experiment justified you putting its poop into my shoe?" John was really on his last nerve, feeling like throwing the shoe across Sherlock's bedroom. Sherlock kept silent.
"Well?", John started to decide if he should throw the shoe so that it shattered the window or if he should throw it at the detective.
"...It wasn't actually part of an experiment, I just had some difficulty learning Herbert how to do his business in the litter box. But I think he's grasped it now, he just wasn't comfortable with the new environment at first".
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd just have to clean his shoe then.
John woke with a start when he heard a loud crash from the floor below. He all but fell out of bed, annoyed with himself for dozing off when he was actually about to go over some patient files he hadn't have time to go over at surgery. He threw open the door and shouted, for the third time that day, "SHERLOCK!"
The downstairs was ominously silent so the good doctor had to go down and check what was going on.
When he came down and into the living room he almost stepped on the broken pieces of what had been a plate. Sherlock stood a few feet away, looking strangely apologetic.
"It wasn't Herbert's fault. Entirely. Please don't throw him out", he said and tried to keep the curious cat away from the porcelain mess on the floor.
"What happened this time then?", John zigzagged his way through the former plate and got safely to the clean parts of floor.
"I was trying to throw the plate onto the sofa and Herbert tried to trip me, resulting in the plate's unfortunate fate. It's really not his fault though, he didn't now that I was trying to test the difficulty of throwing a plate with the left hand if one's right handed"
"I'm not blaming the cat and even if it was the cat's fault I would probably blame you for being an irresponsible cat owner", John smiled, finding it rather amusing that Sherlock was trying to protect the cat and not himself. He wasn't actually angry at Sherlock because breaking a plate was definitely not the worst thing he had done since they moved in together. He just sometimes wished that at least one day in 221b Baker Street could be calm, quiet and uneventful.
"You still have to clean it up though. Herbert could step on the plate pieces and cut his paws", he said and returned to his patient files.
John woke with a start again, but this time after a good night's sleep. He quickly opened his eyes and found his face full with fur. The cat was sleeping on his face. Great.
He gently pushed it away and it kept snoring as if nothing had happened. When putting his feet on the floor he noticed that his bedroom door was open. And he was definitely certain that he had closed it the night before. He changed into his clothes and went down the stairs for a shower and an explanation.
"Sherlock, did you let the cat into my room last night?", he asked the detective who was lying on the sofa with closed eyes and his fingertips under his chin in his thinking pose.
"No, he seems to have grasped the concept of opening doors. I researched it online and it seems to be quite a common ability among cats", Sherlock said without opening his eyes.
"So when is the owner picking him up? We can't have a cat Houdini around here all day, who knows what kinds of dangerous things he'll eat if he manages to open the fridge."
"Mr Wright is picking him up at 2 pm. Six hours left with the Houdini cat", Sherlock said, clearly amused by John's worries.
"Right", John said and went to take a shower.
"Everything okay here? No more flying plates?", John giggled while moving into the kitchen to cook breakfast. The cat was now awake and Sherlock was throwing a small rubber ball for it to chase.
"To be fair, that was actually the only thing that got broken. Oh, and your laptop", Sherlock said quickly, hoping that John didn't hear him.
"My WHAT?!", John roared and spun around. Herbert seemed to sense the change of atmosphere in the room and crawled up onto Sherlock's lap.
"Herbert accidentally knocked it down from the coffee table and some buttons fell off. I tried to start it up again but it didn't work. Computers aren't really my area of expertise but I think you'll have to get a new one", Sherlock said, avoiding looking at John.
"And I suppose you'll be paying for that then? Because I really haven't saved up for a new computer!", John was furious, almost feeling steam coming out of his ears.
"Of course I'll buy you a new one", Sherlock said, defensively and scratched the guilty little cat's ear.
John returned to making breakfast after being reassured that Sherlock definitely would replace his laptop. While he angrily cracked eggs and threw the eggshells into the sink with more force than necessary, Sherlock cleared his throat loudly. John didn't turn around.
"I really am sorry, John. I promise that for the rest of the day Herbert and I will not cause any more trouble", Sherlock said quietly.
"Ha, as if that really is going to happen!", John laughed and flipped the fried eggs.
"You really did keep your promise Sherlock. It's 1.55 now and there haven't been a single accident since my computer. I have to say that I'm impressed"
Sherlock rolled his eyes and put his focus back on the cat. He hadn't taken his eyes of him all day, just to keep his promise. And he had to admit that he actually liked the cat very much. It didn't complain and it didn't come with unnecessary demands. It was perfectly at ease with just sleeping and eating. Sherlock petted the silver-grey fur on its back and it purred contently. He heard a faint knock on the door downstairs. It was a knock from a man's hand, three firm raps. Sherlock knew at once that it was Lewis Wright. He heard Mrs Hudson open the door and greet the man, and his heavy footsteps as he climbed the stairs. John opened their door when Mr Wright knocked on it.
The man still had his suit on and it was creased at his hips and knees. So he had come straight from the airport then.
"Mr Wright, I presume? I'm John Watson, Sherlock's flatmate", John reached out to shake Mr Wright's hand. Mr Wright grinned and looked over John's shoulder to see Sherlock.
"You never told us at uni that you were into blokes, Holmes!", he chuckled. John furrowed his brows.
"I said 'flatmate' not 'boyfriend'", John muttered.
"Yes, yes, whatever", Mr Wright continued to chuckle. Then he took two steps through the room and scooped his beloved cat off the floor. Herbert meowed contently.
"He's been good and everything?", he asked and put the remaining cat food into a carrier bag.
"Yes, Herbert's a very lovely cat", Sherlock said and smiled reassuringly.
"That's delightful to hear! I'll be going then, thank you very much. Are you sure that you really don't want anything in return?", he asked Sherlock, dubiously.
"Absolutely sure", Sherlock smiled again. John thought the fake smiling-thing was rather frightening.
"All right, thank you once again! Bye!" He disappeared down the stairs and out the front door.
"You two were friends at uni?", John asked, really not seeing how his consulting flatmate could be friends with someone as loud and average as Mr Wright.
"I said acquaintance, not friend" Sherlock rolled his eyes. John sat down in his favorite armchair and relaxed. Finally he had a calm moment to do absolutely nothing.
"John", Sherlock began.
"Yes, what is it?", John said, annoyed at being bothered.
"Can we get a cat?"