Author's Note: Another challenge on 15minuteficlets on lj… again, taking me 14 minutes o.O That number seems to like me. The picture inspiration for this one (they do a picture every 4 weeks) was a gorgeous cat sitting on the top of a sofa… so voila.
The doctor's office was rather ugly from pretty much every angle possible, when glanced at here and there, with its tacky trinkets and hideous sofas and not-quite-so-matching cushions that adorned them. A blanket hung over one, giving out a musky, old odour that made the young man wrinkle his nose in distaste.
He was waiting for his companion to emerge from within the doctor's study, where she had gone in to see if she could gather any answer referring to their latest case. A strange account of supernatural sightings had them on a kind of goose chase, and they no idea what or who they were looking for. Granted, they did have a few leads, but the American sitting in the 'waiting room' could do nothing but stare back at his only fellow occupant in the unattractive room.
The handsome cat was simply lying casually across the top of one of the sofas, a red cushion poking up near its nose. Its lacy whiskers twitched curiously, and the golden eyes blinked with intrigue as its gaze travelled all over the spy's frame.
Tom Sawyer returned the favour, admiring the animal from afar, cocking his head as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he observed. Grinning a little, he spoke to the cat, "Y'know what? You sorta remind me of Peter."
The animal closed its eyes lazily for a moment, and then yawned, showing pearly little canines and a hairy tongue, bristly and no doubt coarse. Closing its mouth and opening those bright and cunning orbs, it lifted its head from its perch, and shifted just a fraction.
Tom chuckled. The cat most definitely reminded him of Peter… who had been a 'pet' in his childhood, back in St. Petersburg, Missouri. His Aunt Polly had always had a cat of some description, and he remembered the scrawny Peter as though he had only just seen him a moment ago. He had been a little… stupid, by all accounts, and Tom vividly recalled feeding it painkillers at one point and making the animal fly out of the room as though it had a rocket in its tail. A smile graced his face at the memory, and the cosy feline that occupied the area with him dozed, head still aloft in an almost regal manner.
Tom cocked his head again, remembering the dead cat Huck had brought to his attention one day – making him late for school – and how the two of them had crept to the graveyard in the middle of the night. That was where their first case had started, with Injun Joe committing a murder before his unwitting witnesses.
Shaking his head out of his reverie, he sighed lightly, and leaned back once again in the seat, hearing a light thud as he eyed the ceiling. Glancing quickly back to the cat, he narrowed his eyes. It was gone.
And then, quite suddenly, it was sitting beside him peacefully and proudly, chin aloft as if it were a lord… it very much reminded him of Dorian Gray in that moment, and he quirked a brow.
"Well, you're a funny thing, ain't you?" he teased, and then tickled its chin. It seemed to smile dopily and leaned into his hand, a subtle purr filtering over the infuriating ticking of the clock up on the wall.
Peter the cat… he barely remembered what had happened to that scruffy old feline. He knew the cat was probably dead by now; he remembered it still being around when he'd left Aunt Polly's though. He wondered what had become of that quirky little creature, who had endured so many 'mean' pranks from the roguish Tom Sawyer.
The cat glanced up at him, almost knowingly, blinking in a way that almost conveyed it knew what he was thinking; as if it had read his mind. He eyed it suspiciously, and chuckled. The idea was a little ridiculous, but the way that cat looked him over right then was almost sceptical, and in the eyes he saw the accusation, 'I know what you did to him'.
Uncomfortable all of a sudden, he felt guilty for ever giving poor Peter all those painkillers; granted, the cat had gotten over it, but they hadn't seen him for a while after the incident. He had probably been out somewhere, coughing them up… Tom frowned.
"Um… sorry?" he offered the cat, who almost nodded, bobbing its head down for him to scratch. Without hesitation, Tom conceded, even as the sound of the door behind him opening brought him right out of his reverie. He turned his head as a silky smooth voice said, "It seems you kept yourself entertained in my absence."
Tom looked down at the cat with half a smile, and sighed with a shrug. "He reminded me of someone… a pet I used to have. Peter was his name… and I have to admit I wasn't entirely sweet to the poor thing."
Mina smiled in a veiled manner and nodded. "I see. Well, if you are quite done with your new acquaintance, we should be on our way. I learned something of our curious case, and it is worthy of discussion with the others."
"All right." Looking down at the cat as he leaned forward, he smiled, disbelievingly at the name tag. A quiet laugh escaped him in wonder as he patted it tenderly atop the head before standing.
"See you around, Peter."
Peter the cat watched the strange human leave, and settled down to doze.
Humans were curious creatures…