The next morning, Beth Lestrade found she could barely move. Some time during the night the electricity had gone down and Deidre had wrapped herself around the woman and Tigerlily had buried his furry body under one arm, both trying to soak as much warmth from her as possible.
After successfully disentangling herself, Lestrade wrapped her arms around her chest and shuffled over to Holmes' room. She knocked a few times and he answered clutching his robe to his body, a spare one held out to her.
"It appears we lost power last night." He said through chattering teeth.
"No shit, Sherlock." She wrapped the thick robe around her borrowed pajamas. She inhaled and could tell the robe, like the pajamas, was Holmes' by the way his scent still lingered faintly in the fabric.
"I beg your pardon?" Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow.
"Sorry. You do have a generator, right?"
"There's one out in the back garden, if someone would want to brave the storm to turn it on."
Deidre sleepily shuffled out of the bedroom rubbing her eyes. "I can do that. The building'll give me some cover from the wind."
"You'll catch your death of cold." Holmes proclaimed.
"Naw. I'm quicker 'n both of you. Jack Frost couldn't catch me."
"But…"
"Come on, Inspector. I'll be back in afore you can say popsicle."
Both adults gave resigned sighs, knowing they couldn't change the young girl's mind. With a whoop, she bounced back into the room to dress for her adventure.
Not much later Lestrade and Watson stood by the back door, waiting for Deidre to rush back in from the biting cold, which she did with great alacrity.
"Look what I found Watson." Deidre said as she unwrapped her arms from around her middle.
THWACK!
A snowball hit Lestrade in the midriff. "A snowball for the Inspector."
"Why you…"
The girl held up a little bundle of fur in penance. "And a kitten."
Watson took the small marmalade cat in one large metal hand and scanned it with the other as Lestrade grumpily brushed snow from her chest.
Deidre hung on to Watson's arm as he gently tried to rub some life back into the feline. "Is he gonna be alright?"
"She will be fine. And she is not a kitten, but a mature adult cat approximately the same age as Tigerlily and apparently pregnant. There's no collar or tag so one can only assume the little thing is a stray."
Lestrade held out a hand to the compudroid. "I think your hands are bit cold for the cat Watson. How about you fix a dish of milk while Deidre gets herself dried off. Our little friend just needs some warm food and night by the fire and she'll be all right."
"How do you know so much about cats, Inspector?" Deidre asked.
Beth tucked the cat close to her chest as she settled down on the couch in the sitting room. "I used to get in trouble for bringing home strays when I was a kid."
Holmes looked up from his book. "I never thought you'd be a child to bring home lost animals."
Wiggins joked from over his homework. "I never thought you were a child."
"What, you think I popped out fully grown with an ionizer in one hand and a badge in the other?"
"Well, there are days." Tennyson beeped.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I was like any other tomboy. My mother said I had so many animals I could've started my own zoo." Lestrade said as she gently stroked the cat into a wary wakefulness.
Holmes studied Beth's face as the cat gave her finger an inquisitive lick. "And you grieved every time one of them died."
A faint blush colored her cheeks and Lestrade smiled wanly as the feline began to burrow against her, searching for warmth. "That's why I don't keep animals anymore."
Sensing the mushiness of the moment, Lestrade cleared her throat. "Well, I suppose she needs a name."
Holmes raised a brow. "Are you intent on keeping her my dear?"
"Actually, I thought you would. My apartment doesn't allow animals. She could keep Tigerlily company."
Sherlock thought for a second and gave a small shrug.
"I've always been partial to Juliet." Lestrade said and the cat looked cross-eyed at her before hopping off of the woman's lap.
How about Dandelion, to go with Tigerlily?" Wiggins offered.
The cat wandered over to the dish of milk Watson set out and turned her backside towards the boy.
"She looks like a Francesca to me." Holmes said turning back to his book.
The cat continued to lap up the milk as Deidre settled in across from her, propping her chin on her folded arms. "What'cha think about that Frankie?"
The cat considered her for a few seconds before licking the girl's nose.
"Francesca it is then." Watson said as he made his way back to the guest bathroom. "I suppose that means I'll be cleaning the litter box more often."
SHERLOCKHOLMESINTHE22NDCENTURYLater that day, Lestrade sprawled out on the chaise lounge gently stroking Francesca's ears as she read a book and listened to music. The children found the cat a bit comical looking with her thin frame and bulging abdomen. But Lestrade found her adorable and vowed that she would look better once they put a little meat on her bones and she had her litter.
Holmes slouched in his armchair, chewing on the stem of his empty pipe as he stared contentedly into the fire over his steepled fingers. Watson and Deidre puttered around the kitchen while Tennyson played Halo 20 Online on his MiniX. From the excited chirps and whistles one would guess he was kicking his opponents' butts.
Wiggins was off raiding the cupboards even though they'd had dinner not but three hours ago. Oh, to have the metabolism of a 15-year-old boy.
When Wiggins returned to the sitting room with Tigerlily on his heels he noticed the Inspector's foot dancing to whatever was on her Iota. He plucked her earbuds out and listened for second to whatever was playing on the miniscule music chip player.
He made a face. "What are you listening to?"
Lestrade retrieved her precious earbuds. "Right Said Fred. Late 20th century rock band."
"Catchy tune." He began singing under his breath as he stuffed food in his mouth. "I'm too sexy…I'm too sexy for my shirt…too sexy for my cat…think about that?"
While Wiggins proclaimed his sexiness for all, Tennyson threw his arms up in victory, sending his MiniX flying. Holmes caught it almost without thinking and peered at the score.
"Impressive Tennyson."
The blonde beeped excitedly and his blue eyes crinkled at the praise. While Tennyson took a victory lap around the flat, Holmes fiddled with the buttons for a few seconds before finding the menu and pulling the stylus out of the miniature gaming system. He was so intent on what he was doing he didn't notice when Deidre came up behind him to study the MiniX over his shoulder.
"I didn't know you were an artist Mr. Holmes."
Holmes started slightly. "I'm not."
She cocked her head and studied the picture of Lestrade reclining on the couch with Francesca. "I don't know. It's not bad."
She tapped her yellow forefinger on the screen. "I like how you took some artistic license with it."
"I only draw what I see. It's no different than sketching out a crime scene or a suspect's face."
Deidre shook her head. "Whatever you say Mr. Holmes. I wish I could draw like that."
"Me too."
Both Deidre and Holmes turned to find Lestrade looking over their shoulders at the small screen.
Deidre looked at the couch where Francesca now snoozed by herself, then back at Beth. "Wait, weren't you just…I thought…"
A smile curled the woman's lip. "Walk softly and carry a big stick. Not bad Holmes," she cocked her head, "is that how I really look to you?"
He considered the visage he'd created. "How do you mean? This is a close approximation to your appearance."
"I'm not really that…voluptuous, am I? I look very…feminine in that picture."
"You made her look real pretty Mr. Holmes. Though, I don't think I've ever seen the Inspector look so girly."
Lestrade cuffed the girl's shoulder. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"
Holmes shook his head as Deidre ran and Lestrade took off after her.