This chapter is also dedicated to KCS and the late T.S. Eliot; she knows why. ;)
Holmes lay curled up in his chair, the blackness of his coat matching his mood as he glowered at his present company: his brother and his arch-nemesis.
Mycroft eventually looked up from his white spats and acknowledged his brother's crankiness. "I have no explanation for this."
"Ha!"
"Sherlock, please. You needn't vent your spleen on us just because your landlady was affected as we were and expressed her displeasure to you in a manner most vehement. Now, be logical about this."
"This entire situation is illogical!" Holmes began pacing furiously in front of the fire, ears pressed back tightly against his skull.
"But not entirely unexpected, given past events," Moriarty observed dryly, his own gingery coat dusty from neglect. "And at any rate, you know you will not be bothered by mice or cockroaches."
Holmes was saved from answering by Watson's entry. "Holmes, when did we acquire a tabby -- I say!" The doctor observed one very lithe black cat pacing before the fire; one very large, round black cat with white paws; and one seedy, ginger cat with an oscillating head. "So you've all been turned into cats this time?"
"It happened a few minutes after you left. Consider it a lucky break."
"As I cannot but feel I would make an awkward cat, it is a very lucky break."
If anyone is curious as to the origins of this, I will direct you to T.S.Eliot's "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats", especially "Bustopher Jones," "The Old Gumbie Cat," "Macavity the Mystery Cat," and "Magical Mr. Mistoffelees." Sadly, there was no cat that reminded me of Watson, except perhaps "Skimbleshanks" but that's a stretch.