Chapter Three

"Where's Winston?"

"Gone."

John paused in his roaming around the sitting room and looked to Sherlock, who had been unpacking the sack of cat treats that he had brought along with them to try on Winston's picky palate. "The woman that he was promised to in Mrs. James's will came by yesterday and took him," Mycroft continued.

John cleared his throat to break the silence that followed the announcement. "Well, I'm sure that he'll be very happy in his new home."

"Yes, he will," Mycroft replied dryly without looking up from the document in his hands. John tried to gauge Sherlock's reaction, but Sherlock had turned his back to them and was packing away the cat treats again.

"Going to get another pet then?"

"No." Mycroft shut the file and neatly tucked it away in his briefcase. "Having Winston around quite took care of whatever urges I had to have a pet."

"Ah, okay-"

"We should go back to the pet shop and get a refund for these cat treats," Sherlock said suddenly as he whirled around to face them. "And we better get to Scotland Yard for that business Lestrade called us about earlier."

"What business-"

"The business." Sherlock practically shoved John in the direction of the front door.

"Uh, see you later, I guess, Mycroft," John called over his shoulder.

"Until next time," Mycroft's voice said politely, the slam of the front door cutting off whatever else he was going to say.

"Mycroft didn't want to give up Winston."

"What do you mean?" John asked as he typed up yet another case to publish on his blog. "He seems okay about it."

Sherlock made a noise of frustration. "Once again, John, you fail to see what's right in front of you."

"Yes, of course I do," John said with a sigh, pausing in his typing to look around the screen to Sherlock, who was sprawled out on the sofa, his arms flung gracefully all over the place.

"All while we were growing up, Mycroft barely acknowledged Redbeard's existence. My dog from childhood," Sherlock elaborated before John could interrupt. "But this was different. You didn't see them together - it was like some kind of twisted match made in Heaven. Mycroft talked to Winston like he was a human, gave him commands and orders like he was one of his minions. I'm convinced that Winston knows things that no one else on this Earth will ever know, secrets that could probably bring the whole world to war."

"I'm not following where you're going with this," John said slowly.

"Of course you're not- look, the point is Mycroft cared enough about that cat to give him the time of day. If he didn't want him around, he would've seen to it that Winston went somewhere else right after Mum left him there."

John sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Okay, so let's just say that Mycroft actually cared about Winston. What did you expect him to do when the woman came to collect him, for him to tell her no? If Winston was promised to her then that's that, Sherlock. If Mycroft cares just as much as you say he does, then he was right to give Winston over." Sherlock sat up and grabbed his mobile, his fingers flying all over the screen. "Besides, we both know that he hardly has the time or the patience to take care of a cat long-term. I say he did the right thing."

Sherlock didn't reply, but his phone chimed and his fingers flew in a frenzy yet again. John shook his head and went back to typing. A part of him couldn't actually begin to believe that Mycroft, the man who seemed like a walking, breathing block of ice, would actually be able to care about a cat. It was hard enough to wrap his mind around the fact that Mycroft cared about Sherlock in his own twisted, mental way; adding a cat to the mix just served to confuse him even more.

Normal people cared about animals, sure, but Mycroft Holmes was far from ordinary.

Thankfully, it was rather easy for Mycroft to forget about Winston's departure over the weeks that passed. The Georgia project took every spare moment of his attention, and through all the confusion and planning, it never once occurred to him that Anthea had stopped asking after Winston's well-being. In fact, she seemed to make herself rather sparse when the conversation turned to anything outside work, but Mycroft didn't have the time to mull over her reasoning. Perhaps it was better that way, anyway. More work got done without the extra fluff of personal lives.

Mycroft walked into his house after a particularly long day, rubbing his sore, burning eyes as he put away his umbrella and briefcase. An endless cycle of sleep, work, sleep, work, sleep-

A familiar mew sounded from somewhere in the house. Turning around, Mycroft felt his jaw almost drop to the floor as Winston practically jogged toward him from the sitting room, his fur rippling gracefully as the breeze of his sprint moved over him. With abandon, he rubbed himself against Mycroft's legs, his purrs echoing all around the foyer.

"How did you - didn't I just-" He walked into the sitting room and Winston followed closely behind with soft chattering mews. A part of him was ready to give Sherlock a scolding for the ages, but at the sound of heels walking around the kitchen and the faint smell of perfume, he fell silent in shock. Anthea rounded the corner and leaned against the wall, her face extremely serious.

"What-" Mycroft looked to Winston and back to Anthea. "What is... 'Sir Snickers' doing here?"

"Well, first of all, if I'm not mistaken, his name's Winston," Anthea said. "And as for why he's here – Sherlock informed me a few weeks ago that a group of people were arrested on grounds for participating in illegal fur trade in China. When I further looked into it, it turns out that Charlotte was one of those people. She had sold Winston off for two thousand pounds."

Winston rolled on his back to show Mycroft his stomach, his tail sweeping across the carpet.

"He was supposed to be collected last night by his new owners, but I put in a call to security at Heathrow to have them arrested when they came through. Turns out going with one of their officers wasn't a complete waste of time," she added as she turned on the phone in her hand to type something.

"Technically," she continued as her fingers clicked and moved across the Blackberry with speed. "Winston is mine. I have all of his pedigree and registration papers, so I'll be taking him to live with me unless you have something to say about that?" She clicked the phone off and looked up again. Mycroft looked between her and Winston a few times. "All right how about this? I'll leave him here for the night and you can give me your final decision tomorrow."

"Uh-" Mycroft trailed off and looked to Winston, who was sitting and serenely staring at him. A thousand different things had filtered through his mind to say and as much as he wanted to make himself speak, his mouth felt completely paralyzed.

"I'll be by in the morning, then. Oh, by the way, I found the box with his toys and things. It's in the spare room and I set up the Cat Genie again for you." With a coy smile, she walked past them. "Don't be up too late, now."

The front door shut with a soft slam and Mycroft sighed after a few seconds.

"Well…you're back, then." Winston mewed loudly in confirmation. "I daresay you probably wouldn't have enjoyed becoming a purse, so you've been spared from that fate at least." Mycroft went to sit down in his chair and Winston followed to lie in the mound of blankets that Anthea had put back.

Back to the way things were, then, he thought to himself as the purring of the content cat pressed against his ears.

Later that night, as Mycroft sat in bed and read, a soft thump by his arm made him look up.

"Well, now, you've finally woken up," he said as he closed the book. Winston immediately began to purr and with a boldness that surprised even Mycroft, he climbed up and promptly sat down on Mycroft's chest, folding his front legs under his body as his purr grew even louder. Hesitantly, Mycroft ran his hand down the length of the cat's back, unsure of what exactly to say or do. Though part of him was tempted to throw Winston off, a part of him was…well, it actually liked having a cat sitting on his chest. It was almost as if…Winston didn't want to leave and was trying to convince Mycroft in his own way to let him stay.

Maybe there was some truth behind the famous saying of 'you don't choose the cat; the cat chooses you…'

"So you really want to stay here, do you?"

Winston gently bumped his forehead against Mycroft's chin. A thousand different protests hit him at once: no time, not an animal person, the sofa, the carpets. But among those arguments were counters: cats don't take much time, Winston's behaved enough, clip his claws-

"In that case," Mycroft mused after a minute, "there's one thing that has to happen first..."

Mycroft opened the front door to see his parents standing on the porch.

"What are you doing here?" he asked suspiciously as Mrs. Holmes quickly kissed his cheek before he could back away.

"We were in town and thought we'd drop by," Mrs. Holmes explained simply as she walked into the house, her husband following closely behind. Mycroft slowly shut the door and he waited for one of his parents to say something as they walked to the sitting room.

It was Mrs. Holmes first.

"Oh, my goodness." She sounded positively shocked. "Is that 'Sir Snickers'?"

Winston mewed loudly and Mr. Holmes let out a hearty laugh that seemed to echo around the entire house.

"I told you he was going to get shaved," he said with a cough. Mycroft walked into the sitting room and toward the scratching post where Winston was sitting and watching the new visitors without seeming embarrassed of his condition.

"Did you really expect me to deal with all that fur?" Mycroft walked to stand next to his parents. "A lion's cut is what it's called. Don't worry, it's perfectly normal for Persians. He has less hairballs and mats, and I have less fur on my clothes. A fair exchange in my opinion"

"But…won't he get cold?" Mrs. Holmes asked as she continued to stare.

"Could always buy him a cat sweater-" Mr. Holmes began to laugh again, his cheeks turning a rosy red from his wheezy chortling. Mrs. Holmes reached to pat Winston's furry head and then ran her hand down his naked body.

"You poor dear," she murmured with as much sympathy as if Winston was one of her own children. Mycroft rolled his eyes and walked to the mini bar. "Did Mrs. James not leave him to anyone in her will?"

"No." No need to divulge anything.

"Oh, what a shame."

Mr. Holmes reached to pet Winston's head. "We could always take him-" he trailed off at his wife's stare. "Or not," he finished with a somewhat disappointed smile.

"There's no need to concern yourselves with finding him a home. He's staying here."

The living room fell into a stunned silence. "You-you're going to adopt him?" Mrs. Holmes stammered. Mycroft poured himself a drink and nursed it in silence, walking to his chair to take a seat and wait for his parents to reply. "Well, that's- it's splendid that you've decided to keep him."

"Very much so," Mr. Holmes agreed with a nod as he followed his wife to take a seat on the sofa.

"You know, I have to say, I've always felt guilty for not giving you an opportunity to have a pet of your own while growing up. There was Redbeard, but we all know that he was really Sherlock's dog. It's nice that you've finally found a pet to call your own."

Mycroft looked to Winston, who blinked slowly a few times and then moved to lie down again.

A sign of deep affection.

With an extremely brief smile, Mycroft readied his ears for the endless chatter of his mother's boring life. At least Winston's easier to watch after than Sherlock, he thought to himself dryly.

It was the start of something…new.

The End

NOTE: I have to say, this wasn't the ending that I had originally planned, but you know what? I'm always up for some Anthea/Mycroft friendship because Anthea is a great character canvas to work with. At any rate, I had a great time writing this story and thank you all so much for the support and feedback!

To anyone curious about continuation: I don't have any immediate plans for this plot line, but rest assure that Winston has a permanent place in my AU arc, so you might see him pop back up someday!

Love you all and thanks again!

Georgyann