Thank you to those who liked the idea for this story and will hopefully continue to like it.
Here's another chapter for you. Enjoy.
Sherlock does not belong to me.
…
He watched from the side while she flitted about the kitchen just as she had done the night previous.
She hadn't been properly prepared to actually have a pet so soon, and so did not have the supplies necessary for him to stay with her. She ended up sharing her meal with him since she did not have any cat food, but assured him she would remember to pick some up when she came home the next day.
Her work day must have been hectic though, for she had forgotten and came home looking worn with the stench of blood, death, and that particular sterile smell accustomed to hospitals sticking to her.
To most, it would be an off putting scent. For him, he was quite use to it from his own life and experiences.
He wouldn't call it comforting, that would be an entirely wrong description of it, but it was familiar and brought with it memories.
Underlying those smells, was purely her. He was surprised to find how delectable her scent was to him, and how strong it came through under everything else. He acknowledged his liking of it, but refused to think on it any further or let it affect him in any way.
Molly turned her head in search of that sly little creature who had slept on her couch last night and who was so quiet when he walked that he had scared her heart into her throat in the morning as she got ready for work when he seemed to just show up right behind her.
Brown eyes met mythical blue. She gasped in surprise and her hand fluttered over her chest. The cat did it again, appearing right there on the counter where he sat watching her without her even realizing he had moved from the living room where she had found him after coming home sun bathing in one of the last rays of light still showing before the sun set.
"Are you going to make a habit of that?" Her voice came out with a small squeak as if she were a mouse under the gaze of a cat hunting her.
His only response to her question was a turn of the head and look of confusion - which to her was absolutely adorable every time he did that certain head tilt move. She elaborated, though she still didn't know why she was crazy enough to go along thinking the cat could understand her anyway.
"You are trying to scare me aren't you? Just showing up places, not making a sound… I don't even know how you manage that, being so silent when you move." She gave him an accusatory look. His head reverted to its normal position and a glint of mischief shined in his eyes as he seemed to smile at her. She scoffed at the look he gave her. "I knew it, you are doing it on purpose." She said indignantly.
He wasn't actually doing it to frighten her, though he found it to be a most amusing response, he simply made no sound because he had learned not to. He had to be stealthy and silent, it was the best way to live, to survive, if you went unnoticed. Since it was a habit, he couldn't break it and he ended up giving her a fright ever time he appeared near her.
She was going to have to buy him a bell to put around his neck, she thought obstinately as she turned back and continued cooking.
"I made extra for you. Sorry I didn't go to the shops yet. Completely left my mind. I also should get you a bed, probably a liter box too, maybe a collar- preferably with a bell on it." She glanced over at him to see he looked angry and offended by her words.
He refused to have a collar, to show he was her property, he was nothing of the sort. She would debilitate him if she put a bell on him, alerting his presence everywhere he went - he would stubbornly refuse both if she attempted to give him either. He didn't need a liter box, she left the window open - although it was a stupid thing for a woman living alone to do, at least she did it to the one that was small and not easily accessible to humans - and he could go out on his own. A bed was also unnecessary, he slept on the couch just fine. She had offered her bed to him as well, and although her extra warmth would be highly welcome and well appreciated, he decided against lying with her.
She took the glare to mean something she said did not sit well with the cat. "What? Do you not want those things?" She was bewildered by this creature and everything about him.
When he nodded indicating he, in fact, did not want any of what she had suggested, she took that and spoke of it no more.
That was when she noticed the food starting to burn in the pan. She uttered a series of swears, as he watched on amused, and she quickly removed the food.
She sighed disappointed, but salvaged most of the meal and went about sharing it with him.
(O.O)
It was surprising how well the cat seemed to be able to move with the hurt arm, she mused. He had managed to even jump up on the counter earlier and still without a lick of sound to accompany it.
Speaking of the wound, Molly got up from her finished meal and put the dishes in the sink before approaching the cat to check its injury.
He let her pick him up and carry him to the couch where he was set back down and the kind woman softly took his arm in her hand as she had yesterday. He hated this, feeling helpless, feeling like he needed someone, but he couldn't very well take care of his own injury and had to rely on this woman. Part of him wanted to resent her for it, for making him give into being taken care of - he couldn't though, and it frustrated him all the more.
Slow and careful, she unwrapped the bandaging she had covered his wound with. He made no move to harm her and she carried on applying the antiseptic cream and new bandage on his arm.
"There we go. You are doing very good. Just a little more and it'll be over. I'm sorry if it hurts at all." He listened to her soothing words as she treated him and found it was rather comforting, he found he felt safe with her, felt he could trust her. That look must have shown through because the next thing he knew she was done and now petting him, making him start to actually purr in satisfaction.
"Such a good boy. You did so good. If I had any treats, I would make you fat with them. You really are a sweet thing aren't you." She cooed as she continued her petting until he seemed to snap out of his lulled relaxed state she had put him in when he discovered he was enjoying her touch and literally purring for her.
He shook making her remove her hands, then jumped off the couch and away from that woman and her deceptively wonderful hands. How she could bring him apart with such ease was startling and frightening all in one, yet some part of him found it intriguing, fascinated that she had this odd sort of power over him, able to render him putty in her hands.
He wanted to hate it because he was never at anyone's mercy, he was always the one in control. But the way she was so tender with him, making it so very easy to trust her and allow himself to fall under her sweet touches, it left him powerless and without control, still unable to hate her for it or make himself not feel the allure she presented.
She only sighed at his behavior, something she would quickly learn changed often and would have to adjust and get use to. One minute he would be cold and distant, not letting her near him at all and escaping from her touch, the next he was following her about in the flat or sitting with her on the couch where he let her pet him and he would sink into her touch completely and enjoy listening to the words she would speak to him even if they were sometimes mushy.
It was like he was fighting himself and her at the same time over giving in or staying away. Not sure if he should allow himself the pleasure and joy she brought, lighting up his rather dark life, or if he should get as far away from her light before it burned the both of them.
(O.O)
Days seemed to fly by like this. They formed a sort of tentative acceptance of each other and one another's habits.
She would often tell him of her day and of observations she made or funny stories and he would listen sometimes with rapt attention others he seemed in his own world, but most of the time it happened as she petted him bringing a kind of comfort to both.
He got use to her turning on some music when she would clean, and sometimes when she cooked as well, usually resulting in her doing her own sort of dance to the music and occasionally singing along with the words. He took it as another way for her to relieve stress while being very silly, he couldn't help but like it finding it funny and endearing from that peculiar charm she had about her.
He found her to be just about as odd of a creature as she found him to be. Although he could see why he would win if it were a competition and he could see the way she eyed him as if he was the strangest being she had ever come across, and it was entirely true.
He would sometimes greet her when she came home, other times he would be too busy doing his own thing.
What he did when she wasn't around remained a mystery to her, and sometimes she would leave in the morning without even having gained his attention once and would come home to find him in the exact same spot as he had been when she left him. It was those times that she worried about the cat and made sure to check on him.
He would look annoyed at her for having disturbed his weird trance like state, then brush it off when he seemed to realize he hadn't moved the entire day and that she was simply worrying over him, not purposely trying to distract him.
The toys she bought him seemed to go untouched until one day she came home to find a very odd sight. Her cat had, for some unexplainable reason, took apart some of the thread pieces of the toys and looked to have almost been trying to decipher something about them, as if they were foreign objects that needed dissecting.
The odd behavior of this cat was something she got use to, well as best as one could get use to their pet doing such strange things.
However the most disturbing thing she ever found her cat doing was a time when she had come home from her second date with a sweet guy named Eric she had met at a coffee shop when she accidently bumped into him and spilled his coffee all over his shirt and tie. Instead of the reaction she thought he would have, she ended up exchanging phone numbers with him.
After the second date, she walked into her flat and made her way into her room to remove her jewelry and clothes to take a shower. She was passing by the living room where she left a light on for her cat - who she really needed to name, but couldn't seem to come up with the right one, nothing seemed to fit this odd creature - when she started toward him after noticing him on the floor.
That wasn't the weird part, obviously, it was what he was doing. A book lie under his paws that kept the pages open while he read the words on the page.
She literally stopped dead in her tracks and a loud gasp made the cat's head flick up from the page and stare right back at her. It was then that she finally freaked out. Every odd experience she had with this cat seemed to whirl in her mind as she couldn't quite process what she was seeing, her cat reading…reading. No cat should be able to comprehend at such a level.
He hadn't meant to get caught, he had been too enwrapped in the book that he didn't notice her before and now he could see what a huge mistake it was to have risked reading while she was only to be gone for a short while on her date.
She continually repeated the word no and the phrase this is not possible while seeming to have a meltdown pacing back and forth and coming to a stop only to stare at her cat again and repeat the cycle once more.
She was somewhere between frightened and amazed, but knew for sure that it was not natural. It definitely freaked the hell out of her. Whose cat knows how to read for crying out loud!
He just watched the scene unsure of what to do, what she would do, if she would throw him out, try to harm him thinking he was some king of abomination, or what. All he knew was he wasn't going to move until she figured out her next move.
As it happened she eventually calmed down and then simply stared at him for a good long minute before turning away retreating into her bedroom.
No consequences ever came from it much to his surprise, but unbeknownst to him, she woke up with a headache and a memory of her cat reading and shrugged it off thinking it a delusion, a trick of the mind, a product of the wine she drank on her date. Something in the back of her mind nagged at her and refused to let her simply forget it though, so it remained there stuck, permanently seared into her mind.
From then on he hid his eccentric activities from her as best he could. He didn't know why he bothered, or why he chose to still stay, his paw had healed and there remained a small fading scar, and he didn't need to remain there any longer, yet he did.
He had fallen into a comfortable routine and actually found that he liked it, liked being here, being taken care of by her, just having her there giving him attention and affection.
Those thoughts simultaneously scared him and made him happy. He didn't understand it and he wanted to turn away from her, from all of it- those sweet touches, kind adoring words, and soft chocolate brown eyes that drew him in much too far for his own good imploring and luring him to stay for a little while longer- and just leave.
He told himself almost daily since his wound had healed that he would leave. He didn't belong there. Not anymore. Still he stayed without a reason to explain it while knowing full well he should just go.
…
So…yeah this is happening. If you liked it let me know. Thanks. Until next time.