Title: Making the Connection
Summary: There is an unexpected visitor already waiting for John when he comes home. Spoiler free.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Moffat, Gatiss & SACD.
A/N: The prompt came from the incredible floppybelly (whose "Oneword prompts: Sherlock" you should definitely check out, it's amazing!). Depending on whether or not I get another prompt I will continue (if you have any suggestions you can prompt me in the reviews).
John was absolutely knackered when he finally got off the tube and walked the last few steps to his house. Sherlock had kept him up all night with their latest case, which the consulting detective had finally solved at 5:30 that very morning. John had decided that he had no choice but to go to work despite the all-nighter he pulled to help with the case, he needed the money.
He came to an abrupt halt after he had stepped inside Baker Street 221. There was a cat sitting on the steps leading up to his flat, staring at him intently with yellow eyes. How the hell did it get in here?
"Arthur! There you are, you little rascal." It was Mrs Hudson, passing him in the hallway. The cat's ear twitched in her direction but its eyes were still very much focused on John.
"Since when do you own a cat, Mrs Hudson?" He asked tiredly, wondering whether the landlady had told him before and he had simply forgotten it. He wasn't Sherlock; he didn't have a mind palace, maybe a mind-cottage at best.
"Oh, no, no, no. I don't own Arthur, he is a bit of a stray, comes around every few days to get a bowl of milk and some food. Does it with all the neighbours, but he knows better than to go bother Sherlock. It didn't end well the one time he tried." By now she had picked up the pitch black cat which instantly began to purr, but still kept its gaze fixed on him.
John came over to her and held a tentative hand in front of Arthur's head.
"Oh, don't worry, he can be a bit of a show-off sometimes with his hissing and claws, but he never once bit me. Although he does have a bit of a temper if you keep him inside for too long because he gets bored." Mrs Hudson claimed.
"You know what they say, opposites attract and likes repel", John muttered while he petted the head and the chest of the little creature that lay in his landlady's arms. Despite his exhaustion he had to grin a little. Black, long and soft fur that felt so good between his fingers, a small purr, intent staring and getting bored too easily; that did sound awfully familiar.