Sherlock was lying on the couch, eyes closed and breathing deeply. His ears (the large cat ones) twitched occasionally as John looked down at him. His tail was curled up, resting on his side. John could hardly stop himself from reaching down and scratching Sherlock between his twitching ears. Immediately the detective was sitting straight up, pressing into John's fingers and purring like mad. His tail also sprang to life and he made a loud meowing sound. John chuckled slightly and scratched at Sherlock's left ear. The ear bent slightly and so did Sherlock's head and the meowing persisted.

"You're so cute," John mused.

A hissing noise escaped Sherlock's mouth and he jerked away from John, curling up in the corner of the sofa. Sherlock glared at him with those huge green-blue eyes. John smiled softly and sat down next to him. He opened his arms in the universal "Come into my arms" signal. Sherlock just hissed and looked away.

"Oh, come on; don't be like that," John pleaded, "I won't call you cute any more if that makes you feel better. I'm sorry. I know this is hard for you. I'm just trying to be helpful."

Sherlock let out some sort of guttural growling sound and cast himself into John's lap. He curled up, mostly on John, only his feet and ankles hung off of John's legs. John reached down and petted Sherlock's side. Sherlock purred at him and snuggled back against John's stomach. His tail flicked about and curled around John's arm. John chuckled and kept on petting his side. Sherlock meowed his mouth opening around the o sound. John could hardly contain his delight.

"I'm sorry! You're just too adorable!" John burst.

"No, I'm not!" Sherlock whined, "I'm manly."

But is voice was half-hearted and quiet. John smiled down at him softly as Sherlock carried on his purring and meowing. Soon he felt asleep. Leaving John stuck underneath a hundred and fifty pound consulting detective. He slowly toed off his shoes and gently moved Sherlock and himself until he was lying on his side with Sherlock curled against him. He laid an arm across Sherlock and fell asleep to the soft sounds of Sherlock's purring.


Several days after the sentimental moment of sleeping together on the sofa, Sherlock was twitching about nervously. He was pacing about the flat and John was pretty sure one of his legs was vibrating. Occasionally, Sherlock would stop and his body would shake all over, his hands rubbing furiously at his head.

As Sherlock passed John caught a whiff of something coming off of Sherlock. It came off in waves and had John sniffing the air trying to figure out what the smell was. Because man, it smelled, soo delicious. Sherlock would occasionally look at John and a noise would erupt from low in his throat. But he would jerk his head away and start pacing again. John tried to ignore Sherlock, but wow, he smelled good!

"John!" Sherlock groaned.

John's eyes snapped up from his book. Sherlock was close to him, standing over him. His hands were shakily holding the edges of the arms of the chair. The smell came off in in waves like a hot stove. It was practically mouthwatering. Sherlock's face was twisted in a look of pain and torture. John valiantly tried to ignore the smell.

"Wh-what's wrong, Sherlock?" John questioned shakily.

"J-John," Sherlock cleared his throat loudly, "I'm…I'm in…Jesus fuck, Sherlock, just bloody fucking say it already!"

John jumped slightly at the outburst. Sherlock took calming breaths above him.

"I'm in heat," Sherlock mumbled.

John blinked owlishly up at him.

"I'm sorry, what?" John questioned.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and shakily sat on one of John's knees. John's eyebrows came together in confusion.

"Please don't act stupid," Sherlock muttered, "You know what heat is."

Sherlock's eyes squeezed shut and he rocked back and forth on John's knee.

"Wh-what are you doing?" John questioned weakly.

"I just said I'm in heat!" Sherlock snapped.

"B-but, how? You're male!" John insisted, trying to ignore the intoxicating scent and the way Sherlock was riding his leg.

"The cat DNA that got fused with mine was female," Sherlock answered, in a distant, disinterested voice, "My body apparently thinks I must conceive a litter of kittens. NOW."

John jumped at the emphasized word.

"B-but you can't conceive a litter of kittens!" John protested.

"Obviously not," Sherlock murmured in an irritated voice, "But my hormones seem to think that I can."

John watched as Sherlock rocked his ass against his leg. The scent was making his eyes and mouth water.

"That explains why you smell so damn good," John groaned.

"Do I?" Sherlock asked, his eyes popping open in curiosity, "What do I smell like?"

"No idea," John answered, "But it smells delicious."

"Does it make you want to fuck me?" Sherlock questioned, his head cocking to the right.

"Yes, obviously," John muttered, "Isn't that the point?"

"Yes," Sherlock admitted, "So why aren't you doing it?"

John paused to rub his fingers against his temples in an effort to clear his mind. It wasn't easy, considering Sherlock hadn't stopped his rocking against John's leg.

"Because you're my friend," John answered finally.

"So it's not because I'm a guy?" Sherlock pressed.

"No! Jesus, Sherlock," John sputtered frantically, "Please stop doing that!"

"Doing what?" Sherlock asked innocently.

"Rubbing on my leg like that!" John grumbled.

He closed his eyes and pressed his palms into them.

"Oh," Sherlock stated, sliding off of John's leg.

John was startled by the easy win. He opened his eyes and blinked several times. Sherlock was on his hands and knees in front of him, and his tail was curved up towards his back in universal cat language for "Fuck me now!" John groaned loudly and pressed his palms back into his eyes.

"That's not helping, Sherlock," John mumbled at him.

"I didn't mean to," Sherlock said timidly, "It just sort of happened."

John looked back down at Sherlock, who was looking at him over his shoulder, his eyes wide in innocence and fear. John immediately felt guilty. He slid down to the floor and crawled over to in front of Sherlock. He sat on his knees in front of the scared kitten and placed his hands on either side of his face.

"It's ok, Sherlock," John assured him, "We'll figure this out, ok?"

"What's there to figure out, John?" Sherlock demanded, "Just fuck me!"

John felt a shock go through him. It was half-pleasant and half-torturous.

"I can't do that, Sherlock," John answered.

"Why not?!" Sherlock asked in an urgent manner, "I need it and you find me attractive, so let's just do it!"

John felt something perk up inside of him (no, not that, you perv, I said inside him). Something hopeful. Something that loved Sherlock. Something that thought this may just be his chance to have Sherlock, not just physically, but emotionally. John snorted and pushed that hopefulness away. Sherlock was demented by hormones and John just so happened to be the nearest male. That was as simple as it was. And John would not allow himself to stoop that low. He wouldn't be the quick, needy shag. He couldn't do that to his poor, frail heart.

"We'll find you a prostitute," John said finally, though the thought made him want to scream, cry, puke, and kill something.


Little note: O.O I have no idea what happened...I was all like "Oh, look at me with this semi-humorous bit about John and Cat Sherlock, I'm so clever!" And then the Slash Gods descended upon me and said "Dude, hook up your readers man. Hook them up with that sexy Sherlock in heat, you know what I mean." And really, how can I refuse the Slash Gods? So, hope you enjoyed it! Love ya all!