John quietly tapped on the keyboard of his laptop while stroking Hamish on his lap, it had been almost a week since the 'mouse' incident and Sherlock was away at the morgue. Suddenly, the door was nearly flung off its hinges

"We have a case!" Sherlock cried with delight "2 Homicides!" Hamish jumped off John's lap and into Sherlock's arms

"Hello, Hamish! How was your day with John? Was it boring? I bet it was boring." Sherlock stroked the cat affectionately, it purred and rubbed against Sherlock's chest "Do you want to come with us on the case?" the cat's ears pricked up, it tilted its head and meowed.

"I think that's a yes." John said and got up to put on his coat

"I don't think Lestrade will be happy with you taking a cat to a crime scene."

"Hamish will be a good boy. Won't you?" the cat rubbed against Sherlock. "Yes you will."

It was decided that Hamish would come along for the case. When they did arrive Sherlock and John got weird looks off practically everybody,

"Oh, look" Sally had said "Freak's got a pet." Sherlock had merely ignored her. As they entered the building Hamish struggled in Sherlock's arms, it climbed into his shoulder before calming and settling there.

"Comfortable there are we?" Sherlock mused and Hamish meowed. Lestrade appeared

"Ah, there you are, the bo- What the hell is that?" Lestrade looked at Hamish

"It is a cat." Sherlock said simply

"I can see that. But what the hell is it doing on your shoulder –and more importantly- at a crime scene?"

"Do you want me to solve this murder or not?" Sherlock sighed

"Of course I do, but not with a flippin' cat on your shoulder."

"What's wrong with Hamish?" Sherlock pouted

"Gentlemen, please." John butted in "Lestrade, just let the cat in, otherwise you'll be arguing for the whole day."

"Fine…" Lestrade gave in and led the pair to the crime scene. Lestrade gave Sherlock all the information he needed and let him deduce the rest. Hamish jumped off Sherlock's shoulders and circled the body for himself.

Sherlock inspected the body closely and ignored Hamish. The body was a woman, her hair was blonde, dyed. No ring on finger, Single. Nails half painted, forced to leave. Sweaty palms, held at gun point. Sherlock muttered points out as he looked at the body. The woman had a bullet wound to the back, close range.

"It's clear the woman was shot dead at point blank range. She's single, dyed blonde and held at gun point as she was escorted here, she's middle aged, most likely 45 or 46. Do you know her name?"

"No, we hadn't managed to find anything on her." Lestrade stated and Hamish mewled softly and shimmied under the couch of the room.

"Hamish, get back here!" John sighed and crouched next to the sofa. Hamish emerged a minute later with something in his mouth. "What on Earth?" Sherlock plucked it from Hamish and inspected the card; it was the Woman's I.D.
Sherlock smiled and picked up Hamish

"Her name is Claudia Brussels, she's 46. No children." Lestrade looked at Hamish who held his head up proudly.

"Good boy…" Sherlock whispered and stroked Hamish. "You truly are the cat of 221B Baker Street."