The case had been long and tiring so Sherlock couldn't wait to just return home and collapse onto the sofa. Maybe, if John was lucky, he might consider having something to eat and even sleeping. He knew that would please his partner.
Thinking about John, Sherlock thought to himself, where is he? The genius lifted his eyes away from the floor and scanned the area around him. No John. Sherlock thought back and couldn't actually remember the doctor leaving the Yard. The sociopath stopped and ran his fingers through his dark curls. He turned on the spot to see if John was walking behind him for some reason.
There was nobody. The streets were practically deserted on the warm summers evening. There was no one roaming the pavements save for the lanky detective. The genius shrugged and continued striding forward towards the flat. The sociopath's partner had probably left for some sort of course or training weekend that Sherlock had deleted. It can't be important otherwise he would remember.
The genius marched on until he was outside 221B Baker Street. He plunged his hand into his deep pockets and rummaged around. He could hear the keys rattling but the metal objects were avoiding his violinist fingers. Almost a minute later and the great detective was jerking up and down in the hopes of moving the keys to touch his hand. He groaned in frustration as the search drew on. Mrs Hudson was away so he knew that knocking on the door would achieve next to nothing. The genius was beginning to get extremely flustered and irritable when a loud noise made him look to the floor.
The tall man leapt back in disgust as the creature made the moaning noise again, "Miow!"
"Uch! Shoo! Be gone with you. Off you go." Sherlock spoke down to the animal.
The cat peered up at him curiously. The creature was blonde all over and had a light pink nose. The animal had markings like a leopard across its back. Sherlock didn't know enough about cats to identify the breed but knew that he didn't like it. The cat looked up at the genius with big blue-grey eyes. Suddenly, the blonde creature shot his head around to look down the road. It must have heard something, Sherlock mused. The fur was thinning slightly on its left shoulder as if there was a scar there.
The large deep eyes looked up at him again before the beast began to scratch its claws on the back door. The detective stamped on the concrete so that the small animal bounded away a few meters. Sherlock took this opportunity to haul his keys out of his pocket and rapidly unlock the door. He darted inside and slammed the door behind him. The man was just a second too slow as the cat's tail was millimetres from getting caught in the door as the creature elegantly ran inside.
A loud groan broke from his lips as he glared down at the skinny animal that sat beside his shoe. The detective hooked his foot under its belly and moved it outside. The cat hissed in disapproval as it was removed from the house.
Quick as a flash, the cat wrapped its legs around the sociopath's shoe and gripped on with its long claws. The detective shook his foot but the graceful creature didn't budge. Sherlock brought his leg back in the door and the cat leapt off. It bounded over to the stairs where it sat regally on the second step. The animal licked its paw and ran it over the pointy ears that stood always alert on its head.
Sherlock huffed, "What's so bad out there?"
That cat peered at him but didn't reply.
"What's out there which is making you hide in here?!" The tall man demanded to know.
The cat still didn't answer and the long tail began to move slowly backwards and forwards along the step. It wasn't enjoying being shouted at.
The lanky genius glared at the cat for a moment before groaning and slamming the door. This time he knew that the cat was inside.
"FINE!" He shouted. "Just for tonight. Don't think I'll let you stay any longer than that!"
"Miow!" Sherlock scowled at the animal as it called out happily.
"Shut up!" The man with ebony curls snapped. "You remind me of my brother." He mumbled beneath his breath.
The man stormed up the stairs and the cat was on his heels the whole time. Sherlock sped up to try and get the animal away from him. The cat simply took bigger strides and began leaping up two or three steps at once. Sherlock wanted to curse the creature's famous agility.
The sociopath reached the door to the flat and ran inside and slammed the door. This time he was successful. The cat was trapped outside and was separated from the man by a wall of wood.
The animal began to cry out in a high pitched miow and run its claws over the wood, creating the most annoying scratching noise.
"Stop it!" He snapped through the door. The cat obeyed. "I let you in but if you keep doing that I'll throw you out. I'm not letting you in here. You're probably disease ridden and smothered in fleas." Although, he had to admit that it seemed to be in good condition.
The clawing stopped, and after one more whining miow the cat fell into silence, "and you'd better not pee on Mrs Hudson's floor," he added.
Sherlock nodded to himself, glad to have shown the thing that he was boss. He moved over to the sofa and collapsed onto it. He was about to drift off to sleep when his stomach reminded him it was there. The genius pulled out his mobile and rang the nearest Chinese takeaway.
A loud knock on the door woke a snoozing Sherlock. He pushed himself up and listened in bewilderment as the visitor began cooing at something.
All his questions were answered as he opened the door and the pesky cat ran in. Sherlock span round to grab it but it had already hidden somewhere.
"Darn cat!" Sherlock bellowed.
The Chinese woman at the door shook her head as if she pitted the detective, " No, Mr Holmes. Cat is lucky."
"I didn't ask for your cultural heritage. I know enough about that already." He uttered while his eyes roamed around the room for the trouble maker. He thrust some money at the woman and shut the door on her face. He threw the takeaway onto the coffee table and got down on his hands and knees to search for the creature.
"Here, puss-puss. Come here." Sherlock called softly. He could feel eyes on him but he couldn't find the retched thing.
He stood up again and peered around the room. His eyes were suddenly drawn to movement on the coffee table. The animal was smelling the Chinese that sat on the coffee table with interest.
The genius leapt forward with his arms stretched out, ready to grasp the cat. The elegant creature sensed the detective coming and darted off towards the kitchen.
The sociopath continued on his path until he had crashed into the coffee table. He was going to have bruises tomorrow. The genius sighed in defeat and pulled his mobile out of his pocket. He needed back up.
"I need your help. A cat." He said. The other person responded and Sherlock's mouth formed a frown. "When can you come? When will you be done? Tomorrow?! Okay, fine. See you then."
The sociopath pulled his food out of the bag and began to eat it while he sat, keeping a look out, on the sofa. Every now and again he would see a glimpse of the animal before it darted into hiding.
"He's mocking me," Sherlock muttered to himself as the cat sprang up onto John's chair and sat watching him eat. The cat's deep blue-grey eyes were almost human with the emotions they displayed. He would swear that he recognised those eyes.
That night after Sherlock had fallen asleep, the cat felt smaller, cold and lonely so it set off in search of some company. It found Sherlock's door and pushed against it until it opened with a gentle click which echoed through the dark flat. The animal froze. It knew it would be back to get caught.
Silently, it moved into the room. It located the bed and with one easy leap it was on the soft blanket. The genius was snoring slightly and the cat released a low purr in satisfaction. It wriggled itself under the thick blanket and then shuffled into the gap between Sherlock's arm and torso. The man tightened his arm around the cat like a child hugging a teddy but the cat didn't mind. He just liked to feel the warmth of someone next to him.
The cat fell asleep and then all was quite apart from the light purring and soft snores.
The animal awoke suddenly as Sherlock began to shift and wake up himself. The cat tried to squirm out of Sherlock's tight hold but the movement made the genius leap into consciousness.
"Ghaaar!" Sherlock cried as he chucked the cat across the room.
The small animal hit the wall and let out a loud squeal. It fell to the floor and shot out of the room. Even though he didn't like the monster, Sherlock felt instantly bad about what he did. The man pulled himself out of bed and padded through to the kitchen. His eyes scanned the area for the blonde cat with deep blue eyes. It was nowhere to be seen, so Sherlock began to search the living room.
Molly started to tread on the stairs that led up to 221B. She could hear a word being repeated again and again. She frowned and hurried up the stairs.
As she opened the door, the sound became clearer and the woman could work out what was being called.
The genius was lying flat on the floor with his arms and head partly wedged under the sofa. "Heisenberg, come here. I just want to check that you're okay!"
"Heisenberg?" Molly asked, confused.
The detective jumped and hit his head on the bottom of the sofa, "Molly! You're here! Werner Heisenberg was a German physicist and philosopher, who is noted for his crucial contributions to quantum mechanics. He devised a method to formulate quantum mechanics in terms of matrices, for which he was awarded the 1932 Nobel Prize for Physics."
"You've named the cat?" She was shocked.
The beast, Heisenberg, then darted out from underneath the sofa to Molly's feet. She gazed down at the pretty cat.
"Oh Sherlock! He's beautiful!" She murmured as one hand reached down and stroked the animal. "It's a Bengal!"
"A Bengal?" The detective didn't know whether to be happy or concerned.
"Bengal is the breed. It's well-known for its gentle temperament and loyalty. Sherlock, I'm sure this has an owner somewhere. It's not the type of cat you just lose. They are very expensive." The cat pushed its blonde head into the woman's soft touch.
"So if it has an owner why is it here?" Sherlock leant his head to the side in a questioning matter.
"Must have taken a fancy to you or maybe it was scared. It must have been well looked after. I doubt it has been outside before." She muttered thoughtfully. "He's got beautiful eyes. Very deep."
The cat gazed up at Molly and purred softly.