Author's Note: Martin Freeman is made of jam, kittens, tacky sweaters, and rage. By extent, John Watson is made of these things as well. So, it makes sense that John would love cats.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. I just own my pillow with chibi!Sherlock and John that I got at the Pacific Media Expo over a month ago.
221B was a lonely place without a bored, high-functioning sociopath. On most days, John did nothing but make tea, knit sweaters, and watch T.V. The T.V. was the only electronic device John used nowadays, save for calling friends or hanging up on telemarketers on his phone.
In a nutshell, when you have Sherlock Holmes as a roommate, things are very exciting and interesting. When he's gone, things are depressing and - in Sherlock's words - boring.
It was a semi-normal day in 221B, and John was still bored and depressed. He didn't go on his blog since it brought back too many memories, Mrs. Hudson was out playing bingo, and absolutely nothing was on T.V.
"Boring! Everything's boring!" John caught himself mumbling. "Even the T.V. shows shown on this very day are boring!"
With a sigh, John finally settled on a channel. Currently, this channel was showing a commercial for a London animal shelter. And, the commercial just happened to be all about cats and their kittens playing around and looking cute.
"You could have a new best friend by now. Stop by the London animal shelter today to ask about our cat adoptions."
John turned off the T.V. He always loved cats. His first pet was a cat named Ace, and his grandmother owned a beautiful tabby by the name of Winston. It was only natural that a man of the Watson family should go out and buy a cat to ease his loneliness.
A few days later, John was at the animal shelter picking up his new cat. He decided on a rather fat, white cat with black patches of fur.
"My, isn't he a fat cat?" John remarked as the shelter worker handed him the cat carrier with his new cat.
"Yes, he is. He likes to take naps in the sunshine," The shelter worker explained. "Have you given it a name?"
"A name?" John asked. "I'd get too emotional if I named it 'Sherlock'. Sherlock... Locke... Sher... Sheryl... Cyril. It's name will be Cyril."
"Excellent choice," The shelter worker said as John signed some papers. "Cyril is all yours. I hope you enjoy him."
"Thank you," John said as he picked up Cryil's cage. John then decided to stop at Tesco on the way home to pick up supplies and toys for his new cat, seeing as though Cyril needed to lose weight.
The next morning, after a long night of playing with Cyril, John awoke to knocking at his door.
"John, I know you're in there! Open up right this bloody minute!"
"What does Mrs. Hudson want now?" John muttered to himself as he threw on his robe. Then, he ran to the door, where an angry Mrs. Hudson was awaiting him.
"Good morning, Mrs. Hudson. What seems to be the trouble?" John asked.
"You have a cat, right?" Mrs. Hudson asked. John just nodded. "Then explain to me why it was making such a bloody racket last night. I couldn't get a wink of sleep."
"Well, I just got him yesterday, so he must be homesi -" John explained as he felt something tug at the bottom of his robe. John looked down, and he saw Cyril, who was noticeably thinner than the previous day. "Mrs. Hudson, meet Cyril. He's my new cat. He -"
High-pitched mews cut John off, and they weren't from Cyril.
"Looks like Cyril's a 'Sheryl'," Mrs. Hudson commented. John grew pale.
"Oh, bugger..." John said before he put Cyril on the ground and ran into the kitchen. "What the hell?! He had kittens last night?!"
A few weeks later, John still had the kittens, as he was unable to find homes for them. It was hard work to raise Sheryl (who used to be called "Cyril"), Molly, Gregory, Sally, Locke, and Sebastian, and Mrs. Hudson was not happy about it.
"John, you need to get rid of these cats. This is an apartment, not an animal shelter," Mrs. Hudson explained before taking a sip of her tea.
"I'm trying, Mrs. Hudson. Nobody wants to take my kittens," John explained.
"John, at this apartment building, you are only allowed to have a maximum of two cats or dogs. You have six cats, which exceeds the limit. I will give you one week to get rid of them, or you will be evicted," Mrs. Hudson explained. "You can even use your blog to help you."
"I tried that. Nobody messaged me for an offer," John explained.
The next morning, at a location in London that had coffee, free wi-fi, T.V., and lots of people, Sherlock was idily checking the news on his phone, when the BBC interrupted their morning programming with breaking news. (1)
"We have some very bizzare breaking news going on right now in London. Right now, a desperate man is using the BBC to try to give away kittens so he can stay in his apartment. We go live now to the apartment complex in question to speak with the man."
Sherlock looked up to the T.V., not expecting much. Instead, John was on the television, and he was holding five, black-and-white kittens.
"I love cats. I love every single one of these cats," John explained on the television. For that brief moment, Sherlock was concerned that Moriarty was behind this as part of a grand scheme to bring Sherlock down even further. "I just want to hug them all. But, no I can't hug them. I can't hug every single one of these cats, because I have to give them away to loving homes."
Without a word, Sherlock turned off his phone and got up from his seat.
"Well, then. Looks like I'm coming out of hiding," Sherlock commented.
(1) - The place Sherlock's at can be any place that has T.V., free wi-fi, coffee, and lots of people hanging around. I see it as either a hotel, train station, or a Starbucks.
Review if you want to see John fanfics that are about jam, sweaters, and rage.