Holmes fic: Cat Bath
Title: Cat Bath
Universe: ACD canon (Spencer-verse)
Rating: G
Wordcount: 584
Characters: Watson, Spencer
Summary: Spencer needs some help cleaning off.
A/N: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #14: Not So Cute. It's easy to be shmoopy when there are adorable baby animals involved. Try to create something shmoopy with a less-than-adorable and/or not-quite-a-baby animal.
I might use this for hc_bingo as my wild card square ("taking care of somebody").
Part of Spencer-verse (during the hiatus).
I was fretting over a draft of a case I wanted to publish but I couldn't seem to change the details adequately to protect the identities of those involved without making the case sound nonsensical. Then the sitting room door creaked open and a plaintive mewl reached my ears.
I turned to find Spencer hunched on the doormat, looking miserable. He was half-covered in what looked like mud, as if he'd rolled in it. When he tried to lick his paw free of the stuff, his face got this look that on a human might have been disgust, but on a furry face was hard to tell. In any case, it was evident that he was not pleased by the taste.
"Wait there just a moment," I said to him, hoping he wouldn't move and soil Mrs. Hudson's rugs. I had to think quickly about the best way to wash a cat and decided to simply take him into the bathroom and figure it out there. At least that floor was easily cleaned.
I wrapped an old towel around him before I picked him up; at that distance I could smell the reason for Spencer's distress. "Did you fall in the sewer, you silly boy?"
Spencer made a sad-sounding mew that I'd never heard before, and if I was a little upset at the mess before, it was impossible to remain upset when he sounded so forlorn.
Trying to clean the mess from his fur was a trial, but he put up less of a fuss than I expected. The disdain of cats for water was proverbial, yet Spencer did not attempt an escape, even when I had to set him in the bathtub beneath the running taps. Whenever he could, he clung to me desperately, his entire body quivering.
After the sludge was removed, I washed him carefully with soap and water, then had pry his claws from my shirt in order to hold him under the taps again to rinse his fur thoroughly.
When I finally wrapped him in a clean towel, I took a deep breath in relief. I would have left him on the floor, swaddled in the towel, while I cleaned up the tub and sink and collected all the dirty washcloths, but he meowed anxiously when I set him down. So I held him in one arm like an infant while I set the room back to rights, though Mrs. Hudson would no doubt insist upon cleaning it again once I told her what had transpired.
After that I had to change my clothes, still carrying Spencer with me, and we finally settled in front of the sitting room fire about two hours after Spencer's arrival. His fur remained quite damp, even when I tried rubbing it briskly with another towel.
As soon as I ceased assaulting him with the towel, Spencer began grooming himself, purring all the while. I stroked his back and marveled at how much smaller he looked with his fur slicked down.
We remained comfortably ensconced in my armchair until Mrs. Hudson arrived with dinner and exclaimed over the half-wet cat. I explained what had happened and she fussed over him, carrying him downstairs with the promise of a good, restorative supper. When Spencer finally returned, he looked quite satisfied and jumped back into my lap, still purring.
It was nearly time for bed before his fur was fully dry. I don't think he went outside again for a full day and a half.
Universe: ACD canon (Spencer-verse)
Rating: G
Wordcount: 584
Characters: Watson, Spencer
Summary: Spencer needs some help cleaning off.
A/N: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #14: Not So Cute. It's easy to be shmoopy when there are adorable baby animals involved. Try to create something shmoopy with a less-than-adorable and/or not-quite-a-baby animal.
I might use this for hc_bingo as my wild card square ("taking care of somebody").
Part of Spencer-verse (during the hiatus).
I was fretting over a draft of a case I wanted to publish but I couldn't seem to change the details adequately to protect the identities of those involved without making the case sound nonsensical. Then the sitting room door creaked open and a plaintive mewl reached my ears.
I turned to find Spencer hunched on the doormat, looking miserable. He was half-covered in what looked like mud, as if he'd rolled in it. When he tried to lick his paw free of the stuff, his face got this look that on a human might have been disgust, but on a furry face was hard to tell. In any case, it was evident that he was not pleased by the taste.
"Wait there just a moment," I said to him, hoping he wouldn't move and soil Mrs. Hudson's rugs. I had to think quickly about the best way to wash a cat and decided to simply take him into the bathroom and figure it out there. At least that floor was easily cleaned.
I wrapped an old towel around him before I picked him up; at that distance I could smell the reason for Spencer's distress. "Did you fall in the sewer, you silly boy?"
Spencer made a sad-sounding mew that I'd never heard before, and if I was a little upset at the mess before, it was impossible to remain upset when he sounded so forlorn.
Trying to clean the mess from his fur was a trial, but he put up less of a fuss than I expected. The disdain of cats for water was proverbial, yet Spencer did not attempt an escape, even when I had to set him in the bathtub beneath the running taps. Whenever he could, he clung to me desperately, his entire body quivering.
After the sludge was removed, I washed him carefully with soap and water, then had pry his claws from my shirt in order to hold him under the taps again to rinse his fur thoroughly.
When I finally wrapped him in a clean towel, I took a deep breath in relief. I would have left him on the floor, swaddled in the towel, while I cleaned up the tub and sink and collected all the dirty washcloths, but he meowed anxiously when I set him down. So I held him in one arm like an infant while I set the room back to rights, though Mrs. Hudson would no doubt insist upon cleaning it again once I told her what had transpired.
After that I had to change my clothes, still carrying Spencer with me, and we finally settled in front of the sitting room fire about two hours after Spencer's arrival. His fur remained quite damp, even when I tried rubbing it briskly with another towel.
As soon as I ceased assaulting him with the towel, Spencer began grooming himself, purring all the while. I stroked his back and marveled at how much smaller he looked with his fur slicked down.
We remained comfortably ensconced in my armchair until Mrs. Hudson arrived with dinner and exclaimed over the half-wet cat. I explained what had happened and she fussed over him, carrying him downstairs with the promise of a good, restorative supper. When Spencer finally returned, he looked quite satisfied and jumped back into my lap, still purring.
It was nearly time for bed before his fur was fully dry. I don't think he went outside again for a full day and a half.