The Curious Case of Kittens
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Inspired by this prompt: "I'd blame this prompt on hormones, but the idea has been in my head for a while. Sherlock and John arrive at Scotland Yard to bug Lestrade for a new case, only to find a bunch of kittens crawling over Lestrade's desk. I had imagined Lestrade & Co. finding the abandoned kittens at a crime scene and bringing them back to Scotland Yard while they waited for the RSPCA to claim them."
Author's Note: ...yeah.
Words: 1002
John had told Sherlock that they could at least go for a walk, do something to help time pass. To his surprise, the third time he asked (around four in the afternoon) Sherlock had jumped out of the sofa, disappeared, come back in one of his suits and said ”Let's go”. It soon turns out why he was so eager; instead of going for a walk, they're going to Scotland Yard. Sherlock had decided that if Lestrade won't answer his texts (He did answer them, John replies, but he doesn't need your help right now), Sherlock might just as well get over there and bug him in person.
They have to blame Donovan for how unprepared they were since it was she who'd distracted them by saying ”freak is here” to which Sherlock of course had to reply with asking if she always slept on the left side of her bed or if it was only on the nights when Anderson was there. As they enter Lestrade's room he is just about to explain it to John.
”Of course I know that she always sleeps--” Then he stops mid-sentence and John gives him a surprised look before turning his head away from Sherlock's face to...
To Lestrade covered in kittens. John blinks. Sherlock blinks. Lestrade is busy getting one of the kittens, a gray one, off his head. Then he looks up, and blinks. John clears his throat.
”Are we... uhm... wha...”
”Where did all these cats come from?” Sherlock finally asks, saying cats as if he ment vermin. There's kittens everywhere; one of them, a white one, is playing with his pens, two are playing with each other, an orange one is asleep, one seems to be in Lestrades lap, trying to climb up, one just emerges from his back and snuggles against Lestrade's left ear, a speckled kitten is laying on the side playing with a piece of paper, a black one is about to fall off the edge of the table but Lestrade saves it with his right hand, the left is still putting the gray one down.
”Kittens, Sherlock. From a case of an old woman dying, as old women do, in her home. She... liked cats.”
”And uhm,” John steps in,”how did all the cats end up here?”
”The RSPCA can't take them tonight, something about a fire at the closest shelter. No animals were hurt,” he hastily adds, ”but they can't accept more at the moment. And I thought that overnight they can't be too bad.” The black one is once again about to jump down from the table, but John picks it up.
”Hey there little... boy,” he states. ”Aren't you cute?” Sherlock looks at him as if he just turned into a pile of manure, but Lestrade gives him a smile. The other white cat, the one that snuggled with his ear, is now falling asleep on Lestrade's shoulder.
”They're actually kind of cute, aren't they?” He tickles the speckled kitten. John holds the black one up to Sherlock who wrinkles his nose and backs away.
”How can you not like kittens, Sherlock?” John asks as he holds the black one in his arms again.
”They're... animals. And they're boring.” Lestrade looks at him.
”Boring? You never know what they're about to do next.” As to prove his point, his pencil stand falls down the table with a loud bang and all his pens go flying. All the kittens are startled (except for the orange one) and the two guilty ones are standing on the edge of the table, looking at the chaos beneath them.
”Sir, your cat carriers,” Donovan enters the room. She makes certain not to get too close to Sherlock.
”Put them by the table,” Lestrade says as he's trying to capture the two kittens and stop them from going after the pens rolling on the floor. Once Donovan's put the carry boxes down and is leaving the room she looks at John as she's trying to suppress a laugh. John tries really hard not to grin and give them away. Sherlock gives him a dubious look as if John is just about to burst out laughing at a funeral. Sherlock isn't finding this funny at all, quite the opposite it's extremely dull and there is no case. John is still holding the black kitten but it doesn't seem to want to be petted any more, so he puts him down on the table again.
”Well, I guess we should leave you to it, then.”
”Finally,” Sherlock breathes. John nearly rolls his eyes. Sherlock was bored the whole day and if he wanted to leave he could've just done so. John knows he's stayed because there isn't anything else to do, but still.
”Go and find some cold case to play with, Sherlock,” Lestrade says as he's now trying to stop the white kitten to crawl from his shoulder to his head, using his ear as support. The one on his lap is busy playing with his shirt. Sherlock sighs dramatically as he leaves.
”Yeah, well.. good luck with the cats,” John says as he's heading after Sherlock. Lestrade just nods as he's trying to get the kittens into the carriers.
Lestrade really loves cats, has always done. Due to his work he could never have one though, so he let's the kittens play in his bed as he lay there and reads. As he then puts them into the home-made playpen at the corner of the bedroom (he's bought some cat food, put a few blankets there for them to play and snuggle in and made a litter box out of what he could find) he can't help but to hug each and everyone of the little buggers. Turning off the lights and getting in bed, he smiles as he hears them meowing before they too fall asleep.
Summary: Inspired by this prompt: "I'd blame this prompt on hormones, but the idea has been in my head for a while. Sherlock and John arrive at Scotland Yard to bug Lestrade for a new case, only to find a bunch of kittens crawling over Lestrade's desk. I had imagined Lestrade & Co. finding the abandoned kittens at a crime scene and bringing them back to Scotland Yard while they waited for the RSPCA to claim them."
Author's Note: ...yeah.
Words: 1002
John had told Sherlock that they could at least go for a walk, do something to help time pass. To his surprise, the third time he asked (around four in the afternoon) Sherlock had jumped out of the sofa, disappeared, come back in one of his suits and said ”Let's go”. It soon turns out why he was so eager; instead of going for a walk, they're going to Scotland Yard. Sherlock had decided that if Lestrade won't answer his texts (He did answer them, John replies, but he doesn't need your help right now), Sherlock might just as well get over there and bug him in person.
They have to blame Donovan for how unprepared they were since it was she who'd distracted them by saying ”freak is here” to which Sherlock of course had to reply with asking if she always slept on the left side of her bed or if it was only on the nights when Anderson was there. As they enter Lestrade's room he is just about to explain it to John.
”Of course I know that she always sleeps--” Then he stops mid-sentence and John gives him a surprised look before turning his head away from Sherlock's face to...
To Lestrade covered in kittens. John blinks. Sherlock blinks. Lestrade is busy getting one of the kittens, a gray one, off his head. Then he looks up, and blinks. John clears his throat.
”Are we... uhm... wha...”
”Where did all these cats come from?” Sherlock finally asks, saying cats as if he ment vermin. There's kittens everywhere; one of them, a white one, is playing with his pens, two are playing with each other, an orange one is asleep, one seems to be in Lestrades lap, trying to climb up, one just emerges from his back and snuggles against Lestrade's left ear, a speckled kitten is laying on the side playing with a piece of paper, a black one is about to fall off the edge of the table but Lestrade saves it with his right hand, the left is still putting the gray one down.
”Kittens, Sherlock. From a case of an old woman dying, as old women do, in her home. She... liked cats.”
”And uhm,” John steps in,”how did all the cats end up here?”
”The RSPCA can't take them tonight, something about a fire at the closest shelter. No animals were hurt,” he hastily adds, ”but they can't accept more at the moment. And I thought that overnight they can't be too bad.” The black one is once again about to jump down from the table, but John picks it up.
”Hey there little... boy,” he states. ”Aren't you cute?” Sherlock looks at him as if he just turned into a pile of manure, but Lestrade gives him a smile. The other white cat, the one that snuggled with his ear, is now falling asleep on Lestrade's shoulder.
”They're actually kind of cute, aren't they?” He tickles the speckled kitten. John holds the black one up to Sherlock who wrinkles his nose and backs away.
”How can you not like kittens, Sherlock?” John asks as he holds the black one in his arms again.
”They're... animals. And they're boring.” Lestrade looks at him.
”Boring? You never know what they're about to do next.” As to prove his point, his pencil stand falls down the table with a loud bang and all his pens go flying. All the kittens are startled (except for the orange one) and the two guilty ones are standing on the edge of the table, looking at the chaos beneath them.
”Sir, your cat carriers,” Donovan enters the room. She makes certain not to get too close to Sherlock.
”Put them by the table,” Lestrade says as he's trying to capture the two kittens and stop them from going after the pens rolling on the floor. Once Donovan's put the carry boxes down and is leaving the room she looks at John as she's trying to suppress a laugh. John tries really hard not to grin and give them away. Sherlock gives him a dubious look as if John is just about to burst out laughing at a funeral. Sherlock isn't finding this funny at all, quite the opposite it's extremely dull and there is no case. John is still holding the black kitten but it doesn't seem to want to be petted any more, so he puts him down on the table again.
”Well, I guess we should leave you to it, then.”
”Finally,” Sherlock breathes. John nearly rolls his eyes. Sherlock was bored the whole day and if he wanted to leave he could've just done so. John knows he's stayed because there isn't anything else to do, but still.
”Go and find some cold case to play with, Sherlock,” Lestrade says as he's now trying to stop the white kitten to crawl from his shoulder to his head, using his ear as support. The one on his lap is busy playing with his shirt. Sherlock sighs dramatically as he leaves.
”Yeah, well.. good luck with the cats,” John says as he's heading after Sherlock. Lestrade just nods as he's trying to get the kittens into the carriers.
Lestrade really loves cats, has always done. Due to his work he could never have one though, so he let's the kittens play in his bed as he lay there and reads. As he then puts them into the home-made playpen at the corner of the bedroom (he's bought some cat food, put a few blankets there for them to play and snuggle in and made a litter box out of what he could find) he can't help but to hug each and everyone of the little buggers. Turning off the lights and getting in bed, he smiles as he hears them meowing before they too fall asleep.