Chapter Text
After putting all of the new cat things in order, John was surprised at how settled Sherlock and Cass quickly became. After knowing each other for barely twelve hours, they moved in perfect sync. When Cass wasn’t busy pestering John, she’d be by Sherlock’s side as he worked on his (or John’s) laptop, or on his experiments. At first, he was worried that Sherlock would grow frustrated with her presence and soon decide that keeping her would be a bad idea.
He was quite all right with being wrong.
Sherlock didn’t mind her presence, and in fact seemed to enjoy it. She would either sit on the nearest flat surface, or laid out across his shoulders, watching him from her perch. He would merely scratch at her head or adjust his shoulders to make both of them as comfortable as possible. After a moment, he’d pause to murmur to her, accepting the feline as a new member of his audience. Of course, he’d still talk to John, but the doctor would find that Cass was usually present during the conversations. At first, he’d have to fight down the urge to laugh since Sherlock would be trying to have serious conversations with him as Cass butted her head against his chin, but after a while it was easy to get used to.
Of course, since there was a change at Baker Street, the elder Holmes had to make an appearance to approve of the new resident.
John was returning home from the store, since Sherlock didn’t buy groceries when he was on his cat supplies run, when he saw the sleek black car parked outside. He immediately fought the urge to groan, and mentally prepared himself for what he was about to face.
When he finally entered the flat, he was greeted by the sight of a perturbed Cass itching at a bright pink collar around her neck, a tiny bell jingling about with each scratch of her hind leg.
“Please tell me Sherlock didn’t give you that.” John said, worried that Sherlock had finally lost his mind.
“No, no. Your lovely landlady gave this gawdy thing to me.” Cass replied, shaking her shoulders and staring down at John. “I hope there’s tuna in there. I need it for what I’ve been putting up with these past fifteen minutes!”
“What happened?” John asked as he marched upstairs.
“Oh, Sherlock’s lovely brother’s here, and I can see why he hates him.” Cass stated. “I swear, John. If he references my street life one more time…!”
“Oh, Mycroft! Hello!” John said, cutting Cass off. “I saw your car outside.”
“Hello, Dr. Watson.” Mycroft greeted from his position in John’s armchair. “I was just having a conversation with Sherlock-.”
“He wants us to get rid of the cat, John.” Sherlock cut in, obviously displeased.
John felt himself freeze at that. He knew Mycroft probably wouldn’t approve of them taking in a stray at first, but he didn’t think that he wouldn’t at least try to warm up to the idea.
One of Mycroft’s well-groomed eyebrows twitched. “I never said that.”
“You were thinking it.”
Another twitch. “I was merely suggesting that, if you wanted a feline companion so badly, perhaps purchasing one from a reputable breeder would be more suited.”
“You see what I’ve been dealing with?” Cass hissed as she scratched at her collar again.
“See, Sherlock?” Mycroft said, motioning to the slightly distressed cat. “She hasn’t ceased her scratching since I’ve entered your flat. Obviously she’s suffering from some parasite.”
“She just doesn’t like the collar.” John put in, setting the bags aside and finally relieving Cass of her burden.
“Oh, sweet jesus! Thank you!” Cass breathed, shaking out again and prancing over towards Sherlock, jumping up and settling herself at the top of his chair.
“As for your suggestions, Mycroft,” John continued, picking up the bags again. “They’re appreciated, but we’re quite alright with our choice. There’s already an abundance of strays in London. Us taking in Cass makes the number lessen by one.”
“I can understand the point you’re making.” Mycroft said slowly. “And while your activism is inspiring, I really don’t think that-.”
“She’s mine, Mycroft.” John finally said, voice stern and evoking a tone that he hadn’t used since Afghanistan. “I don’t want some fancy purebred. I want Cass. Your brother has nothing to do with my decision.”
Sherlock and Cass both stared at him. Cass seemed pleased as punch, while Sherlock’s own lips seemed to twitch in amusement.
“Is that so?” Mycroft finally asked, his umbrella twirling in his hand.
“Yes.” John said, faltering only slightly. “Now, if that’s your only business here, then you may leave. I’m sure there are more pressing government matters you have to take care of. I highly doubt our new cat is more important than they are. If you really think they are, then I’m seriously concerned about our future in politics.”
Mycroft’s lips pursed as he seemed to mull this all over. Eventually, he let out a breath, resigned, as he then stood. “Very well.” He said. “My opinions obviously don’t matter. I shall take my leave. Good day, Dr. Watson. I’ll be seeing you another time, Sherlock.”
With that, he headed for the door, only to pause for a moment.
“Oh,” He said, lips pulled up in a cold smile. “I really suggest giving your little… friend there a bath.”
With that, he finally headed down the stairs and left through the front door.
“’Your cat’?” Sherlock finally asked. “If I do recall, I was the one who pressed the issue of letting Cass stay here.”
John shrugged, taking the groceries into the kitchen. “I figured if he thought it was more my decision, he’d be less pressed to try and get rid of her.” He stated. “Besides, it’s not like he lives here with her. He doesn’t know her like we do.”
Sherlock’s lips pulled into a grin as he scratched at Cass’s ear, causing her to purr.
“I… appreciate that, John.” He finally said slowly. “Although your speech on politics wasn’t needed, you did very well at getting rid of my brother.”
“Yeah,” Cass said, eyes twinkling and warm. “Thank you, John.”
John felt his face heat, and he ducked his head as he continued putting things away. It was the closest Sherlock had ever gotten to saying “thank you” to him. That, on top of Cass’s straight response, he felt almost embarrassed.
“That’s what friends are for.” John said eventually, causing Sherlock’s grin to broaden. “Now, who wants tea?”