John's clothes were drenched. Absolutely soaked. He was pretty sure that the rain had started to seep into his skin. John found himself rather sad that one of his favourite jumpers had seen subjected to this brutal weather, despite the fact he was also wearing a coat. (Yeah, it was raining that much. Bloody English weather. John often compared it to his flatmate, as both were unpredictable 9 times out of 10 and neither stayed in the same state for extended periods of time yet everyone was interested in what they'd be like the next day.)
He shoved his hands into his pockets in hopes that he could gain some warmth. The moment he got home he planned to get into a steaming hot bath and stay there until he was wrinkled. John just hoped Sherlock wasn't in a miserable mood or had created a mess with some experiment.
He really didn't feel up to arguing or cleaning up tonight. Bath then bed. That was the plan.
John was fumbling with his keys when he heard a mewling sound and there was a pressure on his ankle. He pauses and looks down to see a small kitten looking up at him with large green-blue eyes. For a moment, John was struck by how human the kitten's eyes seemed.
The kitten meowed and pawed at his trouser leg, eyes still on his face. John then becomes aware of how drenched the kitten was. The poor thing was shivering almost violently.
John bends down and picks the kitten up, holding it close in an attempt to give it's shivering body some warmth. He quickly enters Baker Street and rushes up the stairs.
He calls out to Sherlock and wasn't surprised to gain no reply. He'd probably got a call from Lestrade or maybe Molly and had gone to do God knows what to a fresh corpse.
John carries the kitten into the bathroom and turns on the shower. He feels the water and makes sure it was the temperature a young child would find just right. It was far colder than how John would shower but it was still warm.
While he was fixing the shower the kitten had been sitting on the floor, watching. Without John picking the kitten up, the black ball of fur steps under the spray.
John smiles and kneels on the floor. He strips his coat and leaves it on the floor, smiling wider at the kitten. So much for cats not liking water.
John strips so he was topless and frowns at the kitten, whose eyes were on John.
"Hey" John scolds playfully "Don't watch me, just get warm.. and I must be mental because I'm talking to you"
John chuckles at himself and the kitten turns away, stretching in the water and closing it's eyes to let the water run over it's face. John almost wonders if the kitten had listened to him or if it had just suddenly wanted more heat.
John cocks his head to the side and nods. The cat was a boy. Now he could stops calling the kitten an it.
"You're a boy" John says, still talking to the kitten.
The kitten's head whips round to glare at John. John frowns, a little creeped out by the way this kitten seemed to understand everything. Maybe he was just a really smart kitty. A Sherlock kitten.
John giggles at his own thoughts as he watches the kitten go back to moving around in the water. The kitten's fur was somewhere between midnight black and a dark chocolate colour. Similar to Sherlock's dark curls.
John frowns and then shakes his head, laughing a little again.
John starts to shimmy out of his jeans, which were clinging to him thanks to the rain water. When John glances over, the kitten was watching him again.
"You" He said, pointing at the kitten "are a perverted little kitty"
John laughs again before walking over to the bath and running it. While it fills, John grabs a towel and kneels beside the shower. He holds the towel out and the kitten climbs out and nuzzles into the towel. Definitely a smart kitty.
