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John climbed the stairs after a long day at work. Sherlock would be watching Rosie, unless there was a case, in which case she’d be with Mrs. Hudson. But as there had been no calls, John was fairly certain the evening would be quiet.
Until he heard a faint mew.
Frowning, John pushed open the door, only to be greeted by the sight of Rosie sitting with a box of kittens, momma cat dozing with her head on Rosie’s leg, and half a dozen kittens wandering around the apartment floor or climbing over Sherlock, lying on the sofa.
John took a breath, then another one.
Rosie looked up and grinned at him. “Hi Daddy!”
“Hi sweetheart.” John grabbed a kitten before it could escape and closed the door. The kittens all seemed to be black or white or some combination of the two. “Where did these fellows come from?” He carefully set the kitten back in the box and moved to the sofa, a bit too tired to deal with this. Sherlock drew up his feet so he could sit.
“They were living by Mrs. Hudson’s bins, but it’s been cold and rainy so she said I could bring them in.”
John scrubbed his face in his hands. Rosie got up and carefully brought him the mug of tea she’d prepared for him. “Sweetheart you know we can’t keep all these cats, right?”
Rosie nodded. “Sherlock made some calls. They’re too young right now but Mister Lestrade said he would take one, and so did Mrs. Hudson and Miss Hooper. Mister Lestrade said he might know a couple other people and he’s going to check.”
“Right,” said John, taking a sip and trying not to make a face at how sweet she always made his tea.
“I told her we can keep the mother cat and one of the kittens.” Sherlock finally opened his eyes and joined the conversation.
“Did you, now?” John absently pet a kitten that wandered into his lap.
“They’re almost old enough. They said another week or two.”
“They?” John raised an eyebrow.
“I know a veterinarian. I asked her to stop by and check on them.”
John rolled his eyes. “Of course you know a vet. Get them off a murder charge too?”
“No, but she is sometimes useful to have for cases.”
“Right.” John shook his head and sipped his tea again.
Sherlock drew his feet even farther back as Rosie clambered onto the sofa. “So we can keep them?”
“We’ll see,” said John, knowing he’d already lost the battle.
**
At least John had to admit the kittens were good for keeping the worst of Sherlock’s experiments at bay. He was generally cautious these days with Rosie around, but several of the kittens seemed determined to climb on the table. John partially hoped Rosie would pick one of them to keep.
But she seemed to get attached to a little gray one. John caught her curled up on the sofa with the kitten in her arms, both of them dozing. Rosie decided her name was Miss Brimble, after her favorite teacher so far. John overheard Sherlock calling it Bumble-Bee.
He also had to admit that coming home to a small pile of adorable kittens was nowhere near the worst thing he’d ever come home to in the flat.
Finally, the veterinarian came by, checked them all out thoroughly, and declared them old enough to find new homes. Greg came by with Molly and couple of other folks from the yard and they took most of the kittens, though Rosie kept Miss Brimble in her pocket.
Mrs. Hudson came upstairs with a friend to collect the last few kittens. “You know I could take Mama Cat as well,” she said. “She can still come upstairs to visit.”
“Okay,” said Rosie. “I don’t want Miss Brimble to get lonely.”
“I don’t think she will with you around.” Mrs. Hudson kissed the top of her head, pet Miss Brimble and took the rest of the cats, leaving the flat remarkably quiet.
“Well, you did good, Rosie, giving them away.” John sat down with his daughter.
“I know they’re going to good places. And I have Miss Brimble still.”
“Yes, you do. And it’s your job to take good care of her.”
“I will,” promised Rosie.
**
The next day, John was off when Greg showed up with a case. Sherlock looked at him “You took the white kitten, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, well, flat gets kinda quiet sometimes. Though he does shed a bit.” He wiped cat hair off his trousers. “Anyway, murder, Sherlock?”
“Delightful.” He got up to pull on his coat.
“I’ll just let Mrs. Hudson know to get Rosie from school.” John headed downstairs.
**
A few days after that, it was Mycroft that visited the flat. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him. He didn’t notice Rosie copying his look from a few steps away. “You don’t like cats.”
Mycroft sighed and twisted his umbrella. “Yes, well, you’ve got one now, haven’t you? No, it’s not going to keep me away.”
“Miss Brimble is gray. The fur on your trousers isn’t.”
John looked between them. Rosie crept closer to look.
“What exactly are you implying, brother mine?”
“You’ve been spending time with Lestrade.”
Mycroft rolled his eyes. “I thought you were past making up stories, Sherlock. Now, what I came here for…”
Sherlock darted forward and plucked hairs off Mycroft’s trousers. “White. There was one pure white kitten.”
“Really, Sherlock, I could have been around any number of people that might have a white cat.”
“But you weren’t.” Something glittered in Sherlock’s eyes, a delight in catching his big brother out.
Mycroft shifted his umbrella. “Sherlock…”
Just then Greg walked through the door as well, casefile in his hands. “Hey the door was open so I…” He stopped and looked at Mycroft.
Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him.
Sherlock walked over, plucked fur off Greg’s trousers and headed for his microscope.
Rosie broke into a grin. “Uncle Mycroft is Mister Lestrade’s boyfriend, Daddy.”
John had never seen Mycroft look flustered or blush before. Greg laughed. “Well,” he said, stepping closer to Mycroft. “I guess the cat is out of the bag.”
“That was a terrible pun,” muttered Mycroft.
Greg leaned closer to Mycroft. Sherlock materialized next to them. “If you two are dating that’s wonderful, but no kissing in the flat.”
“But you kiss Daddy,” said Rosie.
Greg laughed and took Mycroft’s hand. “Come on, you and I can come back later, after Sherlock has a chance to recover.”
Mycroft grumbled, but let himself be led out.
John shook his head. “How did you know me and Sherlock have been kissing?”
Rosie gave him her ‘I’m not stupid’ look. “You aren’t that quiet.”
Sherlock blushed almost as hard as Mycroft had. John cleared his throat. “Ah, well, that’s uh, that’s a discussion for another time.”
Rosie shook her head, bent down and scooped up the cat as it ran by. “Come on Miss Brimble, let’s see if Mrs. Hudson has cookies. Daddy and Sherlock need to talk.”
John watched her walk away then sank down on the sofa, not sure if he should laugh or reprimand her for eavesdropping.
“Well, she certainly has your intelligence,” said Sherlock, flopping down next to him.
“And your tendency to stick her nose in places she shouldn’t.” John sighed, then leaned over and kissed Sherlock gently. “Suppose we should make it official, then.”
“Mummy will be pleased,” Sherlock muttered, then leaned into John. “I am still not apologizing for the kittens.”
“No, it’s made Rosie happy. Come on, let’s go see about those cookies.” He took Sherlock’s hand, gave him one more kiss, and led him down the stairs, surprised at just how much mischief a box of kittens could cause.