Catlock: The Adventure of the Sudden Brother

I probably should have known something was up when Sherlock started putting towels into a box. No, I should have known when I heard him muttering about the landlady. Maybe I should have been alerted as soon as John asked him to smooth things over with Mrs. Hudson, but it wasn't until he started cutting holes in that box that my delicate inner sense of danger sensed his intentions.
I ran into John's room and ducked down under the bed and stayed there. I wanted to tell Sher-cat what his human was planning, but I was too scared to move. He had no way of knowing for sure, he'd never experienced abandonment like I had. I knew that if we were put in the box, we would be thrown out of the apartment. It was exactly what my old family did.
Fear clutched at my stomach as my thoughts raced around in semi-circles in my head. What if it wasn't both of us, what if it was only Sher-cat? What if he only wanted to get rid of me? Would John let him? Would he be too late to stop him?
I heard the creaking of his shoes in the hall and I stopped breathing. I felt like my eyes were bulging out of my head with fear.
"Here kitty-kitty." He cooed enticingly, but I could hear the cold edge in his voice that spoke of a hunting spirit. He was looking for me, and not for fun either.
"I have a nice fish for you." He said, suddenly sounding convincing. I rose to follow him, but forced myself to lie down and remain silent. I wasn't THAT dumb.
The next thing I knew I was staring at him face-to-face and his gray eyes lit up with triumph. The first place he had checked was under the bed.
"Here you are you little beast." He said reaching out for me with one wiry arm. I made to run to the other side, but he seized my hind leg in an iron grip and I tripped, falling onto the hard floor with a grunt. He dragged me out from under the bed by my leg and picked me up dolefully.
I began begging: "No Sherlock! I can change! Give me a chance! I don't want to go!" but he was oblivious to my pleas.
With the air of nonchalance he dropped me into the cardboard box and closed the flaps over my head, holding them down with the flat of his hand and cutting off any escape. It was dark in the box and I had to crouch because of how small it was, but beams of light poured in through the air-holes he had cut I peered through the holes and saw Sher-cat sitting at his window where he'd been moping all day.
Sher-cat sensed Sherlock coming for him and he turned and glared frostily at him with a defiant thrust of his chin.
"You don't actually believe you can get me in that box, do you?" he asked with a ripple of suppressed rage.
"Come here kitty."
"I think not." Sher-cat stood up and almost lazily turned to face Sherlock. "You're outmatched here Sherlock. It's technically still two against one."
"Come here you stupid cat."
"That's an insult and a lie."
They stared at each other for a moment, neither one moving. Then Sherlock made a grab for Sher-cat who jumped easily out of his way, leapt down unto the floor and ran through the apartment.
"I swear." Sherlock muttered between gritted teeth "Why cats? Why not fish? It's not illegal to eat your fish." He picked up the box I was in and I rolled around uncontrollably, slamming into the sides as he followed Sher-cat through the flat.
"Diabolical…" I heard Sher-cat mutter.
"What's wrong kitty?" Sherlock laughed. "Nowhere to hide? Not so smart now, are you?"
I couldn't stand up in the box without wobbling uncontrollably. It felt like Sherlock might just drop me. I decided to be brave and I kicked the box with all of my might, and it worked! He dropped me, but the box landed upside down and I still couldn't get out.
Sherlock left me there and went to catch Sher-cat. The only thing I ended up doing was freeing up his other hand. The towel was over my head and I couldn't see a thing, and there wasn't enough room in the box to maneuver my way out of the towel so I just sort of stood there trying to pull the thing off of me.
I heard Sher-cat complaining and footsteps and thought my fate was sealed. There was a flood of light that surged from everywhere tinted pink. I realized that the box was off and I quickly fought to unwrap myself from the towel, but in a flash Sherlock had seized my tummy and chucked me into the open box.
When I had pulled the cloth off of my eyes I was just in time to see the last cracks of light fade into nothingness. With a desperate scream I threw myself at the lid and for a brief second the light returned, but Sherlock slammed his hand against the lid and it was gone in an instant.
"Calm down." Sher-cat said angrily. "You're over reacting." But I responded with an unintelligible growl. I was beyond the point of panic and starting to wander into hyper-panic. Dozens of scenarios flashed through my mind and in my fear they all sounded plausible; Sherlock mailing us to a scientific institute because he realized we are smarter than average humans, Sherlock driving to some strange part of town and leaving us there so he could have more of the flat to himself, Mrs. Hudson adopting a no-pet policy and making us leave.
All I could think about was those two human juveniles from the Case of the Burnt Burglar who killed cats for fun and how horrible they seemed compared to sweet John. All I could think about was the burning claw of hunger that had torn away at me for months as I wandered the lonely unforgiving streets, wet and dirty and starving. All I could think about was the street cats, who saw your hunger and desperation and mirrored it in their own eyes and hated you for showing it to them and who would tear at you and make you run when all you wanted was a kind word.
In my mind I was reacting just right. He was UNDER reacting.
I raced around the box with my head ducked down low so that it wouldn't scrape the ceiling calling Sherlock terrible names while also pleading with him hopelessly. I heard the sound of duct tape being pulled off of a roll and I lay down on the brink of crying.
"He's sealing us in." Sher-cat said.
I moaned and lay down. It was out of my hands, there was nothing I could do. I felt like crying.
"Are you crying?" Sher-cat said incredulously.
"Not yet."
He sighed from the other corner of the box. "Trust me when I say this: It's probably not what it seems. I know what you're thinking. Don't worry, if he wanted us gone he would probably just shoot us."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I asked.
"No. It's supposed to make you think logically; an arduous and nearly impossible task that I, for some reason, have undertaken." He said haughtily.
"Listen closely and see if you can follow my reasoning. How many ways are there to get rid of a cat?"
"I don't know… hundreds, thousands." I said thoughtfully.
"Good. Do you know what the penalty for animal cruelty is in this country?"
"No."
"It's a large fine. He'll only have to pay money."
"That's not fair!"
"Be quiet and listen. He doesn't seem to like hassles so if he was going to get rid of us he would probably either kill us, and hid the evidence or just leave us right outside. Sound right?"
"Well yes…but…"
Sher-cat might have gone on, (It looked like he had multiple scenarios worked out too) but at that moment Sherlock picked up the box and sent Sher-cat tumbling into me.
"Oof!" He grunted elbowing me hard in the ribs and knocking the wind out of me. "It's a good thing you're so fluffy. Otherwise that might have hurt!"
My head was reeling from where he'd kicked it and I had no patience for him at the moment "Get off!" I cried.
The floor of the box shifted and trembled as he carried us outside. I heard the cars and I felt the heat from within the box and my mouth went dry.
"I think he's really going to get rid of us." I said trembling. "And there isn't anything John or anybody can do about it."
"If he drops us anywhere in the city I can lead us home, but I'm telling you he's not getting rid of us."
"What if he's having us put down?" I whined.
"Now you're being irrational!" Sher-cat spat at me as he slid to one corner of the box which was apparently tilted at an angle.
It was a long bumpy trip in the dark stifling box. Sher-cat tried to talk to me once or twice, but I was too freaked out to handle any sort of chatting. I must have said something mean because he lapsed into silence as well.
Finally we were put down somewhere and I prepared to be thrown into some street, or, knowing Sherlock off some bridge but nothing came.
And then we heard the ringing of a door bell and footsteps running away. We were on someone's door stoop. I glanced at Sher-cat who blankly stared at me, reading my reaction.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"No clue." He said. For a moment I believed him, until the door opened. The scent of another cat billowed out with a gust of air conditioning and Sher-cat's face rearranged into the darkest expression I'd seen in a while.
We heard a woman's voice as we were picked up again and shaken slightly. The musical chime of a phone signaled our decent to the ground once more. I was beginning to feel queasy from being moved so much. With an enormous jolt that sent us sliding into each other we were picked up again and brought into the cold house.
A new fear had gripped my throat and made it impossible to ask Sher-cat the urgent question of where we were and why. He himself was silent and his expression was distant and cold.
I listened closely, trying to catch any hint of who was around or what had become of us.
"Package from your brother, sir." A woman said clearly as we landed roughly on some table or something.
"Toss it out the window."  A deep voice said in a careless drawl as a chill of terror took over me. The box was picked up again and I almost fainted as my heartbeat sped up into one long drumroll.
"Wait, wait." He said. "You'd actually do it, wouldn't you?"
"Sir?"
"Give it to me; he doesn't just SEND things you know. There must be some reason for it."
The box was passed from one pair of hands to another and I breathed a sigh of relief. We were safe, for now.
"Get away from the center of the box." Sher-cat whispered.
"Why?" I asked.
"He has to cut the box open…" Before he could finish warning me a long, gleaming silver blade suddenly dropped through the ceiling and began to saw back and forth, straight towards where my legs were resting.
With a moan I jumped out of the way of the knife as it tore the ceiling in half. I curled into a ball, hoping that this fiasco would just abruptly end when I made myself as small as possible, but the knife made a few more passes on either side before the box could be opened.
When fingers slipped under the cardboard I couldn't take being enclosed any longer. I jumped into the fissures of light and into the unknown environment.
"What in the..?" the human exclaimed as I bolted past him and catapulted myself onto the ground.
The first thing I saw was a table and I ducked down beneath it before trying to analyze the human or the environment. Once I was safe hiding under something I peeked out to check on the human.
He was tall. Really tall and he seemed ever taller from where I was pressed against the floor. He gazed down at me with steely set eyes and I had the distinct sensation of being glared at by someone important. He wore a perpetual expression of superiority, even when looking surprised. His face was round with cherub cheeks and he might have looked nice when he smiled. But he wasn't smiling.
"A cat?" he threw open the flaps on the cardboard box and Sher-cat calmly jumped out.
"Cats? What?"
I crawled out from beneath the table and stared at the man, waiting for an explanation.
He reached into the box, where I thought there was only a towel and pulled out a note that I hadn't noticed while I had been freaking out.
"Dearest Brother, [he read]
Going to be gone for a few days. Take care of our cats the black one only needs some food and a place to rest, the fluffy one will need a soft bed lots of food and attention and this antibacterial cream rubbed on its injured ear at night.
-SH
There was a tube taped to the floor of the box that I also hadn't noticed and the man picked it up and stared at it incredulously. He glanced down at me and I smiled embarrassed.
"Sorry…about this." I said as nicely as I could while he crumbled the paper angrily. I thought he might kick us out, but he nicely patted me on the head before storming out the front door.
"See, I told you there was nothing to worry about." Sher-cat said arrogantly.
"What? Who was that guy? Where are we? There's plenty to worry about!" I shouted.
"We're at my brother's house. That was my brother's human."
My jaw dropped. "You have a brother?"
"I wasn't born to a litter of one you know." He said sarcastically rolling his eyes.
"Why didn't you mention him to me sooner?"
"You didn't ask." He replied.
"Actually it's because he doesn't like Me." a gentle voice floated down from above me somewhere and I turned around to take my first real glimpse of the room we were in. It was a white room with tints of beige and flesh tones that gave it the air of being really fancy. The room was mostly dominated by an enormous fuzzy-looking castle-thing that stretched up to the ceiling and from the top tower I saw a brown head gazing down at us.
Sher-cat made a smacking sound with his lips that denoted his obvious displeasure. "Hello My'."
The cat answered him in the same curt, short tone. "Hello Sher'."
I could have cut the tension with my claw, and the animosity made me really uncomfortable. For several second they sat in terse silence.
"Well." The brown cat said.
"Well." Sher-cat snapped.
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" he said, his head halfcocked at me.
"Why?" Sher-cat said "You already know him."
I jumped in surprise. How did he already know me? We'd never met. Had we?
"Manners." His brother said smugly "Are clearly a subtle art lost on you."
Sher-cat stalked away to find a window somewhere leaving me alone with his brother. To say the least I was fighting the sensation of wanting to run away and hide, but at least our humans didn't abandon us. That was a relief.
"I apologize for my brother; he can be a little bit standoffish. (I think that's what he said. It was a big word like that) It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance Dr. Watsoncat."  He said leaning farther over the platform above me, as if readying himself to jump on my head.
"The pleasure is mine…Hey, wait a moment! You DO know me!"  I cried.
"Guilty as charged. I had to look you up as soon as I heard you were living with Sherlock. How is he lately?"
"Is his name really Sherlock? Just like the human?" I asked.
"His name is Sherlock Jr. I believe John picked it out. How is he lately?" he repeated patiently.
"Fine." I said feeling a bit foolish. "Great!"
"Hmm. He won't talk to me about anything. I'll take your word on it." He leapt down and missed me by mere inches, but he seemed to have excellent control over his body, which when revealed to me looked rather unwieldy.
He was a big cat with stocky legs and long, thick, silky brown fur that dragged across the carpet. He gave me the sense that he had a lot of inertia hidden somewhere in his body, but all I immediately took notice of was the absent gaze in his eyes, just like when Sher-cat was focused on a hard problem, only the expression never went away.
"I'm sorry." I told him somewhat intimidated "I don't think I caught your name."
"My name is Mycat, Mycat Holmes." he said proudly.
He offered to show me around his house since I would be staying there and I followed him shyly. He gave me the impression that manners should be used at all times around him, but I don't know many manners so I was really scared.
He showed me the location of the two litter boxes and instructed me on which one to use (Which was good. It would have been embarrassing to use the wrong one!) He also told me about the scratching castle, that big carpet-thing I was telling you about in the first room. He said I could sharpen my claws and climb on it and at first I was overjoyed, but then he told me that cats weren't allowed in many of the rooms or on any of the furniture and it was less impressive. Basically The only places that we WERE allowed to sleep on were the cat beds (he had two) and the scratching post.  The whole house made me feel like I was in a really posh and sophisticated place that seemed too fancy for any but the most calm and well-bred cats, Like Mycat.
Sher-cat had found a large window high off the ground and he sat at the window focused intensely on the outside as we walked past him. I said hi and he grunted in reply. Mycat said he wasn't thrilled to see him and that they were somewhat frosty to each other. Knowing Sher-cat I can see why, but Mycat seemed nice enough. I guess it's just sibling rivalry. I used to have it with my sister, Hairy but I don't see her much anymore.
When we went to the kitchen Mycat showed me some of his amazing skills by leaping into an open pantry and scaling a few levels. I didn't think he could do it seeing how…bulky he was…
He knocked over a few cans and rolled them out for me. They said Classic Pate Seafood Platter in large yellow words.
"I hope you don't mind a sudden diversion, but I was wondering if you would like to indulge in a fast treat, seeing as you are a guest here."
I told him I wouldn't mind and he showed me how to open a pop can with my nails. The cans were filled with some kind of greasy, slimy, and lumpy something swimming in gravy.
Mycat threw away the lids of the can in a nearby open trashcan while I stared at the amorphous substance in front of me trying to discern what he might want me to do with it. It almost sounded like he wanted me to eat it, but I couldn't fathom how.
I waited for him to return and politely watched him for some clue as of what to do. To my surprise he bent over and started eating the substance straight from the can with a faint squelching sound. I felt ill.
I thought it would have been rude not to eat after I had been offered the food, but I was having trouble bringing myself to eat it at all. It was a flat lump of faintly pink substance. Beads of perspiration appeared when it was exposed to the open air and the yellow-brown gravy oozed over the surface slightly with chunks of indiscernible material floating over it. I say all of this, but I've omitted the one major deciding factor: It smelled divine.
I closed my eyes and just sort of dove into the can, letting my nose and stomach lead the way. I took a blind bite and found it to be cold and clammy and it had the consistency of mud, but as soon as it hit my tongue I forgot all about its appearance and I only knew bliss.
It had the wonderful, wonderful potency of fish and the gravy seemed to explode with flavor in my mouth. It had the lovely, tingling sensation that tantalized every inch of my tongue and I drooled uncontrollably as I lapped up every iota (little piece) of food with my inquisitive tongue that poked and investigated every part of the can's smooth round inside.
Too soon it was gone and I was lapping ceaselessly at an empty can.
"That was amazing!" I said turning to Mycat who had finished long before me and was busy cleaning his face. "Do you eat like that all the time?"
"No not all the time." He admitted as he licked the last smears of gravy from off his paw. "I'm on a bit of a diet lately."
"I see."
Mycat was staring at me again, and with his piercing eyes it felt like he was staring through me.
"So tell me about Sherlock…? Is he eating well?" he asked, practically pinning me to the wall with the extra emphasis on the word 'well'.
"He's fine." I said becoming uncomfortable again. "I make sure he eats every day, even when he doesn't want to."
"Good… you're a good friend." He said.
We sat in silence for a moment. I offered to throw both of our empty cans away and he let me. I had the distinct sensation that his eyes followed me while I was turned around.
"I was wondering if you might do me a little favor…" he said.
At that moment however Sher-cat chose to stroll into the kitchen and abruptly our conversation came to a halt.
"I smell canned food. How's the diet Mycat?" he said staring at his brother amusedly.
"Fine!" Mycat said his silky fur bristling slightly and indignantly.
"Don't go turning Watsoncat against me." he said smiling sardonically.
"Who do you think I am?" he said.
"Do you have any dry food?" Sher-cat asked. Mycat showed him where the dry food was and I was promptly forgotten about. That's okay though; it was a little bit uncomfortable getting caught in between them.
Right now I'm typing on the human's computer. Mycat told me not to, but I couldn't help it I needed to tell someone what was going on. Sher-cat and I are going to be here for a while, though we're not sure how long. Mycat and his human went to bed at the exact same time and the only time I can type seems to be when they're both asleep.
It was funny. I wanted to sleep and Mycat pointed me to a cat bed. I laid down and curled up and was comfortable when I suddenly felt a pinching in my ribs. I looked up and Mycat was biting me! I rolled over and he apologized.
"I'm so sorry." He said. "But that's my spot."
Then he lay down and curled himself up and went to sleep. The funny thing was he wasn't even over there when I wanted to sleep; he just came over to ensure I wasn't in his spot.
I asked Sher-cat and he said that Mycat was a cat of particular habits and that he didn't stray much from his habits and that he was a bit lazy. Apparently his cat bed was one of his habits.
Sher-cat and I are the only ones awake right now. I look over my shoulder and see his silhouette on one of the top platforms of the cat-castle and think he's so mysterious. I feel like there's so much I don't know about him. I think Mycat is the key to understanding more, but I don't quite feel right pumping him for info, especially since Sher-cat doesn't seem that close to him in the first place.
I also don't want to pry if Sher-cat doesn't want to tell me, but there are some things I can't learn by asking either. Some of these things I've learned already but I feel like I'm always going to be missing some pieces.
I hope John and Sherlock come back for us soon. Mycroft (the human in the house) isn't too happy about taking care of us. He isn't mad at us, but he definitely seems to be mad ABOUT us. Still, he put the medicine on my ear (which is healing nicely by the way) and he fed us so I don't mind. He seems like a busy important person. Also, he doesn't like to be brushed up against. I went to give him some affection for his troubles and he kicked me a bit. It didn't hurt, but I was surprised and a little disheartened.
"Your tail bristles up like a bottle-brush when you're alarmed, did you know that." Sher-cat's voice floats up from the darkness and I know he's watching the back of my head.
"No, I didn't."
"I wonder if I could use it to clean beakers?" he said absentmindedly.
I turn around and see the two glowing eyes reflecting the light from the computer screen floating in otherwise perfect darkness.
"You do not have my permission to use my tail." I remind him.
"Go to sleep. Now." Mycat's gruff voice snaps at us from his bed in the corner.
"Good night world." I type as I reach for the switch…