Tony had staff give the new cubbies a good vacuuming after he got the heat-lamp wiring installed and artfully covered. Not only could his neko be bathed by warm light from above, but plush and fuzzy covering could be heated underneath by a nest-like waterbed mattress.
âDummy! Your new heating-cubbies are ready for you to try out!â Tony called from the common livingroom with retrained excitement.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
This is not a slave! Verse, I almost wish it was, but itâs not. But it is an AU. Nekoâs are semi-catlike people that have to deal with second-class citizenship. While Johnâs youâre average ex-military doctor with a psychosomatic limp Sherlockâs a stray lacking a litigate purpose. They have problems; so of course, an evil-genius Neko-extremist is welcome join.
Johnlock. Though there may not be any smut (I donât really know yet - maybe) there will probably be some darn close calls with plenty of ear-pulling.
Warnings: May have mention of drug use, though none of it actually happening in the story. May be smut, though Iâll warn you if that happens. May not be updated fast. Be warned.
A/N I AM SO SORRY. Anyway, it's not up on FF.net yet. It's everything I can do to edit it. I will get better, Reader. I will. For now, no murder and no Johnlock yet. I might take a break until I have everything laied oout and I can get better Chapters out. I'm going away back home for a whiles anyway, where I WILL WRITE BETTER. Answer if m breaks okay? ->Warning under still stands! <-
 I might not update at all if no one gives it notes.
^
Curlyâs Shadow, Chapter 5
I do not own BBCâs Sherlock. Carry on, my one dearest reader.
 Sherlock completely ignored the yellow barrier and lifted it above his head, turning to let John do the same, but John stopped short, as a man and a woman stopped them both. The woman had curly hair and darker skin while he man was skinny and had almost rat-like eyes.
"Oi, Curly!" The woman said, taking the last long steps to get to them man in toe, "No more tampering with our crime scenes, remember? Thought your owner would of taught you a lesson."
Sherlock's tail puffed out a bit, though John was sure no one else noticed, "Donavan, please get out of our way. We do have a killer to catch unlike some people." He motioned John though; he didn't go, instead looking at the woman.
She continued on like she hadn't hear him, "Did the freak fallow you home? He had an owner out there somewhere, supposedly keeping an eye on him."
The man cut in, "Though we could get him caged for you, if he's making you do this."
The woman took over again, "Yeah who are you anyway?" She finished with a questioning glance.
John opened his mouth to reply but before he could reply Sherlock did it for him, "Thatâs none of your business. At all." Sherlockâs ears where back flat agents his head and it was the first time John had noticed slightly longer canines.
Donavan opened her mouth to shoot back a comment but not a second to soon Lestrade choose to appear, clearing his thought, "Anderson, go get stated. Sherlock's been cleared by me." Anderson stiffened and turned toward the building, grumbling about something John couldnât make out. "But seriously, who is this?" Lestrade nodded toward John.
Sherlock seemed to calm down a bit, "John, this is Lestrade, Lestrade this is John Watson." He answered willingly.
Lestradeâs eyes widened a bit, as if he didn't remember John from the flat. Perhaps he didn't. "Youâre the man who claimed Sherlock at the Surgery?"
John gave his best likeable smile and nodded, "Yeah, I hadn't realized he'd been-"
Lestrade put a hand up, silencing John, "No, don't lie to me. Mycroftâs tied to give me the papers to many times. If was a good thing you did, Watson, but you really don't have to be here. I can look out for this git." John studied him for a moment and decided he liked him, though not his proposition.
And it seemed Sherlock was on the same page, "Yes, Lestrade, thank you for bringing my brother into every possible conversation I am cursed to hold with you, but I would not have invited John if I did not see fit." He gave one more, curt nod and started off the way Anderson had stalked off, before Lestrade said one last thing.
"You could have just asked for his metical records, you know."
Sherlock sighed, "They would have been a watered down version. I needed them all." At this he walked away, John shooting one last smile at Lestrade before fallowing the Neko.
This is not a slave! Verse, I almost wish it was, but itâs not. But it is an AU. Nekoâs are semi-catlike people that have to deal with second-class citizenship. While Johnâs youâre average ex-military doctor with a psychosomatic limp Sherlockâs a stray lacking a litigate purpose. They have problems; so of course, an evil-genius Neko-extremist is welcome join.
Johnlock. Though there may not be any smut (I don't really know yet - maybe) there will probably be some darn close calls with plenty of ear-pulling.
Warnings: May have mention of drug use, though none of it actully happening in the story. May be smut, though I'll warn you if that happens. May not be updated fast. Be warned.
And I might not update at all if no one gives it likes.
^
Curly's shadow ~ Chapter one
John had finished anther long day at the surgery. The days seemed to be growing as the week wore on-and it was only Wednesday. It had been a bad day; people came in seemingly just to waste his time. He had prescribed one man sugar pills strictly because he insisted something was wrong with him and wouldn't leave until proven right.
In early times they had been used as slaves, but that hadn't lasted to long. They had no rights, really, and often roamed the streets but there were a few laws, If a Neko didn't have a color, he was locked up, if someone complained, they were locked up, if they so much as knocked over a trash can that someone didn't want them in, they were, well, locked up.
Sometimes, if there was to many strays, they would be rounded up and put in kennels-and, truth be told, that was exactly where London was headed. He, if he had his pay check, would have dropped a twenty but he didnât- well not until tomorrow, and right now he was broke. He continued walking, like everyone else around him did.
When he reached his flat he gave the landlords Neko a friendly pat on the back as he limped up the stairs. Why had he walked home again? He flopped on the bed, looking toward his laptop, sitting idle on the desk. He sighed; he should write, blog about his day. Thatâs what the therapist said at least, but really, blog about the man with the transparent illness? No.
So, he left it alone and decided to skip the last meal of the day to call it in early. Sleep found him easily.
The next morning he woke at 5 almost exactly, barley holding back a scream form his beforehand nightmare. He nearly didn't succeed. The walls where paper thin and his neighbors had complained several times. He lay there, trying so hard to forget the dream that he knew would brittle him the whole day.
Twenty minutes later he got up, got dressed, had some toast and made his way out of his flat. It was cold, cold enough that he probably shouldn't walk, but he did anyway. When he got the surgery he was surprise to see cops outside, sirens flashing. He sped up inside and listen to the whispers on his way to his office. There had been a break in, trying to steal some files but a nurse had caught them, calling the police. John walked into his office, looking around. He'd probably get the day off and the announcement would be any time now.
Two cops walked by his door, talking none-too quietly. "Whatâd âya think u'll happen' Â to the Neko?" Cop One said to Cop Two.
Cop two responded with a shrug, "I don't know," His speaking was much more proper, "Probably put down if he doesnât have anyone to claim him." He sounded as if didn't really care.
Cop One seemed thoughtful, "Whatâd âya think he was thinkin', tryin' to steal files?" Cop One questioned.
Cop Two almost sounded amused, "Said something about saving someone. A Neko!" They walked pat and John's mind went over the conversation again. A Neko had tried to steel files? Why?
The announcement came off and he hobbled himself outside. He was on the lookout for the Neko at the center of this, so it was unsurprising when he saw him, standing in front a police car, arms cuffed tightly -probably too tight, John thought with a wince- and a chain leading up to his black color. He had a brownish-crimson shirt on and a knee length coat, the color up. He had dark brown hair with black ears peeking and a tail swishing, irritated behind him.
He was talking to the cop, his hands trying to move as he talked. He seemed pretty at the end of his rope, his head down and ears and tail twitching. His silver/blue/gray eyes conveying almost a plea.
Of course the cop was closed minded. John wandered within ear shot, if he strained. "What were you thinking? You'll be killed for something like this." The cop didn't sound like he cared
The Neko sounded as if heâd gone over this before, "I want to talk to Lestrade." Even if he was battered and down his voice sounded like a command.
"Sorry," The officer looked anything but, "He's not vouching for you this time. His little team talked him out of it. Guess youâre done." He sounded almost happy.
The tall mans, John could now see he had to be almost six feet tall, ear twitched back and his eyes filled with something like disbelief, though it was gone in a second and John wondered if heâd imagined it. His tail drooped and head lowered. The cop tightened his fingers around the chain leading from his color and started to lead him to the door of the car.