#neko!verse

 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, "That’s none of your business. At all." Sherlock’s 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 couldn’t 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.

Lestrade’s eyes widened a bit, as if he didn't remember John from the flat. Perhaps he didn't. "You’re 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. Mycroft’s 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."

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 didn’t- 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. That’s 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.

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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. "What’d ‘ya think u'll happen'  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 doesn’t have anyone to claim him." He sounded as if didn't really care.

Cop One seemed thoughtful, "What’d ‘ya 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 he’d 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 you’re done." He sounded almost happy.