Sherlock Holmes Cat Novels & Stories

Celeste, still dressed in her elegant gown, was preparing coffee in the small kitchen while Peter waited in the cozy living room. Spike, her old and wise cat, noticed the presence of a stranger in their home. Emerging from the bedroom, the feline approached Peter with a watchful gaze. With slow, deliberate movements, Spike jumped onto the couch and studied the man intently.

I asked, my brows furrowing in bewilderment. The old man shuffled closer, his apologetic tone barely audible over the pounding of my heart. "I-I'm sorry to startle you, dear. I was just looking for my cat," he explained, his voice wavering with uncertainty. A cat? I couldn't recall ever seeing one in his vicinity. "A cat?" I echoed, exchanging a puzzled glance with Lucas. "We didn't know you had a cat, Mr. Watson. And we've never seen one around here before," I added, my tone tinged with suspicion.

He rubbed her hair lovingly and said, “Like I said, the cat helped.” Maia was puzzled. The cat? “Are you talking about the cat that appeared out of nowhere? The one I petted?” Maia asked. He nodded, “Correct.” Then, she asked, “Cats can’t talk. How did you find me with its help?” “The cat could be the murderer’s pet, after all.” Maia nodded, agreeing with him. “It’s possible. There’s a collar on its neck. It’s also a pedigree cat, so it must have an owner. Still, how are you so sure that it belonged to the culprit?”

That person is not the mafia hacker beside her though. “ Nobody is here close by Cassie. I have checked.” He said looking at the surrounding and checking if someone came. “You are right, darling. No human is around.” She said and smiled at him softly. A soft smile that tells she knows more than him. He never once in his life saw her smile like this. Purely. And what she said? No humans? So the cat? “ you think the cat-” “The cat is a spy. Look here on the collar belt,

A short hiss was her cat, Asshole’s, only greeting as he ran off, no doubt to find Vergel. “Traitor,” she grumbled without heat as she finished her descent. For reasons none of the guys had a definitive answer to, cats almost universally hated High Alchemist. Being that Pearl was, apparently, High Alchemist explained why her pet had never come to like her in their four years together. Despite rescuing him from starvation as a kitten and treating him like a tiny, spiteful king, he was more inclined to flay her hand open with his murder mittens than allow her to pet him.

"He's around here someplace. There should be some Friskies over there someplace." I found the cat food next to a small refrigerator and a can opener as well. The cat, a gray Siamese with yellow eyes, came running at the sound. He seemed friendly enough anyway, rubbing himself around my legs in a figure eight and purring softly. I'd never owned a cat. "He likes you," Shelly said from the balcony-bedroom, and I looked up to see her standing naked and smiling down at me.

But that's okay, as long as I can hug Serena. I watched Serena dominate my penthouse, making a mess of it with her things scattered everywhere. I could feel the presence of Dickypuss, the fierce black cat. He becomes irritated when his food is not ready on time. I happily fed him, mindlessly looking after the cat, while Serena spent time with her friends.

The dumb feline darts at me, scratching me across the face and I snarl, the sting burning me and I grab her around the muzzle. I feel something breaking as she claws my hand before I throw her across the room. She hits the corner of the chest of drawers hard, and I’m satisfied when I hear something break. She lets out a pitiful meow before her tiny body tumbles to the floor. Better. Stupid cat. What kind of werewolf keeps a cat, anyway? I glance down at her neck. This one was a little different… but he said it would accomplish what I was failing at… The little pinprick on her neck is already healing…

She may be Alejandro’s daughter, but I was also a Rossi. “This pack is used to hell, kid, so do your fucking worst.” I replied mockingly. She’s about to reply when the cat drew our attention away, meowing loudly and she holds it right up in my fucking face. “Oh and this is Malevolent. Say hi.” I cocked a brow. “I don’t talk to animals,” I said arrogantly. Her smirk vanished, her eyes flashing a deep plum red, and I frowned, my own eyes blazing as I observed her sharply.

He didn’t know why he watched her and why he was hiding like an idiot. “Why did I always hide and listen secretly? Tsk.” Vincent walked to the bench and looked at the cat in the box. He saw the cat and his heart softened. “You look like someone I know,” Vincent said. Like Agatha, it has big, round eyes. The cat’s fur is white and black, like Agath’s pale skin and black long hair. Vincent suddenly felt so weird to see Agatha through the cat. Vincent took a deep breath. As he lowered his gaze, he saw the notes in the box. He remembered that Agatha scribbled something on it using her pen.