Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. I am so glad you all like it. I know it has been a really long time since I updated, but I hope you guys are still with me here. Sorry it took sooo long.

Oh and by the way, the comment from CloudCuckooLandHasAQueenabout bringing home a date, we are totally on the same page there. Why do you think I mentioned she was dating someone to begin with? Insert eyebrow raise and evil smile here. Just you wait, just you wait.

My imagination is all I own, not Sherlock.

…

More time passed. He learned more about her, she about him.

A weird feeling continued to increase within him concerning the woman whom he remained with, one that he refused to acknowledge.

For her, she found she quite enjoyed this cats company, finding comfort and warmth from him just as he did her. Yet, he was also something of an enigma, a puzzle that was proving very difficult to fully figure out, but she would not give up. She did love a challenge and it was exciting to try and unravel the mystery that was her very strange cat.

(O.O)

It was a little over two months now since she found him and took him home. He had disappeared again for a whole day and night only to be there again in the morning just as he had done last month. She questioned where he had been, expected no response, and got none except a sly smile that she couldn't help but think was arrogant and imagined if he were human it would exude just that.

She let it go of course, just happy that he still continued to come back. It made her worry when he would leave sometimes, thinking he might be gone for good one of these times that he slipped out the window and she would never see him again. He knew he should, really just finally leave and not return, it was better for everyone if he did - before it got…complicated.

He just couldn't bring himself to desert this woman who had taken care of him, and continued to take care of him, who genuinely seemed to like him and wanted him there, who appeared so lonely in her life- with the loss of her father during university and estranged from her mother that left her when she was young to marry another then replacing her with her half brother who was approximately eight years younger than her- that he didn't want her to be sad if he left, he had become something of her friend and he didn't want to hurt her.

But it wasn't all just for her, his mind betrayed him, he was very much aware that he wanted to remain here with her even if it was selfish and even if there could be consequences should something happen.

It was like getting a glimpse of something he could never have, something right in front of him that he need only reach out and take - the results of revealing the truth, though, would undoubtably be catastrophic and worse than leaving well enough alone and getting as far from her as possible - and it hurt to think about.

He beat that part of him down, feelings were not something he needed, no good would come of it. He could hear a ghost of his brother's voice in his head mocking him, mocking his sentiment. Another voice battled that one, someone he called his friend, that told him that people needed friends and it was okay to feel.

He blocked all of those out and just enjoyed the hands running along his fur making him feel relaxed, calm and content. He had grown use to this, allowing himself to just enjoy her attentions, although right now it was divided between the program she was watching - something about a time traveling doctor that he actually admitted he rather liked - and giving him love as she called it.

Apparently her version of love involved a lot of touching, and he was vaguely aware of his mind wondering if it would be the same if he were currently a human man before her, would she devote her love and attention to him like this?

No, he refused those thoughts, he would not even think of it. He suddenly felt the need to get away from her that very instant. This was bad, he told himself.

He cannot get attached. Whatever these budding feelings - the sneer was practically tangible in his thoughts- were, he would have none of them. He would make sure to distance himself from them as quickly as possible.

It was like she could literally feel the shift in his mood before he even stood up and retreated from her touch, affecting an air of indifference to her- and those hands- as she attempted to reach out and stop him from leaving, breaking the comfortable moment from a second ago.

He simply dodged her and continued on his way as she let her hands fall back to the couch with a roll of her eyes at the cats ever changing behavior.

He returned a while later, he always did. She welcomed him back with a smile before going back to watching the television. Some other show was on now, one she clearly wasn't very vested in, but she didn't seem to want to read or do any other activity. Must be tired, or pondering over something, he couldn't decide which.

Her mind was occupied, and she didn't know what to do about her situation. It was Eric, the guy she had been dating, he hadn't called yet and she was getting a bit worried that he was no longer interested. She hadn't expressed these fears out loud though, not even just to her cat.

Once again he joined her on the couch, but remained on the other side where he was a safe distance away from her and her sweet touches- it was wrong of him to enjoy being with her, or just simply near her, so much.

She didn't seem to mind, he was surprised at how accommodating she was to him and his behavior. Mood swings as John would call them, claiming him to be like a petulant child who never learned how to properly behave or function, instead acting out or however he pleased as it suited him to the effect of gaining whatever he wanted.

The woman sitting with him now was probably the only other person who had ever accepted him and his mannerisms without thinking him a freak for it. It made something in his chest constrict at the mere thought of what she would think and do if she knew the truth.

It was rather painful, he would be losing something precious, a friend, something he didn't find often- or ever really. Very, very, few people could ever be counted as such by him. Never before had it been a woman. Not even Mrs. Hudson, mostly because she was more like a mother figure than what Molly was seen as. That was just the problem though, wasn't it? She was not exactly his friend, but she also was something important to him, someone he cared for and who appeared to care a great deal for him. She was also in the dark about the truth of his situation, and her finding out would be, well a bit not good.

He just didn't know how to explain it - what she is to him. Instead it remained a confusing mystery.

He looked over at her, she looked comfortable and far off somewhere in her own mind, yet relaxed, at peace, at home. He found he desperately wanted that feeling, wished he could share in it with her right then, but also pushed away the idea at the same time- not wanting to be held down by anything, not wanting to ruin anything.

And he would ruin it, if he stayed, he knew he just would at some point. He should leave before that happens, before she finds out.

He doesn't.

(O.O)

With the weekend off, Molly gladly took the time to just unwind by lazing about in her flat. With no one as company but the black cat with the beautiful eyes, she felt no need to put on any pretenses, she could be herself and let her guard down- it was only her cat with her after all.

Eric, the man she was still dating- maybe this one was actually going to last, she thought hopefully- was back from his weeklong business trip and had finally called her about going out tomorrow. It would be the fifth date now.

She wasn't up much for going out this weekend, but agreed to it anyway. For a bit there she had worried that, after they had spent the night at his place after their fourth date, he wasn't going to be interested anymore. When he told her he had a business trip to go on, her worries only increased believing he could be just making up an excuse to get out of their relationship. Or to head off the formation of a relationship with her if he didn't feel they were already in one.

Then he had called her after he got back and talked with her- she may have done a small dance in her living room under the ever watchful eye of her cat- the call did a lot to ease her internal distress.

Now it seemed he was still very much interested in continuing on with her, much to her joy and a certain blue eyed creatures displeasure.

Currently she sat comfortably on her couch. Once again she absently watched a show while he sat in front of her on the coffee table also barely paying any attention to the people on the screen. A sort of guessing game she came up with being played, distracting both from the program.

"How about Toby?" Another suggestion escaped her lips.

The cat gave her an un-amused look and shook his head in distaste.

It was a fun little game they played, had been playing for a while now, where she tried to pick a good name for her cat, but none of her names ever seemed right. He refused each one, either with a shake of the head or an entirely bored look. Once she even elicited a sort of snarl of disgust from him which made her burst out laughing at it.

"Come on, I like the name Toby." She said with a defiant smile as if she were seriously thinking about just calling him that anyway, which highly alarmed him. She laughed when she saw the horror written all over his face and decided not to torture him by calling him a name he clearly didn't want.

"I actually thought about naming the cat I was going to adopt that, now I have you and I can't name seem to find the right name for you. Just help me out with this okay?" She implored because she felt bad not having a name to call him by when he had been with her for nearly three months now.

He looked angry all of a sudden and she couldn't fathom why that look was directed at her.

She just said she had him. She implied he was hers! He wasn't, isn't, refuses to let her claim him as such. How dare she! His mind raged and he hated that he couldn't snap at her and throw harsh biting words that would cut her down and make her know exactly how he felt about her supposedly having him, as if she owned him.

He immediately left her and stocked off as he heard her trying to get him to come back with clear confusion lacing her voice which followed him out the window.

Of course he came back- he wasn't sure how long it had been since he left, he had been too caught up in his own mind, but calculated it had been less than two hours. He really couldn't force himself to just stay away as much as he tried to convince himself to do just that.

She only smiled at his return and welcomed him back home.

Home. That word struck him. It felt like he hadn't truly had a home in such a long time. Was this now his home? He supposed it had become the place he always wanted to come back to- no matter how hard he tried not to, how hard he tried to fight himself and the pull to come back. He felt comfortable, warm, and safe here. He felt…accepted by this woman and her embrace of him into her life and into her home.

He caved. It was official, this was his home now and that also meant she technically owned him. He was hers. He could imagine how John would react, even worse Mycroft. Oh what a joy it was going to be to have to deal with Mycroft, to sit through his mockery at him finally giving in and accepting his role as a cat, becoming a housecat, being owned by someone. He could hear it all now. He was never going to live it down, even if he ever returned to what he once was, it would always remain there, he had allowed himself to become domesticated and belong to another.

He relented, since he was accepting that this was the place he now called home. Whether because of the building itself or the woman in it, still remained the ever nagging question he could not find the answer to, or maybe didn't want to take the answer that was supplied to him when he wondered about it.

He knows he has grown too close to her, too fond of her, too complacent here. He knows it, yet is at a loss as to how to fix it- besides hurting her by running off in the night and abandoning her.

It was like her very existence taunted him, though. Her smile and her laugh- all versions that he had witnessed and categorized- were seared into his mind and often gave him odd feelings, not bad, just new and different. Halfway between frightening and wonderful, yet still making him want to feel it and feel more with her, for her. Her voice had similar affects on him when she praised him or coddled him or soothed him.

Her ever expressive face hid nothing away from his eyes and she looked at him with such care and affection. Oh how she would hate him if she knew the truth, knew that she had let her guard down around him because she thought him a simple cat. Maybe not simple, but nothing more than a cat nonetheless.

It was exhaustive and wearing on him, this constant battle with himself. He struggled with what to do, what was deemed as right in this situation, and how he could ever explain himself to her if he chose not to finally get out of her life. He accepted that he could call this place home, stay and belong, but at the same time, he knew he shouldn't.

(O.O)

His mind was working on these problems as she continued on where they had left off in their game from earlier. She had been reading on her Kindle when he came back instead of watching the television, and put aside her story to scoop him up into her lap and hold and pet him while listing off more names.

Then he did something he knew was very risky. Since she truly wanted to name him, he wanted to give her his name and maybe even wanted her to start to realize he wasn't just what he appeared to be.

It may freak her out or she may brush it off as another weird thing he did. He truly didn't see how she couldn't tell he was different, well to some extent she appeared to comprehend that, but beyond that she seemed unable to put the pieces together. Maybe she was just as stubborn as him when trying to refuse what was there that they attempted to pretend wasn't.

He moved out of her lap and sat down a bit in front of her. She thought he was getting up to leave her again, then he sat down, then even weirder she noticed his tail swishing about with bizarre movements.

She laughed because she didn't know what he was up to now and he turned his head behind him to look at her while she giggled at him.

"What are you doing now?" She questioned through her soft giggling.

He stopped his tail, let it fall back the couch, before once again starting up the movements. Giving her a pointed look with the intent that she should follow along.

This time she did follow the swishing motions and noticed it looked as if he was writing out letters.

She began to compile the letters. "S?" The cat nodded. "L?" The cat shook his head and tried again.

It took a while with spelling it out and her guessing the correct letters. Throughout the entire thing she felt a sort of rising level of unease growing inside her. It was like the dream she had that night when she witnessed her cat reading, only this time she couldn't attribute her cat spelling something out for her, and correcting her if she was wrong, to alcohol. All she knew was that it was definitely not normal.

She was half convinced her cat was some kind of genius or possibly an escaped genetic experiment at this point. She rather felt like she needed a drink right about now. Maybe she was simply slowly going insane. Losing her mind because of her cat swishing his tail in a manner that made it appear as though he spelled out letters. That was probably all it was, she was making more of this then there actually was. Her cat was not literally telling her what it's name was, because that…that would definitely land her in the madhouse if she told anyone.

As she got the last letter, she ran over all of them in the correct sequence he had done them in to spell out a name. "Sherlock?" She asked half scared the cat would accept the name, half hoping the cat wouldn't and instead would continue swishing its tail to disprove her thoughts and rapidly growing panic attack.

He did, though, accept it that is. He fully turned around and faced her with a wide almost Cheshire cat like smile on his face that only unnerved her all the more.

She basically leapt from her seat and moved to her book shelf across from the couch. The cat, Sherlock apparently, watched her as his smile faded and wariness replaced it.

"Well, what an…interesting name." She licked her lips, both them and her throat felt rather dry all of a sudden. "Unique, really." She fingered a book behind her and pulled it out. "Only one other place I have heard of that name." She moved cautiously back toward the couch and its occupant. She laid the book on the coffee table in front of it.

"Did you have a previous owner who liked these books, perhaps?" She asked tentatively. If he was some escaped genetic experiment, he still would have belonged somewhere before and could have been given his name by whomever took care of him then.

She watched the cat like a hawk as he actually took a look at the book she had placed down. Oh yes, the cat definitely understood her, always had. If that wasn't unnerving enough, the look of recognition certainly was.

…

Sometimes I have this problem with writing where I find myself basically re-iterating what I already wrote over again, then I look back at what I wrote and go, 'I just wrote the same thing only with different words- what the hell am I doing?' Then I have to go and try to figure out how to erase some of it, but then comes the question, which part and how do I get my point across fully without all of it? So frustrating dealing with myself sometimes. Ah, the struggles of writing. Does that ever happen to anyone else?

I hope you enjoyed. Let me know, thanks.