Best Friends, Worst Enemies

Chapter 1

by Erin~.~Annabelle Prachett

It's not finished yet. In class we were all given pen names of the characters we first created in our class. Kinda confusing to me, but teachers can be odd that way.

Sherlock Holmes sneezed for the twenty (millionth) time. He gratefully took another box of tissues from Annabelle Prachett, a girl from his time.

Annabelle was still as pretty as Holmes last remembered her. With brown hair that was usually tied back in an elaborate ponytail and left to hang over her shoulder. Her eyes were a shade lighter than her hair, and always had a gleam in them.

Holmes glared at her when he saw a smile threaten to creep across her face. It only made her laugh as the dimples appeared on her cheeks.

"Sorry," Annabelle apologized between gasps for air. "But you could give Rudolph the Reindeer a run for his money." She was hit with two flying pillows. She ducked out of the room and came back with a large cup of tea. "This should help."

"Thank you." Holmes moaned before taking a large sip. "I wonder what couldíve gotten me ill. The only thing Iím allergic to is caaa..." He sneezed loudly and groaned. "Cats."


Watson bent down to his hands and knees. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty...."

A small black and white kitten trotted to Watson on wobbly legs. The kitten meowed as she slowly rubbed against Watsonís legs. Watson gave the kitten an affectionate pat on the head. "Whereíd you come from?"

"Meow," the kitten said.

Watson chuckled as he picked up the kitten. "I think youíll make a fine addition to Holmesí flat." He hid the kitten under his cloak as he trotted home.


"Hello, Annabelle," Watson cheerfully said. "How is Holmes?"

"Heís not feeling too well," Annabelle reported as she carried a large tray into the kitchen. She smiled when she saw Watsonís curious face study a large pot.

"Jam," she said. "When Sherlock and I were children we used to eat ourselves sick eating my motherís jam."

Watson started to laugh loudly at the mental image. When he felt the kitten move, he jumped suddenly.

"Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no." Watson said with a wave of his large hand. "We droids sometimes...Welll...."

"Ah, Watson!" Holmes said, interrupting Watsonís thoughts. "Have you seen a cat around here?"

"Meow!" the kitten said.

Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"


Watson fumbled around in his cloak as he watched Holmes fold his arms. "Watson, whatís under your...." Holmes slowly said. He cried out when the small kitten poked its head out. "A cat!"

"But, Holmes, itís a stray!" Watson protested as he produced the rest of the kitten.

"She is rather cute," Annabelle added.

"Donít you start." Holmes scolded. He grudgingly allowed Annabelle to lead him to his chair.

"Oh, stop it Sherlock." Annabelle shot back. "Watson couldnít leave that kitten there any more than you could abandon us." She placed her hands on either side of the chair nearly pinning Holmes in it. "Donít be so hard on him," she whispered.

"Yes, Mummy," Holmes muttered back.

Watson came into the room, beaming. "Iíve named our kitten. Gypsy." He set the kitten down. She began to wander towards Holmes who frowned at her.

"I donít think we can keep her." Holmes announced.

"Sherlock!" Annabelle snapped. She partially felt sorry for him, knowing how argumentative he could get when he was ill.

"Annabelle Julia Prachett!" Holmes snapped back as he folded his arms.


While Watson had thought most kittens delivered in the love department, Gypsy delivered in the pain department. Especially to Holmes. He wondered why the kitten was so nice to him and so nasty to Holmes.

Holmesí yelling captured Watsonís attention. He found Holmes holding the kitten out at armís length and glaring at her. "O tell me, small kitten. Why did you feel the need to sink your little claws into my leg?"

Gypsy stared back at him with large blue eyes. "Meow," the kitten said.

Holmes sighed. "I guess that beats a hiss."

Gypsy started to growl and bit into Holmesí hand. "Ow!" Holmes yelled. He tossed the kitten onto the couch.

Holmes stormed past Annabelle who was in the kitchen. "What happened to you?" she asked.

"Go ask our little meat-eating friend," Holmes grumbled as he cleaned the bite.

Questions? Comments? Death threats?


On to part 2!

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