Work Text:
"Moran, want to explain something?"
The sniper had just walked in and already looked nothing but guilty. "I was hoping I'd beat you home."
Jim's lip curled in disgust. In his hand, dangling by the scruff of its neck, was a little smokey grey kitten. He raised it up higher for Moran to see, like rubbing a dog's nose in its mess. "What is this doing here?"
Sebastian quickly put the bags he'd carried in down and took the kitten away from Jim before the madman threw it or something. The little thing mewed and sunk its little claws into his shirt as he held it.
"She needed a home."
Jim threw his arms up, "Does this place look animal friendly?"
Moran frowned a bit. "Look, it's not like I went out looking to fill the place with furballs."
"Then what the hell is this one doing here?"
"Down by the docks there was this cat that used to hang around. She never really got in the way, just like to follow me when I was around and would curl up nearby when I took care of business down that way." He glanced from the kitten up at Jim. The man was murderous, but he was listening.
"Well, I was down that way today and the cat, she got hit by a car or something. Her leg was pretty mangled and next to her was this little one. I took them both to some clinic, but the best they could do was put her down. They were going to find this one a home, but it didn't feel right. So I brought her here. I was going to explain, honest I was."
"It's not like you to bring in strays," the genius said with disgust.
"Yeah, like you can talk about bringing in strays," Seb grunted. Might not have been from the docks, but most of Moriarty's men were acquired when no one else wanted them.
"At least mine kill on command."
"She'll kill things," Seb said stubbornly. "She'll be a great huntress when she gets bigger."
Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath in Gaelic. "Fine. Keep the damn thing, but I swear to god, Moran, if that thing makes a mess of things it's on your head."
Sebastian grinned, "Thanks, boss."
---
The kitten grew up into a lanky young cat in no time. She had sharp orange eyes and just a splash of black on her boots that made it look like she'd stepped in something wet.
By some miracle, Jim accepted her after a couple of weeks. He'd come in on some high and picked her up from the couch, carrying her around the flat as he did his thing. Sebastian was pretty sure Ghost looked petrified at first, but the two had grown on each other after that. It was almost domestic.
Some nights, Seb would clean his guns in Jim's office and Ghost would wander in and demand attention from them both before finding somewhere to perch and watch them.
When either of them came in covered in blood from a mission or meeting gone sour, she would follow after them and curiously sniff and paw at their coats until the mess was gone.
Jim even got her a custom collar and tag for when they started to let her out on the fire escape to wander around the alleys below. It had a spiderweb design and a little dangling silver spider tag with one of their spare phone numbers etched onto it.
After about the third month of Ghost's wanderings outside, Sebastian was examining her claws as the two of them stretched out on the couch. "How come she doesn't bring home dead things?"
"What?"
Seb looked over at Jim on his laptop across the room. "You heard me. She comes in with blood on her claws, she's obviously hunting things. Remember the feathers on the fire escape? Well, don't cats bring their humans dead things? Isn't that how cats show they like you or something?"
Jim rolled his eyes. "I'm really not going to discuss cat psychology right now, Sebastian. Ask her why she isn't dragging in corpses."
Sebastian just glanced down and was met with two big blinking orange eyes and a littler merow. He stroked her fur and sighed. "I'd settle for a gimp mouse, you know."
---
Sebastian was late one night. The hit had been tipped off that someone was after him and his security had tripled from what it was supposed to be. Sebastian should have just left and come back another night, but he knew how much Jim wanted the man's head on a stick and he was determined to deliver.
When Sebastian did finally get in, his shirt was decorated with arterial splatter and 90% of what he was wearing was destined to see an incinerator before dawn, but he'd got the job done. He stepped in, locked the door behind him, and looked over at Jim.
What he meant to say was, 'McNara's dead.' What he actually said was, "What the fuck is that?"
Sitting on the kitchen table next to Jim was Ghost, and at her paws was a dead magpie. He could hear her purring from across the room under Jim's hand.
"You have to be kidding me. She brings you dead things, but not me? You didn't even want her at first!" It was irrational anger, but Sebastian Moran had had a rough night and now his cat was betraying him.
Jim chuckled and picked up Ghost, making his way over to the fuming sniper. "You're wrong, you know."
"What? You killed the bird for her?" he snapped, "A little birthday present?"
Jim rolled his eyes dramatically, "No." He twirled her tail around his fingers and smiled as she pawed at his hand to stop him. "Cats don't bring home dead things for people they like. There's no reason for it. Cats only bring home dead things because they think their humans are lousy hunters and they don't want them to starve."
Sebastian stared as Jim's knowing smile turned into a Cheshire grin.
"And you, Tiger, have never given her a reason to think you're a lousy hunter," he said, picking at his blood stained shirt. "Lucky me though, I have two excellent hunters to provide for me."