Rightly do I call myself an astute detective, but greatly fear I that some mysteries are too complex for even my superior intellect. Once a distant relative requested my presence for her wedding. I was loath to attend, for I felt strongly against abandoning the people of London for public ceremonies of maudlin emotion. However, Watson was insistent.

"It is but for a few hours, Holmes," quoth he, "and have not all men certain obligations toward their families?"

I allowed myself to be induced by his lucidity. I care not to describe the wedding, for it was as any other: saccharine, tedious, and severely lacking the slightest traces of novelty.

However, when I returned to my domicile, I had no sooner crossed the threshold before a dapper gentleman implored me on his knees that I might incarcerate him at once. Bewildered by this atypical greeting, I straightway sought Watson.

"I shall be with you in a moment!" he assured me from the other room.

"I shot a man!" the perplexing visitor divulged before I had put forth a single inquiry. "The doctor is tending the patient as we speak."

"Why have you confessed?" I queried.

"She's the devil!"

"Your eyes have not reddened, nor is there the scent of liquor on your breath. Who is the devil?"

"That demoness!"

My gaze followed his extended index finger to where Mrs. Hudson's cat lay curled up on her favorite hassock before the hearth.

Lighting my pipe, I attempted to recognize the correlation between the newest addition to the household, the powers of eternal torment, and a felon admitting his guilt. There was surely some scrap of evidence I had not yet gathered.

"Present the facts as precisely as you are able," I stated.

"I worked for Moriarty," the visitor began. "It started out simple enough. I ran errands or delivered messages. I fed his pet rat."

"My former nemesis kept no domestic animals."

"But it's the truth, Mr. Holmes! The boss had a pet rat! I guess one could argue that it was a wild rat, but if we didn't leave food out for it, it stole directly from Moriarty's plate, and when he found himself unable to capture or shoot the rat, he'd take his anger out on us! It also liked to steal from him, especially expensive items, and every time the boss committed a crime, the rat was there, no matter where the event happened, yet it never officially lived with us. It was a wild rat; it came and went as it pleased. It was so cunning that we even called it 'the little professor' when we were sure our boss couldn't hear us."

I concealed a chuckle. No doubt this gentleman had taken complete leave of his senses, but I was rather amused envisioning a rodent version of Moriarty.

"When the boss died, I sort of took over the gang, but one by one, everyone kept getting arrested, even more so after the rat disappeared. I suspect he died of old age. Rodents don't live as long as humans."

"You digress," I responded.

"Anyway, after the rat was gone, the arrest rate of our gang doubled and tripled until I was the only remaining member. It was like there was this unseen force against us all. After I shot my latest victim, who unfortunately was not killed, this cat appeared out of nowhere and attacked me! You may see for yourself!"

He inclined his head and extended his arms, allowing me to gaze upon the lacerations to his neck and palms. I further observed his stockings were shredded as drapes.

"She herded me like a sheepdog! She chased me, and when I didn't go the direction she wished, she jumped in front of me and hissed! That's how I came to be here! I was frightened out of my wits, so I confessed everything to your associate! He hated to leave a criminal unattended, but the Hippocratic Oath demanded he attempt to save the victim's life."

I finished my pipe. "Did it never occur to you to flee during Watson's absence?"

"I couldn't! The cat blocked the door each time I rose! I'd rather face prison than that monster!"

Although I was quite uncertain what to make of his tale, his confession was sufficient grounds for arrest, and the nearly murdered victim was quite willing to testify against him in court. Deducing motive and previous criminal history was no difficult task.

"Watson," I queried some hours later, "do you recall Moriarty?"

"How could I ever forget him, Holmes? I feared his defeat had caused your own demise."

"Kept he any manner of rodent for companionship?"

"If so, I've not heard of it. Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

Taking my violin, I began coaxing forth a melody, yet I was nearly inclined to believe I saw the cat touch the tip of her tongue to her lips, as if savoring a pleasant taste. However, being a man of science, I was perfectly aware the action was naught more than coincidence, so I dismissed it at once.