Written for the LiveJournal community Watsons_Woes for their July Writing Prompts challenge. The prompt for day 28 was: Botany Bay: Plants frequently play an important part in Holmesian stories. Pick an herb, flower, or other plant, and make it a key part of your entry today.
Part of my Spencer-verse (primarily canon with a few details borrowed from the Granada TV series).
_Cat's Delight_
When one of the men suspected in a string of increasingly violent robberies turned up dead, Holmes determined that he and his partner had a falling out, most likely over their next target. The only clue as to what that target might be was a drawstring cloth bag filled with a dried, crumbled plant of some sort.
Holmes suspected it was hashish, but the smell when a small amount was burned was not correct. He performed several chemical tests that evidently did not produce the results needed or desired, for Holmes turned away with an expression of displeasure and his jaw was clenched around his pipe more firmly than usual. He went to the bookshelves and began paging through volumes rapidly before dropping them onto the floor.
Spencer had watched attentively as Holmes worked at the deal table. When Holmes left, he jumped up onto Holmes' chair and batted at the cloth bag. Then Spencer grabbed the bag in his teeth and hopped down. I was about to retrieve him and scold him for interfering with the case, but I found Spencer's subsequent behavior too interesting. For he had flopped onto the floor, the bag near his head, and was alternately stretching out and rubbing his face all over the bag, purring so loudly I could hear it halfway across the room.
"Holmes?" I said, raising my voice slightly to be heard over the book pages rustling. When he paused and looked over at me, I gestured toward Spencer, "Does that help?"
Holmes hurried over to Spencer, who was now lazily stretched out on the carpet next to the bag, looking quite pleased with himself. I followed and knelt beside Holmes, noting that Spencer's eyes were wide; he looked quite like a person under the influence of a narcotic.
"It was meant for a cat," Holmes said as if that meant something significant, then took the bag and hurried to where his notes were spread out on his desk. Spencer mewed forlornly, but started purring again when I stroked his side.
After Spencer's unwitting contribution, the case came to a rapid conclusion. The next robbery target was the house of a wealthy family with a very unfriendly cat, so presumably the catnip was to occupy him while the suspects entered the house. With Lestrade and his men, we waited there to apprehend the remaining suspect, who defiantly refused to tell why his former partner was dead.
"It was the cat," Holmes said flatly. "He wanted to merely distract it, while you preferred to kill it."
"He wasn't willing to do what needed to be done," the oaf said belligerently. "He didn't have the guts."
"We'll see if you have the guts to face the noose," Lestrade said derisively. "Is that all, Mr. Holmes?"
Holmes waved them away, his disgust with the man evident in his expression. I wondered if his thoughts also turned to Spencer and the fact that there were men who would kill a pet if it interfered with their evil intentions.
After we returned home, Spencer was the grateful recipient of both the catnip bag and a share of Holmes' bacon at breakfast the next morning.