Daffodils
Based on the creations of ACD and Hades Lord of the Dead's December Calendar Challenge of Awesomeness:
From Book girl fan: Daffodils.
"Keep a weather eye out Watson," Sherlock Holmes ordered as we stood in the alley watching the crowded square. "It is here we shall meet our informant."
"And how shall we know him?" I asked as I watched London's citizens walk to and fro.
"According to the message I decrypted we shall know our informant by the code word," he paused for dramatic effect, "daffodil."
"Daffodil," I repeated dubiously.
"Yes."
"Holmes, I hope we're not expected to walk up to every stranger we see and say 'daffodil' to his face for we would look very queer indeed," I warned him.
"Yes. Quite," he murmured while trying to avoid my gaze.
I rolled my eyes. "Holmes you never told me: What makes meeting this fellow so dashed important anyway?"
"My informant is a vital piece I need to take down Professor Moriarty's criminal organization," my friend informed me. "This is will be the first real proof to all my investigations! From this I shall weave a net large enough to take down all the conspirators! But wait, unless my eyes deceive me I see a man with a daffodil in his lapel just now!"
"Yes, I see him Holmes!" I nodded as I peered into the crowd. "The little fellow with the checked trousers! There he is!"
"What? He doesn't have checked trousers, he's that older gent with the top hat and cape," my friend insisted as he pointed at another man in the crowd. "You see? Right there!"
"Holmes, wait! That tall dandy with the silver hair is also wearing a daffodil in his lapel!"
"As is that man with the scarf and the fedora," my friend frowned. "As does that fellow in the cricketing sweater. No, my mistake, that's a stick of celery. Just what is going on here? Hm. This bears investigation."
We entered the square and passed through the crowd until we found the source of the mysterious daffodils: A smartly dressed blonde woman ringing a bell and asking for charity. On a table next to her was a box of daffodils, a cash box with a slot and a large sign that had 'HELP THE INJURED WAR VETERANS' and the name of the charitable organization she represented.
"Well that solves the mystery of the daffodils," Holmes muttered. "Still it seems like a dashed coincidence doesn't it? One that defies belief."
"Help the injured war veterans?" the woman called in a high pitched childlike voice. "If you do, you'll get a nice daffodil!"
"We might as well give as long as we're here," I shrugged as I approached her. "I remember how pitiful I was when we first met. Not everybody is able to get back up after such a fall."
"If we must," Holmes grumbled as he followed me.
"With all these blessed daffodils about, I doubt our contact will show," I opened my coin purse and dropped some shillings into the money box. "Here you are, Miss. God save the Queen."
The woman became so friendly she was almost flirtatious. "Oh! Thank you kind sir!" she gushed melodramatically as she pinned a daffodil to my lapel. "Our poor servicemen thank you! And here is your daffodil!"
"Thank you Miss."
"No-no sir! I don't think you heard me!" she chirped in her piccolo voice. "I said here is your daffodil," she insisted while winking saucily at me.
"Yes," I nodded, "and I said thank you."
"That's not the reply word!" she gasped as she pulled a large bulky envelope out of my open coat. "Sorry! Mistook you for someone else! Must dash!"
"What the devil!" I sputtered. "Where did that envelope come from?"
"She slipped it into your coat while she was pinning the daffodil to your lapel," my friend said with some amusement. "The reason she is frightened and in such a hurry to leave is because you failed to give the proper reply, which is 'birdcage'."
"Birdcage! Thank God!" the girl gasped. "So you are Sherlock Holmes?"
"Yes, and I must say 'Porlock', that you are not the slightest bit as I imagined you," he smiled as she handed him the envelope. "Well done, madam. You have fooled even my discerning eye when it comes to your handwriting."
"Oh I'm teaching my brother how to read and write," she grinned. "I have him copy my writing and tell him that I'm writing a historical romance filled with espionage and sizzling gypsies! My handwriting is rather girly you see. You don't have to be an expert to tell it's mine."
"What is your relationship to the infamous Moriarty if I may ask?" Holmes pinned a daffodil to his lapel as he pocketed the envelope.
"Oh, I'm his mistress," she blushed. "Running a criminal organization and studying theoretical physics can be awfully stressful you know! I knew about the physics part when I met him but I discovered the criminal mastermind part afterwards!" She drew a breath. "Well, good luck taking him down and all! I'm going to join a nunnery under an assumed name until this all blows over! If you can find me, tell me how it all works out, will you?" With those parting words, the girl turned on her heel and walked away to disappear into the crowd.
"Well so much for judging from appearances," I muttered. "She seems like such a proper little thing too. If that slip of a girl is your informant I suppose that harmless professor of mathematics really is a criminal mastermind."
"Yes," Holmes nodded as he picked up the cash box. "She left this so on your way home kindly deposit it where it will do the most good. I have work to do."
END