Legal Note: I do not own any of the characters associated with these stories. I do not have any legal right to use them or any other proprietary words originating from these movies or books. This story was done just for the fun of it. Not for profit. If you like it please tell me. If you don't like it please tell me why with particulars but not excessive detail. Any one who wants to rip on my style or me just to make them self feel better is really only polishing their wand and their statements will receive the due amount of interest (i.e. NONE). And finally before any one brings it up: I do know my punctuation stinks. I just don't care.

Summary: Harry gets a visiter from out of town. Mostly done for Douglas Adams fans.

Things had been slow for a couple of weeks. Not that I was really complaining but my rent was due and I still had to pay Mike to get the blue beetle fixed. Normally I'm a little more choosey about who comes into my office but it had been slow. When I'd first seen this guy I assumed he had just crossed from the Nevernever. The fae have a tendency to get things almost right. Usually they look like something from a bad eighty's movie or an extra from the silent era. This one in his beat up old brown suit, red checked shirt and green striped tie was definitely in that category. Emphasis on the gory. But there was nothing that felt inhuman or smacked of magic. He was round in the middle. His belly pushed out the front of his shirt enough to make the buttons strain. His eyes were lively but they sort of swam behind thick metal framed glasses that were at least twenty years out of date. Still. Not too long ago I'd had one of the queens of Faerie sitting in the very seat in which this guy had planted himself. I looked at him as he smoked his French cigaret and he looked at me with a question in those eyes of his. I opened my desk drawer and pulled out a reasonably new pad of paper and a pen. I opened another drawer and pulled out my .44 magnum. A look of intense concern distorted the slightly plump face.

"Please place your hands on the desktop palms down." I told him. When he hesitated I cocked the hammer back and his hands flashed into place. "This is only a test."

With my free hand I reached back into my drawer and got a nail. It was just a plain, ordinary nail. The kind that you get at hardware stores. I set it on the desktop and carefully flicked it at him. The nail rolled right to his finger tips and bumped his pinky. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Carefully he raised his hand and took hold of the nail. At this point if he were from the Nevernever he'd be howling in pain from the contact with cold iron. But he just held it up. Looked at it and then back to me.

"It's a nail." He said in his English accent. "Do I pass?"

I looked down at the card he'd given me and read:

DIRK GENTLY'S

HOLISTIC DETECTIVE AGENCY

We solve the whole crime
We find the whole person
Phone today for the whole solution to your problem
(Missing cats and messy divorces a speciality)
22a Peckender St., London N1 01-354 9112

"Okay, Mr. Gently." I said putting the gun away. "What sort of consulting fee are we talking about?"

This was going to be a long week.