A/N: these last few have been short because i have been restricted to mobile due to travel.

From Ennui Enigma: Penguins

"And this is ice hockey?"

"Yes Holmes."

"And the objective is, I'm sure, just what one would imagine it to be?"

"Yes Holmes."

He leaned his elbow upon his knee and then rested his chin in his hand. We were both bundled to the ears against the cold. Our client was one Benjamin Pope, an amateur ice hockey coach who suspected a rival team for roughing his players off the ice.

The violence had resulted in the hospitalization of one of the defensemen after he had been sent a hollowed-out book spring loaded with a knife inside. No one had been seen delivering the package, and the poor lad's sister had said it was in the box like any other unanswered-for delivery.

Other incidents included a polite Finnish player taking a rock to the face, a young lad narrowly avoiding being poisoned, and the coach himself nearly being run down by a cab.

"Someone would kill for this... glorified children's game?"

I watched the practice continue with some interest. I had taken notice of the sport some time ago, as it was gaining popularity. "Our colonial cousins are preparing to make it a professional sport. I dare say in the next few years we will be seeing more of it. And really Holmes, it is more than twelve men sliding around on the ice like penguins."

"And what, pray tell, is a penguin?"

My mouth fell open slightly and I turned to see if he was serious. Holmes looked bored. I narrowed my eyes, but he showed no sign of being in jest. Still, after the last time I had been the played for a fool I had resolved to be on guard.

"Apologies, Holmes. It is the sporting term for a player who is very impressive looking but is rarely effective."

He didn't say anything, but kept watching the ice. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. At least his little trap hadn't caught me.

It seemed like we would continue to sit through practice in silence when Holmes suddenly surged to his feet.

"You there, penguin! Step away from the bench!"

I was too surprised to laugh. The unfortunate young man who had been singled out came to an abrupt halt, as did everyone on the ice. Mister Pope started moving forwards as well and his players followed his lead. Holmes staggered onto the ice. I got up to follow, much slower on account of my leg. If he wanted to slide to his death in such a hurry, I would let him.

Holmes finally cornered the player, now backed by his own team. "You are a cab driver by trade, are you not?"

The young man nodded. "Indeed," Holmes started, "your trousers give you away. I find that this recent string of attacks would be easily accomplished by a mobile yet unassuming looking individual."

One of Pope's men reached for the insulated water jug on their bench and Holmes surged forward to slap it out of his hands.

"I would avoid that particular jug, Mister Lindon. It seems the danger hounding your team is getting sloppier. I saw this man slip something into the water."

I had just reached the edge of the lake when pandemonium broke out. The accused tried to flee, and every other man around him came to the consensus that it was time to brawl. Holmes was caught in a flurry of punches, kicks, and the occasional flying stick. Two men tackled the poisoner and all three went sliding my way. I jumped to the side as they crashed into the slush. Holmes would have to handle his own for a moment. I reached down and helped the two forwards capture their man.

Mister Pope and the other coach had managed to part the two teams, though there were still a great deal of insults being thrown back and forth. Holmes was sprawled on the ice, holding himself up by his knees and elbows.

"Holmes, we have him!" I called. "He's not going anywhere."

"Wonderful, Watson." Pope was there to help him to his feet. "You have your penguin. It seems he has continued in his failure as he began."

Pope, bewildered, looked to me for clarification. "Penguin?"

A broad grin split my face. I felt the sudden look but did not meet Holmes' eye. "A flightless bird to the last, Mister Pope."

"Ah." He said. "Well I can't thank you enough gentlemen. You have our sincere gratitude."

"You are very welcome." Holmes said in a clipped tone. "Now I would like to get out of the cold and have a quick word with my associate."

It occurred to me that this quick word would be much colder than the outdoors.

A/N: annd with the penalty on number 93 from the Moriarty Syndicate, your Baker Street Irregulars are ON! THE! POWER PLAY!

*insert funnier hockey joke here*