JWP #20:

How To Train Your Cormorant: Watson and Holmes deal with a predatory seabird, or some other trained animal (cf. VEIL.)

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How about a predatory seabird AND another trained animal?

"Walk with me?"

Holmes looked up from the notes he was organizing, eyeing me where I stood near the door of the cottage.

"Where?"

I shrugged. "Along the water. Across the field. I don't care. I just want to get out of the cottage for a while."

He eyed me for a moment longer before nodding. "Give me a minute."

Settling his notes to keep his place, he stood and joined me at the door.

"Field or beach?" I asked as he locked the door behind us.

He pretended to think about that. "We walked along the water last time."

"Through the fields it is," I replied. "I don't believe we have explored west of the cottage, yet."

We walked in silence for several minutes, he lost in thought while I simply enjoyed the warm day.

"What notes are you reorganizing today?" I finally asked him.

"I am looking through the mid-nineties." He paused, then continued with a faint grin, "Remember the abbey grange case?"

I nodded. "The lady whose lover killed her husband. You nearly wrote that one off before thinking it over on the train. That was shortly after the veiled lodger case."

"The lion?" he asked thoughtfully. "That was a strange one, less a case and more a confession."

"I wonder where she is today," I said quietly, more musing aloud than expecting an answer. I hoped she had found a reason to continue living. I, for one, knew how hard that could be at times, and I would not wish that on anyone.

A call on the other side of the field cut off whatever he might have replied, and we looked over. A young man stood at the edge of the field, apparently feeding the seagull above him.

I chuckled, and Holmes struggled to smother a grin. The seagulls out here were vicious. There had been several times that we simply sat back and watched someone learn the hard way not to feed the gulls, and it would not be long before more gulls joined that first to attack the man instead of the food he was throwing.

We turned to continue through the field, wanting to get away before the flock descended, but a call carried over the field from behind us, and I glanced back.

The man was running toward us, yelling something, and I heard Holmes cry out as a seagull let out a loud squawk.

"Get back! Back!"

The seagull dove at Holmes again, and I stepped forward, swinging my stick to drive it away. Years of fighting with my heavy cane paid off, and the seagull fell to the ground, stunned, just as I felt a light touch on my trousers.

I reacted on instinct, shoving my hand into my pocket. I have no idea what I expected, but a ferret with my wallet in its teeth was not it, and I stared for a moment as the pieces fell into place.

The seagull still on the ground provided a distraction while the ferret stole whatever it could.

Holding the ferret by the tail, I used my other hand to reclaim my wallet as I caught Holmes' eye. By the anger in his gaze, I knew we had come to the same conclusion.

"Are you alright?" The young man finally made it across the field, panting. "Terribly sorry about that, mates. I was feeding the birds when I realized Wyatt had run off." He gestured to the ferret, clearing asking for me to hand the thief to him.

"I think not," the anger in Holmes' tone brought the man up short, "Robert Turner."

The man—Turner—froze, paling, and Holmes used his stick to pin the recovering seagull in place before continuing. "I believe I warned you years ago that if I caught you stealing again, you would not enjoy the consequences."

"M-M-Mr. Holmes," he stuttered, clearly resisting taking a step back to be out of reach of Holmes' cane.

Holmes scanned him from head to toe. "You trained Wyatt and the bird to team up against unsuspecting walkers. They would steal whatever they could, and with your target distracted by the bird, you could act apologetic while taking the ferret and the spoils. You are on a week's vacation, staying in the one-bedroom cottage a mile and a half north of here, and you were originally planning to leave yesterday but rescheduled to three days from now."

Holmes leaned over, his gaze firmly rooting Turner to the ground while he gently picked up the seagull. "I expect that tomorrow morning the local police station will solve the rash of thefts plaguing the area for the last week, or I will be forced to provide them with the answer. Am I clear?"

Turner swallowed audibly and nodded. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

"Good. Now get going. I do not want to see you out again tonight."

"But—" His gaze flicked between the animals Holmes and I held securely but gently.

Holmes scanned him again. "You have no other animals. I will give them to someone who will not use them for crime, which is better than what the police will do." His gaze softened the barest fraction. "I will not harm them. You know that, lad, just as you know that I will be able to find you if you do not turn yourself in."

Turner nodded again, his eyes downcast, and he slowly walked back across the field.

"How do you know him?" I asked as he carefully wrangled the gull into a position that would not injure the bird nor allow it to escape.

His frown gained a touch of shame. "Rob was one of my failures," he answered quietly. "He was one of the early Irregulars, but I had to kick him out because he refused to stop stealing from me. I set him up with a job with a local newspaper with a warning that if I ever caught him at it, I would turn him in, former Irregular or no. The last I heard, he had been fired for stealing ink and both blank and printed paper, but he must have left London shortly thereafter. I never found him, and I never heard of him again—until this week. Be wary of that ferret, Watson. It is likely trained to return to its master."

I smirked, watching the creature walk over my shoulders as I shifted a bit of meat from hand to hand.

He looked up at the silence, and a smirk of his own appeared. "When have you had experience with ferrets?"

"I have not, but they are very similar to another animal. What do you mean you had not heard of him again until this week? Do you not mean until today?"

Holmes shook his head, leading me back toward the cottage as his amusement at the ferret mixed with shame at the memory. "I was going through your old case notes looking for any reference we had to trained animals. Rob had not started training animals when I knew him, but his father traveled with the circus, and every report had the seagull in common. I did not want to voice my theory until I was sure."

I heard the apology beneath his words and responded quickly, "I understand, Holmes. Don't worry about it." Neither of us spoke for a long moment, but I finally asked, "What are we going to do with the bird?"

He glanced down at the faintly struggling gull held firmly in his hands. "Stackhurst mentioned a man a few stations north that takes care of birds. I will take it to him, but the gull has been trained to attack. There might not be anything the man can do."

I nodded, knowing well just how much damage a seagull could do if it chose. "We could keep the ferret," I told him.

His head snapped up, and I laughed at the surprise in his gaze. He smirked, relaxing as he realized I was not serious.

"I know of someone who might be able to give it a home," I said before he could reply.

Confusion crossed his face. "Who would that be?"

"Remember the case I titled 'The Adventure of the Crooked Man?'"

His confusion cleared. "Henry Wood?"

I nodded. "You know I have kept occasional contact with him over the years. A ferret is similar in many ways to a mongoose, and Teddy is long gone. He might appreciate the company, especially if we accompany Wyatt to Aldershot."

He thought it over for barely a moment before agreeing, and we stopped at the cottage to find something to use as a carrier. Once assured that they would not easily escape, we took turns watching the animals while the other packed before heading to the station. I would have preferred the motorcar, but it was not yet drivable after our last misadventure.

While waiting for the train, Holmes produced a note from his pocket and handed it to a boy I recognized as one Holmes frequently employed to run messages.

"Are you free the rest of today?" he asked, and the boy nodded. "Good. Do you know the small cottage about two miles north of mine?"

"The red one that is always for rent?"

Holmes nodded sharply. "I need you to watch that house the rest of today. There is a man there, about the same age as your father, with dark hair and olive skin. If he leaves today, follow at a distance. If he goes anywhere but the police station, run this note to Inspector Bardle. You can leave when he turns in for the night."

The boy shoved the note in his pocket with a nod, and he disappeared quickly as Holmes and I waited for the train.

"I doubt he will go anywhere," I voiced after several moments of silence.

Holmes glanced at me. "You are probably correct, but I will not be here to watch."

"And you hate the idea of having to track him almost as much as the fact that you had to fulfill your word," I finished.

He nodded but made no answer, and I left him to his thoughts, checking to make sure both bird and ferret were secure in their makeshift carriers as the train rolled into the station. With a stop for the seagull, we should arrive in Aldershot in a few hours and have plenty of time to return today should Wood not want company.

I could not decide if I wanted Wood to keep the ferret or not. I would not admit it to Holmes yet, but if Wood did not want Wyatt, I rather liked the idea of a ferret running around the cottage.