Prompt #322. Where did you get that hat? Involve a hat in your offering today.


"Where did you get that hat?"

My umbrella clinked against the rack as I glanced up. Holmes stood on the stairs, his attention firmly fixed on my headcover.

"Found it. Why?"

He stepped closer, still staring above my head.

"Where?"

I thought for a moment, trying to remember when I had spotted the new bowler in the gutter and what I had been doing. It had been sometime yesterday, but my rounds blended to a haze of houses and worried families.

"I don't remember."

His quick hand snatched the hat off my head, and he quickly rotated it to view the tag.

"This store is not in London."

"What does that matter?"

No answer. He ignored me to dart up the stairs to the sitting room, where I found him digging through his desk. A map unfolded to display the city.

"Holmes?"

"Where did your rounds take you?"

"Everywhere," I replied simply, adding, "You know yesterday was my busiest day this week. I started near Whitehall, but two patients live in Covent Garden, a third in Kensington, and a fourth on the south end of Hampstead. My bag needed replenishing after Hampstead, but I went to a shop near Mrs. Lankey's cottage instead of my normal one so I could reach that sick child in Clerkenwell faster. Are you going to tell me why a hat is so important?"

No. Pins quickly marked everywhere I mentioned. "When did you find it?"

"Do you really expect me to watch the clock on a day like that?"

Irritation bloomed, though he did not voice his opinion on my lack of attention. He could not say much when he frequently lost track of entire weeks.

"Was it before or after the storm late morning?"

I put my bag in its place and took out my appointment book without answering. Had that storm been unique enough to serve as a landmark in such a chaotic day?

"Before," I decided. "The initial gust of wind from the incoming rain nearly blew it away, and the rain had started by the time I arrived at the second house in Covent Garden. Why is a hat so important?"

"All in good time." He traced three possible routes across his map, crossed out one as going through a dangerous area, then scribbled something in his notes. "Come. Lestrade might need your statement."

"My statement?" I nearly tripped in my haste to catch up. Why would Lestrade care about a lost bowler? "Is the hat stolen or something?"

"No."

"Then why are we going to the Yard?"

He refused to answer, and I had no way of deciphering it on my own. Patients had kept me so busy the last several days that we rarely found ourselves home at the same time.

"What about your case? What puzzle are you working right now?"

Still no reply, and when another question received the same result, I gave up to watch the streets pass. I would have preferred a quiet evening at home over an unexpected trip to the Yard.

Or at least to know what I faced. I doubted I would be in any sort of trouble—not for picking a lost hat out of the gutter—but this could only apply to one of his cases. Had I managed to find proof of some smuggling ring or other illicit activity?

Possible, though I had no idea how a new hat could affect a case in any direction. Lestrade looked up as we entered, the tall stacks of paper filling his desk doing nothing to hide the surprise at our visit.

"Afternoon, Doctor. Mr. Holmes. Did you find something after all?"

"I told you Brinson was lying." Holmes tossed the hat to land in Lestrade's work area. "This puts him within a few blocks of the palace before yesterday's storm. He could not have reached the docks by ten."

Lestrade frowned at Holmes' tone but checked the hat's tag and brim. "I see only the store label. How do you know this is his?"

"The tag," Holmes replied. "We already know that is his preferred store, and the owner told me Brinson is his only customer to pay extra for a silk label."

"Hmm." The inspector studied the hat for another moment before glancing at me. "You found this?"

"On my rounds," I confirmed. "I do not remember exactly where, but it was before the late morning storm, which would put me between Whitehall and Covent Garden. I figured someone had lost it in the wind, and, with no way to find its owner, made it my own. It is a nice hat."

"It is," Lestrade acknowledged, "but I must keep it as evidence. Do you want it back when I am done?"

I opened my mouth to say yes—why would I not?—when an alert chimed in my mind. Why would I not? Lestrade would not have asked that without reason.

"Who is Brinson," I asked instead, "and how many people would use that hat to tie me to him?"

Surprise appeared again as Lestrade glanced at Holmes. "He did not tell you about this case?"

"No." Perhaps I should have asked before now. "He did not have the opportunity before today. Between my patients and his workload, we have not been in the same building for most of the last week. Why?"

"Brinson is a repeat murderer," Lestrade said bluntly. "He targets mostly the…" The reply faltered, realizing a piece he had overlooked until now. Something like astonishment appeared in his face. "The ill," he continued quietly, "and the doctor that treats them. Mr. Holmes, did you—"

"No," Holmes cut him off. "Watson found the hat by chance."

Wait a minute. The doctor that treated them?! "You used me as bait?"

"I just answered that." Holmes scowled at the building anger evident in my face. "I did not expect Brinson to be in Whitehall or Clerkenwell, but the Irregulars would have informed me if they had seen him."

"So you included children in this, too." I took a certain amount of pleasure at the worry that flickered when my knuckles whitened on my cane. "I thought we agreed you would tell me when either one of us was in danger."

"I had no indication that Brinson was operating in your area—"

"Yet he very obviously was." I did not usually interrupt, but he had involved the Irregulars. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself without you enlisting children to follow a murderer!"

"They would not have been involved," he refuted. "Merely aware. Do you need us to set the trap, Lestrade?"

The inspector indicated a negative, a faint grin escaping at Holmes' less than subtle change of topic. I would let it go for the moment, but they both knew I would renew the conversation as soon as we left.

"Send any more notes you have by the end of the day, if you would. We will probably look for him tonight in his rooms. Done correctly, he will not have a reason to run until he is already in custody."

"You would do better staking out the pub," Holmes replied. "More than one of his victims died from traps. His home is undoubtedly guarded the same way."

"Yes, you did mention that." Rapid page-turning found the corresponding note. "The pub, then, but no offense, Mr. Holmes, I think the others would prefer you stay out of this one."

That would also let Holmes and I finish our discussion without worry of the time. Holmes' harrumph said he saw that as well as I did, but Lestrade's smirk suggested another incident today as well. I would have to get that story later. For the moment, he simply confirmed that no one would have any reason to recognize a common bowler, no matter how nicely made. I fulfilled the pleasantries Holmes tried to skip before leaving Lestrade to plan his stakeout. Silence reigned between us until the cab lurched away from the sidewalk.

"You asked children to follow a murderer."

"I asked children to follow you." Mischief lay behind a twitched grin as a passing omnibus splashed my trouser cuff. "I had no reason to believe Brinson would target you, but nor would I risk the similarities. They warned Agar and Thompson a week ago."

"Then why keep me in the dark?"

One finger flicked the question away. "It would not have changed anything. You would not stop accepting patients, nor would you let me join your rounds. I saw no reason to give you something else to consider when a pair of Irregulars would alert you in the event of a problem."

So he had done this in a misguided attempt at consideration. That was better than the alternative.

Though still not ideal. "And find themselves in the midst of the problem," I finished. "Do you think any of those children can learn of trouble without trying to help?"

He made no reply, but when carelessness disappeared beneath a frown, I knew he had caught my point. He would not repeat this soon. I waited for the flat to come into view before I voiced a different question.

"So does this mean that I solved by pure luck a murder case you could not solve with a week's work?"

The resulting—and much more amusing—discussion lasted almost to dessert.


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