Prompt #87. No Dogs Allowed: Put an animal in the story – one other than a dog. (Naturally an exception for using Sherlock Hound characters.)

Takes place after and directly references JWP 20, but you do not need to read that first to understand this.


"Teddy?" Surprise stopped me in the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

The little creature barely looked up, much more interested in nosing around under the table, and memory caught up with me a moment later. Teddy had died years ago. Whose pet was in our kitchen?

I had no way of knowing, but the animal trotted over when I knelt. Obviously friendly, it sniffed my fingers and rifled my pockets until it found the jerky I had saved for a snack.

"Hungry, then," I murmured, "as usual. Ah, you may have some. Not all."

When an urgent telegram had called me to London yesterday, I had not expected to find an Indian grey mongoose on my return, but one paw tried again to reach the main bundle, growling playfully all the while. When I refused, it grudgingly settled for the offered meat. Those sharp teeth made quick work of even the tough jerky.

"Are you lost?"

No answer, of course, but I settled on the floor anyway. I had long thought a mongoose or a ferret would liven up the cottage a bit, and I would enjoy this little one's presence for as long as I could. Holmes had never cared for a pet.

"How did you get here? I imagine your owner is probably looking for you by now. Leave that alone."

My tone chased it away from the chair leg it had considered climbing. A piece of lint from the rug produced a loud sneeze—and a laugh.

"Keep your face out of the rug, then."

It snorted once more then moved away. Footsteps sounded behind me before I could follow.

"I see you found our guest."

Holmes walked slowly closer, then a hand reached down to steady me to my feet. The creature scurried back across the room to check for more jerky as I directed a silent question at Holmes.

"Mr. Wood found himself in a bind this week," he answered. "He wired early this morning asking if we could keep Coco for a few days. I did not think you would mind."

"Not at all." Happy squeaks carried when Coco found the small piece of jerky I dropped, and I checked the room for signs of another small animal. "Are we keeping Wyatt, too, then?"

When Holmes and I had caught a former Irregular using a trained ferret and gull to steal from the locals, Holmes had relieved the young man of the animals and sternly ordered him to turn himself in. To my knowledge, my friend had not been forced to fulfill his threat to track young Rob Turner down, but we had made a day of finding the animals new homes. A bird enthusiast several stations north had taken the gull, and the former soldier had gladly welcomed the ferret into the hole his mongoose had left behind. Even with Coco a more recent addition, I could not imagine him willingly giving the ferret away.

Something else could have happened, however, and Holmes' wordless negative said something had. "Wyatt unexpectedly sickened. Mr. Wood found Coco, barely old enough to leave her mother, running loose a few weeks later and decided to keep her."

"Sounds like good timing for Coco, at any rate." Another piece of jerky earned me another squeak and a smirk from Holmes. "What kind of a bind? Does he need help?"

"Only a place to leave Coco," was the reply. "Mrs. Barclay—now Devoy—requested his aid as well as Coco's absence, if possible. You are aware they have maintained a strong friendship these many years. I have my own theory as to why she would make such a request, but he said we were the first to come to mind. He promised to wire or return by the end of the week."

I hoped he did not hurry. I would enjoy the animal's presence, even if Holmes did not.

And Coco seemed to like it here. She placed one paw on my shoe to sniff my leg before resuming her search of the kitchen. Socialized or no, any mongoose I had seen acted as if the food it saw would be the last food it ever saw. They ate anything and everything, and I, for one, did not feel like making a gift of the entire cut of beef we had set aside for supper tonight. We would have to secure any food in the house.

"I already did."

Holmes' comment broke into my thoughts. I glanced up to find him standing near the table, mischief clear in his gaze. He knew I hated when he answered my thoughts.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"

His twitched grin turned into a barked laugh, but he evidently decided to ignore my mostly feigned irritation. "I stopped at the library on the way through town. Someone donated a collection of books on Indian wildlife, including one about mongooses. I put the food away and showed Coco the backyard as soon as we arrived. She has spent the last few hours alternating between the few toys Mr. Wood sent with her and searching the kitchen for treats. Much like the Irregulars," he added wryly.

The comparison sparked my own chuckle. "Yes, very much so. I have told you that a pet is like having a permanently young child. Come on, Coco. Let's leave the kitchen alone for a while."

Holmes clearly did not expect her to obey, but a quiet noise in the back of my throat caught her attention. She trotted behind me almost to my armchair before pouncing on a nearby toy. Holmes' coming question disappeared beneath my laugh.

"Is that a rubber rat?"

"It is." A gesture indicated two more shapes against the far wall. "She also has a lizard and a small bird, but Mr. Wood said she prefers the snake."

The snake? Amusement abruptly died as I quickly scanned the room, but I saw nothing that looked like one of those revolting tentacles. Had Coco left it behind some piece of furniture?

"It is in her carrier," he said before I could gain my feet. I would not do that.

Tension drained from my shoulders. Right. Of course he would not do that. He knew my opinion on snakes. Bad enough the vile ropes occasionally found their way inside, I would not have reacted well finding even a rubber serpent unexpectedly. Shooting a toy would have been a touch embarrassing.

An expected serpent, however, and one I knew was not real, was a different matter. "You can give it to her if you like." He raised an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged. "I hate snakes, not rubber toys. I know it's rubber now, and I'll see it bounce off the ground. Snakes don't bounce." A faintly vindictive grin escaped. "Not to mention, we're giving the 'snake' to the animal known to kill snakes. If it was ever alive, it would not last long in Coco's presence."

He quickly turned away to hide an escaping smile. One long arm retrieved the toy from behind his chair to toss across the open floor.

Rubber snakes did indeed bounce, which I found oddly amusing and Coco found endlessly entertaining. She pounced with another squeak and proceeded to "kill" it halfway across the room. Her bite-and-shake attack strategy more than once sent the rubber flying through the air.

"I think I would agree with Wood." He tore his attention from the animal to look at me and so missed a particularly energetic attack. "She most definitely likes the snake the best. We should let her explore the garden later."

He immediately knew what I meant. "She does not need to attack every snake in the garden."

"Why not? It would keep them from reaching the house. Let her clear a hundred-yard radius of any pest she can find, and you will have a very happy mongoose."

"And an angry former soldier," he added. "What will you do if she gets hurt?"

"She's a mongoose, Holmes. A grass snake will not hurt her. They can take down a cobra and walk away. That dead mouse I saw outside was probably her breakfast."

Consternation appeared as he looked between me and the creature growling at her rubber prey. "What mouse?"

"By the front door. Only the head was identifiable. I suppose you lost track of her for a few minutes?"

He nodded grudgingly. "Mr. Wood said he let her hunt for her food, but he also mentioned a fear that she would wander off. I intended to give her the leavings of our meals."

"Which she will happily take, but mongooses are extremely energetic." The snake left the ground again. "Case in point. We will never be able to keep her out of trouble if we do not give her an acceptable outlet for that energy. How well were the Irregulars able to sit down and hold still after days of being snowed in? Especially the young ones?"

He pulled a face at the memory. The honest answer would be not at all. I had found myself mediating several such confrontations.

"Treat Coco like a four-year-old non-verbal Irregular," I suggested, "that has been trapped inside for over a week before drinking a full cup of coffee. One of us can make the rat run away from her later, and sometime early afternoon we can let her explore the garden. She will not sleep tonight if we do not tire her out during the day."

A quiet harrumph said he had not thought a young mongoose that much work. He gave no indication of regretting her presence, however, for which I was grateful. Aside from not wanting the sole responsibility of keeping track of Coco, this would be much more fun if we both helped.

And both watched for trouble. Holmes lunged from his chair when Coco discovered the pipe he had let fall off the desk, but I simply used my cane to launch her nearby rubber lizard, laughing heartily when she overshot the landing and turned a full summersault. This would be fun no matter what. Perhaps I could use this to convince him to get a pet.

Or not. He resumed his seat, growling at the tooth marks on the stem of his pipe. Either way, at least one of us would thoroughly enjoy the next few days.


Holmes taking care of a mongoose. I don't know about you, but I find that a very amusing mental image. Hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to review! :) Thanks to those who did so last chapter

Corynutz: 4am is WAY too long to be awake. what are you, nocturnal? lol, in all seriousness, that's quite a compliment. thank you, and I'm glad you like the story that much :)

Fireguardian22: yeah, me too, lol