Prompt at the end this time.


"You sure don't want money, Doctor? I still have a little left."

A grubby hand offered me a coin from the pouch in his pocket, but I shook my head. "You keep that and buy yourself something. I told you that I don't charge Irregulars for medical attention."

"Yeah, but—" Patrick looked between me and the small creature now purring in his lap. "A kitten's not an Irregular, Doctor. Irregulars are kids, and doctors have fees."

"She lives in this courtyard, does she not?" He frowned but nodded, watching to see where I was going with this. "Then how is she any less an Irregular than you?"

Confusion slowly faded behind understanding. "I guess you're right. Does that mean I get to keep 'er?"

"Jimmy will want you to keep her out of trouble," I warned, beginning to put my supplies away, "but I do not see why not. The pests that try to eat your food will become her food."

He let out a quiet laugh at the visual. "She's a fierce little cat, isn't she, Doctor? To attack a dog like that?"

"She is, and very brave. She has obviously chosen you as her human. Have you decided her name yet?"

A tilt of his head considered the question as the calico stretched and resettled. The little creature had screamed out of the nearest alley when one of the dogs from Patrick's old home tried to corner him on the street. The canine had tucked its tail and run, a collection of scratches from nose to tail revealing the cat's success, and the cat had followed Patrick back to the courtyard. He had asked someone to fetch me when he found several injuries on the cat's legs and stomach. Considering how terrified the boy was of dogs—of any size—I had been pleasantly surprised to see him so concerned about an animal.

"Think I'll make sure Jimmy doesn't mind me keeping her, first," he decided. "I haven't seen the others with a pet."

"They haven't had a cat in the courtyard for a while," I agreed, "but one of the girls a few years ago had a mouse, and another boy had a dog." He pulled a face but watched the cat instead of voicing his thoughts. "Not every dog is as mean as those fighting dogs, Patrick," I reminded him. "Those dogs were taught to attack and hurt. If you teach them to be nice, they will guard you just as loyally as that cat did today."

He muttered something about "mangy mutts" but made no real answer. Patrick would need some time to learn that not all animals would hurt him. While the dog today might have set that lesson back slightly, the cat had prevented him from sliding too far. He rubbed the little kitten's ears without fear.

"What do you feed a cat?"

"Meat," I answered firmly. My bag snapped shut to let me stand. "And only meat, mind. Cats are what is known as obligate carnivores. The plant products you can eat, like bread, will not help her grow. If she does not catch enough rodents around here, try asking the butcher for scraps."

"That's a good idea. He always has extra stuff he throws away. Will you—"

"A kitten!"

The question broke off as Doris hit her knees beside Patrick, ensuring only that she did not make him uncomfortable before she offered one hand to be sniffed then started rubbing its neck. Tiny purrs enjoyed the attention—and widened Doris' excited smile.

"We haven't had a kitten in ages. What's her name?"

Patrick lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Hadn't picked one, yet. You don't name somethin' you can't keep."

"Why can't you keep her?" Gentle fingers migrated as the purring increased. "She's so pretty!"

"Fierce, too," he added, a touch of pride infusing the word, "for such a small animal. She saved me from a dog today." One finger joined Doris' in scratching the soft ears. "I want to keep her," he admitted softly. "Will your brother mind?"

She shook her head in an enthusiastic negative. "He'll be glad he doesn't have to take care of it. Jimmy was gripin' the other day about havin' rats in the food again. She just needs a name." Doris stared for a long moment, probably noting everything from the animal's friendliness to her multicolored coat. "Her purring is in Harmony. She's warm and snuggly like Cocoa. She's splotchy enough for Patches or Spot."

"She's ferocious as a Tiger," I suggested.

"Sweet enough for Honey," Doris continued with a smile for me. "Bright enough for a Jewel. Orange as a fire's Blaze. Any cat can be a Whiskers."

"Jewel." Patrick's quiet voice cut off the list as one finger stroked that soft back. "I like Jewel."

I did as well, and Doris' sharp nod made three approvals. "A pretty name for a pretty cat. Have you ever seen such bright colors, Doctor?"

"I have not. Her calico pattern is vibrantly rare, Patrick, especially considering the layer of dirt. If you keep an eye out, you might find someone with a more monetary interest in her colors."

One hand reflexively cupped the furry ball. "Like sell her?"

I shook my head. "If you want to," I qualified, "but I meant showing her. There is a small number of feline enthusiasts that register and show cats like many people do the different dog breeds. A few hours a week and a little training could give you a way to earn some money."

"Which would solve that problem we discussed yesterday," Doris added, "though you know we don't expect you to contribute money."

Patrick ducked his head. "I know," he told the cat, "but I can't think of anything else to give. Half the time, the littles don't understand my lessons until one of the bigger boys steps in."

"You'll find something," Doris promised, "and Jewel can help, too. Kittens love to play. We can make a game out of her attacking a dangling string. The littles'll love it."

"So will you," I interjected with a smile. "Don't deny it. You have been planning ways to play with Jewel since the moment you saw her."

"'Course I have." One hand waved the insincere chiding aside. "She's a kitten. Kittens are supposed to play!"

I laughed but finally picked up my bag. Holmes had asked me to be home this evening, and I had a few errands to run before the time he had mentioned.

"Do you need anything else from me?"

"You said she'll get better, right? As long as I change the bandages in a couple of days?"

Patrick glanced between me and the vibrating kitten. The beginnings of a frown clearly announced a lingering worry—which I understood. The last time he had needed medical attention, I had had to lance a nasty infection out of his arm. I quickly put his fear to rest.

"Yes—"

Rather, I tried to put his fear to rest. Commotion carried from the alley to make the rest of my reply completely inaudible, and Holmes barreled through the archway a moment later.

"There you are!" he snapped, striding quickly towards me as if he had searched the entire city, though I noticed the briefest glance ensure neither child showed signs of injury. "Come! The game is afoot!"

Doris' smile of greeting turned far more mischievous. "No," she shot back. "A game is a fun activity, like playing with a kitten. A foot is a unit of measurement. Are you chasing Yarders again, Mr. Holmes?"

The mental image of my friend chasing Lestrade down the street sparked my own hearty laugh, and though he would never admit it, amusement twitched his mouth the same instant. I focused on Patrick to avoid a sharp retort better left unsaid.

"She should be fine," I agreed, gaining another round of amusement at Holmes' irritated impatience. Far more cat-like than he would ever acknowledge, my friend did not appreciate being ignored. "Change the bandages in a couple of days or if they get dirty. She will not accept a bath of any kind, so try to keep her out of the dirt. You will probably have to provide most of her food for the first few days."

"I can do that." He directed the words at the cat again, but the "Thank you" as I turned away carried well enough. Doris waved a goodbye as Jimmy wandered close enough to spot the ball of fur, and most of the other children noticed the kitten before we reached the door. Jewel would find herself the sole object of attention for at least the next hour.

I, however, had a different focus in mind.

"Are you chasing Yarders again?"

He merely scowled, obviously debating catching the waiting cab without me. If this case proved too short to derail his scheming, Doris and I would likely find ourselves the target of some inconvenient prank, but I considered the price worth the ribbing. I had been searching for a good retort to his pet phrase for years.

I would have to ask if she had any others.


Prompt #102. The Lowest and Highest Form of Humour: Use a pun in your entry today.

Hope you enjoyed! And thank you to those who reviewed last chapter. Each one is very much appreciated :)

Fireguardian 22: XD if you haven't read it, you might enjoy checking out All the World's a Stage. Yesterday's chapter was actually something mentioned in passing in that story