From cjnwriter: "Toby cracks the case."


"Watson," Holmes announced in the summer of 18- "This marks the lowest point of my professional career."

One glance at my friend's set face told me that little would dissuade him from this view. Still, given the nature of our client, it seemed gentlemanly to make at least some protest. "The young lady was most grateful for your promise of assistance, Holmes, as was Mrs. Hudson. You know how she dotes upon her niece."

"Hmmph," Holmes said, but did not argue further. It was true that we were both sorely in need of Mrs. Hudson's good graces in light of Holmes' recent case (the maid had broken down in tears at the state of my trousers). "I trust at least that you will not relate this incident to your publishers at The Strand."

"I doubt my readers would be interested," I said, then added innocently, "Besides, the Case of the Child's Escaping Cat lacks a certain romanticism, don't you think?"

Holmes' eyes narrowed. "Watson, sometimes I forget that you have an appallingly pawky sense of humour."

At that very moment, Toby let out an excited bay. Holmes and I increased our pace.

"It could be worse, old fellow," I pointed out with a smile. "Had the beast not left behind its collar while making its escape, there would be nothing from which Toby could have acquired the scent."

By this time, we had reached the large open expanse of Regent's Park. Toby led us along the winding paths until coming to a halt between a tree. My heart sank. Though there were few trees in this area of the park, this specimen was one of the largest, with a tall smooth trunk that would be very difficult to climb. Near the very summit of the tree, almost obscured by the leafy branches, perched the very cat we had come to find. Upon glimpsing Toby, it set up a chorus of fearful hisses and shrieks.

Holmes arched an eyebrow. "Well, old fellow? If we are to return the animal promptly to Mrs. Hudson's niece, you had better start climbing."