I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.
"Let It Go, It's Happytown"
Chapter One: Back To Happytown
By: Gabriel LaVedier
Police presence was spotty, by and large, in Happytown. They went there, and had been trained in greater numbers for that purpose, but it was still a special duty assignment, and often restricted. The city seldom cared to push their presence too hard unless there was a special circumstance. They already looked bad enough, having abandoned the place for so long. Having an anemic response to a real problem was too much. They just got especially selective about what constituted a real problem.
Some officers were put through the Happytown beat as a form of punishment, or as part of a grim but necessary normal cycle. With Nick in the mix it could have been either one. Bogo always had a low-level hate-on for Nick and his unrepentant huckster ways. An inveterate con-mammal, he ran harmless, small-scale stuff on his fellow officers. Though never Clawhauser, out of respect for his harmlessness, and the fact that he was Bogo's brother-in-law, and thus protected.
Judy, being connected to Nick in so many ways, was often roped into the consequences of Nick's actions. It was a continual element of frustration, but one that she didn't begrudge. Nick was just Nick. She grew up in a challenging family, so dealing with one troublesome fox was a breeze.
"I realize walking the Happytown beat is boring, but family questions?" Judy asked, looking aside at her husband with a quirk of her brow. "You've heard me go on and on about family multiple times. You just met all of them again."
"Right, met them at a wedding, at two weddings. It made your family's status even more unique. You had Weaselton there, the Duke of Bootleg at a fancy country wedding surrounded by down-home bunnies and a bunch of very important mammals. I'm amazed he wasn't slipping your Hopps family silverware into his pockets," Nick said with a sly and casual look.
"Oh he knows better than that. He's my cousin now, and that means a lot. I'll throw him through a literal old-fashioned wringer washing machine if he gets too far out of line," Judy said with a soft growl and a stamp of her paws. "Besides, you know why he won't. You saw why. That nice Muffin is really good for him."
"What a name. Is that for real? That's can't be real."
Judy shrugged. "Rich mammals. They're very unique. I mean, names are just names. You met Ermintrude Dreyson at the weddings. Deputy Buck's girlfriend Hayma. Sheriff Beatrix's boyfriend Rimpssie. Her parents just decided she needed a name that stood out in her fancy life."
"Rich and fancy... he really pulled off a good one. I never knew he had the skill to pull off a sugar mamma number. That takes a high-level gigolo skill that takes years to master, like Finnick's got," Nick noted.
"Ugh, Nick..." Judy shook her head with a slight smile on her lips. "I don't need to know how Finnick gets his jollies or dates. Besides, that's not what this is. Muffin told me very directly she picked him out, she made the choice to be with him. She bought him out from under Mr. Big. Now he's just kind of an accidental socialite. I think half the fun of that idea is imagining him all dressed up and looking completely lost surrounded by rich, fancy mammals."
"I've heard that living well is the best revenge. Sometimes, someone living well is the best punishment, and the most entertaining for the ones watching," Nick said with a deep chuckle.
"Oh be nice. He's family now. That means he's related to you, too," Judy teased.
"By marriage, and by marriage, and then by distance," Nick sniffed.
"Oh Jake's way closer than you think. Not the same litter but near the same generation. But you probably feel closer to Kenny's wife."
"Now, now, don't just assume all foxes get along. You saw how all that went. She was nice enough but just full of snark and sass. Is that how they're raising vixens these days?"
Judy rolled her eyes and gave a sidelong glance to Nick. "Right, right, foxes never act sassy and snarky. No normal fox would ever act like that..."
"Are you calling me normal?" Nick asked, blowing a kiss to Judy and popping his brows to her. "I thought I was something special."
"Oh, you're especially annoying, that's true," Judy said with a small laugh. "But really... what were you trying to say about my family?"
"You're not a normal family. You're actually accepting of a lot of strange relationships," Nick noted.
Judy halted their walk to allow for a hard hug around Nick's midsection. "You mean like you and me? A fox and a rabbit... that doesn't happen all that often. Don't spread it around, but weasels and rabbits are always getting together, just not usually in marriage. It's nice to see a wedding come out of it. Princess makes a great addition to the family, even if Jake took her name."
"With how much you talked about your family influence I figured they just absorbed everyone into their enormous, fluffy mass, like a sponge," Nick mused, slowly rubbing his chin.
Judy softly elbowed Nick in the gut and grinned up at him. "A Hopps is a Hopps, no matter what. Jake's still family, and Princess is too. She kept her name to keep the name on the general store. We love keeping things the same in the Tri-Burrows. We love that sense of history."
Nick looked around at the sagging buildings, chipped brick and cracked concrete papered in decaying advertisements. Telephone lines bristled with an armored coating of rusting metal and the sidewalks buckled, sometimes cast atilt by the resurgence of nature poking weedy tufts from beneath. "Yeah, Carrots... you and I have a very different idea about what history means..."
Judy really took a look around and winced at what met her eye. Pulped paper and overgrown lots, trash in the gutters and a wan pall across the buildings. "You know... we've built new things too. We got rid of the old, backward folks and made it better out there. We don't just look at the past..."
"You don't have to apologize for where you come from, Carrots. It's no prize, but this was my home. I do go on and on about it, but it was still where I came up," Nick said with a soft sigh, taking another slow look around. "I don't have a lot of good memories here, but I had some. And that's what matters."
Judy casually glanced around, checking on the street signs as they passed. "What's with the streets? This isn't the usual patrol route. I mean, if I remember the layout we'll swing through all the important patrol areas eventually, but this isn't the path Bogo assigned."
Nick was silent and thoughtful for a long while as they walked down the street. "Something happened here. The city just barely thought it was worth noticing. Mousawitz noticed, but didn't care enough to lean on Bogo. Bogo assigned a few officers to look but he's tied up by Mousawitz. I owe a guy something and... well, you'll see."
They continued to walk along in silence until they got to a section of Happytown that looked to consist of small, narrow buildings packed close to each other, with signs announcing businesses while the upper levels looked like housing spaces. Amid the collection of chiropractic clinics, massage parlors and For Rent signs one shingle stood out with a bold color choice. A dark crimson sign formed of stacked right triangles with a white crescent moon and sun inside them. Also written in there was an incomprehensible script, with a helpful translation below. "Sherlock" Gyag, Private Investigator.
"A PI? That's pretty old-fashioned, Nick," Judy noted as she tried to make heads or tails of the sign's writing. "I realize we're not quite in a fully integrated time period yet, but... we're cops, and we're here. Happytown doesn't need to lean on PIs for justice anymore."
"It's not about what is or isn't happening where, or about some political thing. I told you, Carrots. I owe this guy something, and this is a debt I don't mind settling," Nick explained, holding the front door open for Judy, then walking in behind her.
The first thing to hit the pair was the smell. There was a sickly-sweet scent in the air, with a thick, heavy undertone of smoke. It was vaguely like the Mystic Springs Oasis, but the notes in the scent profile were more complex and rich, filling Nick and Judy's senses.
The light in the cramped office was low, provided by dull light bulbs in torch-shaped wall sconces. The front windows were heavily smoked, allowing in only dim, slanted shafts of light. The floor was covered by a well-worn but nice-looking elaborately designed large rug filled with exotic figures and motifs. The walls were covered in numerous exotic decorations and photographs of a well-put-together yak with various figures, including other yaks. The interior space was separated by a wall and a small, frosted glass door marked Personal. Beside the door was a small desk, behind which sat an ermine in her full winter coat, casually filing her nails.
"Oh my... I've never been around one before, is this what a smoker's place is like?" Judy asked.
"It's not tobacco. M. Gyag is a very big proponent of incense, and had many family heirloom incense burners and personal, family blends of preferred varieties for different moods," the ermine responded, with a very slight French accent.
"Well, you're new. It's summer and you're white all over. Did he just yank you out of Tundratown?" Nick asked.
The ermine rolled her eyes and huffed softly, continuing to file her claws. "I have a genetic condition. I was born white and never changed for any season. I'm not albino, I'm not leucistic, and I'm not fresh from the freezer. I was raised here, daughter of immigrants, same as M. Gyag. Now, do you have an appointment or some message for him?"
"Tell him Nick Wilde is here, to pay off," Nick said, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling out a manilla folder and a page from the newspaper.
The ermine pressed a rather old speaker box, a crackle filling the room. "M. Gyag, visitors for you. One of them says he is Nick Wilde, here to... pay you or something similar."
The door opened a very short time later, releasing a puff of sweetly-scented smoke and the long, tall figure of the detective of the place, apparently Sherlock. Like other yaks his mop of fur looked like a haystack, but he had controlled it to a decent degree, his small eyes actually visible in front. On his head was a gray hat, a sort of canoe-shaped thing settled between his horns. He also had a long, checkered coat in brown and red, which covered the rest of his body by and large. His horns were carefully rounded, and carefully polished, looking perfectly preserved without cracks or chips.
Sherlock initially looked somewhat confused, but on seeing Nick and Judy his eyes went wide and staring. "No, Nicholas! No! I don't care what it is, I don't care what kind of payoff you think I can get from this! No! I'm legit and level, all the way this time! I have my license, I keep it up, and I do my job well. I don't need this kind of thing. I've done some things, and you know just what I did for you, but not this! I refuse to impersonate the police!" He peered hard at Judy, leaning in closer to her. "You even got a bunny to be a fake of that heroine cop! Nicholas, I've tried to be good to you, but no. This is going too far. You get out of here and I promise I'll forget I ever saw you like this."
"And hi to you, too, Sherlock. Nice that you think so much of me that you think I'd be running a hustle about impersonating the police," Nick said with an eye-roll and a smile. "Don't worry about it, it's not what you think. Don't you watch the news? I mean, you recognized Carrots here."
"I listen to the radio, and read the paper, sometimes. I like to eat you know," Sherlock replied, snorting softly. "If it's happening outside of Happytown it has nothing to do with me. I was raised here, I live here, and I deliver justice here. It's what your folk call a bailiwick. I knew about her because I couldn't ignore it. But don't try telling me you're a cop now, too. I know you, Nicholas. I know you too well to believe that."
Nick flicked his badge and smiled at the light ping of metal. "Real as it gets. You can call Precinct One. I feel a little let down. You... didn't hear about anything?'
"You left Happytown. Your own life is on your head. As my venerable master Bajja used to say, when we leave the peak, no matter if in a valley or other height, that place we left is void of us, save for echoes," Sherlock sagely said. "What echoes do you bring me, Nicholas?"
Nick gave a warm, friendly smile. "Well, you met Judy here, you know I joined the ZPD. And... I married Judy. It was a short engagement, she was completely into me and begged- oof!"
Judy shook her head and elbowed Nick in the midsection. "Try to hold back the old Nick. Can you do that? He's right, we're married now, happened a little after I joined the ZPD."
"Congratulations, flic," the ermine said, never looking up from her claws. "If what M. Gyag has said just now is true this is a welcome and strange change."
"Speaking of change, she's new," Nick gasped, getting his breath back slowly. "Says she has a genetic condition and grew up here in Happytown. I don't remember anyone like her when I was grifting my way around here."
"There are thousands of flowers in this plain we call Happytown, I doubt you have seen them all. You didn't spend much time here anyhow. You broke away and ran your schemes on the outside folks as soon as you could. You just wanted to get out..."
"I needed money. But I... couldn't just take bucks from all the folks here. I know they don't have the bucks. I lived here too. Born and bred, Happytown native," Nick said, somewhat defensively.
"We are all equal here, M. Wilde. We are all nothings, except to ourselves and our fellow wretches," the ermine secretary said with a dark tone.
"Mlle. LaBelle, that's not helpful. It... has a certain truth, but not helpful," Sherlock said with a shake of his head. "I never knew what to think of you, Nicholas. Good and bad merged together, yin and yang. You could have been a wonderful student."
"That was your thing, not mine. I had to earn those bucks, prove what a sly fox I was. They wanted it, I gave it to them," Nick casually said.
"Yes... so you did..." Sherlock slowly said.
Judy broke the tension by going up to the ermine and offering a hand for a shake. "Judy Wilde-Hopps, ZPD."
"A pleasure Mme. Wilde-Hopps. Hermione LaBelle. Secretary, and detective understudy," Hermione said with a bright smile.
"Understudy?" Nick asked with a quirk of his brow.
"Her word. The term matters less than the activity. She can call it anything she wants so long as she learns from me and retains the information," Sherlock explained.
"Working with a mustelid seems like a great thing. My brother just married his co-worker. She's a least weasel that's the daughter of the owner of the place they work in," Judy happily said.
"Oh, petit belette. Who owns a place. Where in this terrible city will a weasel own a company?" Hermione asked.
"Well... they're back home, in Bunnyburrow," Judy explained, feeling oddly self-conscious.
"They have such power there? Predators have companies in... the country places?"
"It's complicated, and has a lot to do with... who's... a native... th-the Weaselton family has been there for generations. B-but we have immigrants too! The Sheriff is Suomi, a reindeer. That's a very important elected position," Judy stammered, increasingly uncomfortable.
"Don't trouble yourself. Mlle. LaBelle is fond of these kinds of political and social comments, short things that serve to make clients uncomfortable because it amuses her. She knows I'll allow it," Sherlock said with a slight frown.
"Fire me if it's wrong. But these folk must confront the dark corners they never explore, to learn more about themselves. Would such a thing be so terrible, M. Gyag?"
"Is your name really Sherlock?" Judy asked, having gotten her nerve back.
"That's kind of abrupt, Carrots. And kind of unnecessary. That's what I always called him, it's what he's always used," Nick said.
"There were quotation marks outside. And his last name leads me to believe he gave himself a name that fit in better. And naming himself after one of the most famous literary detectives can't hurt his reputation," Judy explained.
"Clever. The police might have some use in Happytown," Sherlock said. "My parents named me Shalva. But even so simple a name makes teachers and friends confused. Sherlock was near enough, and I did enjoy his stories. I may have influenced my destiny, one my venerable master Bajja already influenced. Was there ever another path?"
"Forgive M. Gyag. His philosophy is very constant. It's part of his nature," Hermione explained.
"Yeah, that's Sherlock," Nick said with a chuckle. "But, we've gone a little off topic. Sherlock, you did right by me, all my life, or as much as it overlapped. The only prey that treated me with any respect in this trash fire of a location."
"Only what you deserved. As Mlle. LaBelle said, we are all equal here. I knew there was more for you out there. You truly proved that, with your lovely wife and new job. I don't need your bucks or any kind of material. It was only what was right."
Nick pushed the folder and newspaper into Sherlock's hooves, still smiling. "I didn't deserve it, not with the stuff I pulled back then. I pay my debts, no matter how old. This is something that not only pays, but... this involves you. This is home. This is Happytown."
Sherlock took the folder and newspaper, looking down at them with some confusion. "I told you I know what happens in Happytown."
"Ask for Officer Wulfberg, tell him Nick and Judy sent you. He might be the only one there, if anyone is. Maybe there's no need to mention that, but it can't hurt," Nick said turning toward the door. "I promise it's something that you can do for Happytown."
"I... he never said anything, just that he had a debt to pay. This sounds... questionable. It's Nick, you know how that is," Judy said with a laugh. "But I do hope it's something that helps. I really do..." She scampered to Nick's side and joined him as he walked out the door.
Sherlock and Hermione were left, confused and silent. "Well, M. Gyag... it would be rude not to read what he has given..."
"Right, right..." Sherlock looked at the newspaper clipping and went wide-eyed. A look into the folder showed him mimeographed papers, bearing the ZPD seal. "Miss LaBelle, this might not be worth any pay, but this is something. This is all about the heart of Happytown."
"What is it, M. Gyag?"
Sherlock laid out the paper and the folder. It was a small article about the death of Cheery Charlie, the simple notice of suicide. The folder showed preliminary reports about anomalies. The designation of suicide had a margin note that read Questionable. A memo from Chief Bogo tersely stated his hooves were tied, no matter how it looked, Mousawitz didn't care about Charlie. "I knew he didn't end it. Hermione, get ready for a case. We're going to save Charlie's reputation."
Author's Notes
The Sign outside Sherlock's Office- A takeoff of the Nepalese flag. It seemed appropriate.
Sherlock and Hermione- I'm an unashamed fan of the French cartoon series Sherlock Yack. It makes for a good base to craft a modern noir detective.
Hermione's speech- She's a French immigrant but speaks English extremely well. She only uses French for some situations, and most especially when adding titles. For anyone not aware or surprised: M.- Monsieur; Mme.- Madame; Mlle.- Mademoiselle; C.- Chevalier, something she might not use much, but it would be used for someone of particularly high and powerful rank if she wants emphasis or perhaps to make light of them.
Flic- French slang for a cop. It's as casual as it seems but not disrespectful necessarily. In context she's being sincere.