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 Two: Hello, Charlie

By: Gabriel LaVedier

"I was not too familiar with M. Spots, but I had met him more than a few times," Hermione said, as she walked with a quick pace, trying to keep up with Sherlock's longer strides. Her task was made more difficult by the rough nature of the sidewalk, and her rather high, strappy stiletto heels. They showed off her basic black fishnet stockings that led up into what was clearly a second-paw dress re-stitched for mustelids, that hung to mid-leg. It was a layered dress, the stretching artfully hidden by alternating thick tiers of coffee-colored fabric and cream-colored fabric, looking for all the world like she was wearing a tiramisu.

"Hard to live in Happytown without meeting Charlie. You know how much I keep to myself and still I met him, spoke with him. His smile... my venerable master Bajja would have been most impressed by how he shrugged off the darkness of his environment to see the best."

"He knew every dark corner, he knew well all the things I told him. And he never stopped smiling. He didn't see my arguments. He didn't see these ugly streets, he saw a future he wanted. I... don't know if he was a fool or a mammal I should have followed like a Convoker on Moondas."

"Even my venerable master warned me against bowing obedience to anyone, him included. But if someone was worthy, they should be listened to. Mr. Spots was certainly worthy of being listened to," Sherlock mused, his pace subtly and naturally slowing down as his hooves clopped along the cement.

Hermione's pace dropped slightly, slowly but enough that she noticed. She looked up at Sherlock, a slight frown creasing her features and beetling her brows. "I am not so helpless that I need you to cater to me. I will be a detective someday, your partner, in fact, M. Gyag. I must walk over this place, as no car will ever be provided. Walk as you will, and I will follow you. If I cannot, I should not be a detective."

"You can make a lot out of me taking it easy with my hoofing, Mlle. LaBelle. I admire how far you can step in one pace," Sherlock said with a sly smile.

"O-ho-ho, M. Gyag. Touche," Hermione replied, laughing softly. "But do not take me for weak or helpless. The stoat, like any stretched weasel, is a tough creature. I will persevere as your understudy, but only if you give me honest tests."

Sherlock slowly brought his pace back up to where it had been, nodding slowly. "Wise words, Mlle. LaBelle. I respect you too much to do anything less but put you to the test, honestly. So, follow along and let's hope we can make something out of this gift Nicholas gave to us."

"To you," Hermione corrected. "What did you do for him to earn you this gift?'

"Nothing all that special which I can recall. Meaning, I think, he feels he owes me for treating him with respect, for being fair to him, not judging his vulpinity against him or his predator nature. I only showed him the respect he truly deserved as a mammal, surviving in his place. I don't deserve special things for being respectful and proper. But if he wants to share bounty with me, well, that's quite good of him and I appreciate his plenty."

"And here I thought you didn't go to Sanctuary. Sounds like you've got some religion in you," Hermione tittered.

"I have... a unique perspective. I find the Peaceground way in harmony with the lessons of my homeland and the teachings of Master Bajja. Our ways are not common in this land, but we don't make much of it."

"I have heard this of yaks and musk oxen and gaurs and snow leopards. How bright they make this city, with these new, ancient, ideas."

"Some tigers, panda and a rare few tanuki too," Sherlock noted. "But most simply go fully to the Peaceground way, and I can respect them. Change is not shameful if it is a choice. This is a new world, a new place and there are many beautiful things here. Yes, even in Happytown."

"You sound like M. Spots. His boundless hope for Happytown..." Hermione looked down at her paws as they chattered along the sidewalk. "M. Gyag?"

"Hermione?"

"If he is gone, do we need to hold hope any longer?"

"Even more than before. Something like hope should never be kept inside one mammal, it should be something all of us have. And now we shoulder the burden he has left for us, to give Happytown the future he wanted," Sherlock asserted.

The two walked on in silence, Hermione keeping pace as best she could.

They made it to the apartment building, noting that there was actually police tape up and a few uniformed officers stood by the entrance. The pair of rhinos looked fairly humorless and stiff, almost seeming to glare down at Sherlock and Hermione as they approached. "Do we approach? No one hired us. Are we doing this for free?"

"For the good of Happytown. For all that others laughed about him now and again, everyone genuinely loved Charlie and found him a good figure to have. Those notes tell me that this was a tragedy, a crime against the true heart of Happytown. We owe it to our home."

"Authorized personnel only, sir," the left rhino brusquely stated, with a huge snort. "Please be on your way, and don't necessitate an official response."

"Perhaps this is not the wisest of ideas," Hermione said. "There are better times, monsieur, better places."

"Here, and now," Sherlock retorted, reaching into his coat to extract his city license. "Sherlock Gyag, duly licensed and bonded Private Investigator. I have information from Nicholas Wilde... Hopps. He wanted me to speak to an Officer Wulfberg."

The right rhino huffed. "Nick. Of course. He would be the one to make things difficult." He motioned into the apartment. "Don't touch anything. Officer Wulfberg is leading the response upstairs, third floor, immediately on the left. This better not be another one of his pranks..."

"It would seem the Nicholas you knew is still the same," Hermione noted as they passed between the huge rhinos.

"Well, he isn't perfect, but he is very good, in so many different senses," Sherlock replied, skipping the elevator in favor of the stairs.

Charlie's former apartment was wide open, small figures visible within, covered head to paw in white outfits, muzzle masks and goggles, examining the scene haphazardly. In front of the door stood what seemed to be a brownish-gray wolf, dressed in a standard ZPD uniform, looking into the apartment and seeming to oversee the small investigators. "Could you... could you try to be a little more professional? You've been trained better than that."

"You expect us to take a lot of our time here?" One of the figures grumbled. "We have better things to do."

"You're part of the ZPD! You take your job seriously!" Louis Wulfberg snapped. "For the love of harmony, a mammal died, have some kind of respect!"

"Relax, capricornball. We're doing what we can in this filth. It's Happytown. Everything's a clue to something," the figure offhandedly remarked, going back to their barely competent searching.

Louis seethed for a moment, then slowly let out a breath, eyes closed, trying to remain calm. On opening them he finally noticed Sherlock and Hermione. "I get that nobody cares but I expected better out of the guys at the door..."

Sherlock took out his license again, showing it off for Louis. "Sherlock Gyag, licensed and bonded city-approved Private Investigator. Nicholas Wilde-Hopps sent me. He gave me some... information. I think he believes you saw it too, something from the medical examiner. I don't think you have objections to him sharing it with me. He knows I care for this place, and cared about Charlie."

Louis looked at the license curiously as Sherlock spoke, realization dawning over his features. "Oh yes... Nick would do something like this. I'm guessing you knew him at some point and did some important service. I can't pay you for this. No one can. I appreciate him trying to help me out with this, and I'm sure you're a perfectly good detective, but... there's not much you can do Mister... Gyag, was it? You'd need an official clearance for this, and I can't offer you that. You'd need to see someone like Chief Bogo. He... is pretty locked down by Mayor Mousawitz, despite how much something like this means to him."

"Mm, as was to be expected of the police. Disinterested flics at the door, disgusting creatures on the scene. We are alone, M. Gyag. Your friend has let you down by accident. Our thanks, C. Wulfberg, for all you have done," Hermione said with a cold contempt.

"Hey! I'm doing my best here! You think I like this? Bogo assigned me to this because he knows I give a single whit! It was me or Nick and he knew better than to make him do it; he'd have done something to Mousawitz by this point and he'd rather not have a political scandal. Just... I don't know what Nick gave you, not entirely, but you're not wrong about what you're thinking..." Louis looked around and then up at Sherlock. "You heard him. You can guess that it matters. You have no idea how much I want to help you."

"I understand very much and Mlle. LaBelle should remember that not everyone outside of Happytown has supreme power. They have their own troubles and can only do as much as their status and position allows," Sherlock said. "You've been kind letting us make the effort."

"And you are too kind, M. Gyag. We deserve more than this, and there is no good to come from being kind when slapped away," Hermione huffed.

"He can't control that. He has a hard enough job, and I know this to be true. I've seen the police harassed and disadvantaged here. Your attitude won't help us, it only keeps things the same. We need a change, Mlle. LaBelle, not stagnation," Sherlock insisted.

"Am I getting between you two?" Louis asked with a smile. "Thought that needed a little lightening up."

"Your attitude is most positive, no wonder Nicholas sent me to speak to you," Sherlock said.

"Our friction is not your concern. We need help, not jokes. If there is a mystery here, let detectives solve it," Hermione insisted.

"I want to, but it can't happen. You really do need to go get something official. Bogo wants it to happen but it just wouldn't be worth it to talk to him. But there are others out there who could help. Now... surely you know who I mean," Louis said, with a knowing nod.

"Perhaps I would have done better to listen to my venerable master Bajja. To know everything within your sphere is masterful, to know important things outside makes a mammal seem more than wise. I know Happytown. I didn't even know Nicholas was married. I know the city is out there but don't know very much about it."

"Fortunately, you pay me enough to keep getting the paper, if only for the small things. What C. Wulfberg is trying not to say is Councilor Seedsworth. But, of course, he cannot tell us this, because the Chief would be forced to punish him once that small-minded rat in the Mayor's office found out," Hermione casually said.

"I'm not saying anything. But certain politicians have a certain amount of understanding when it comes to matters in Happytown and the plight of prey," Louis said, casting his gaze around.

"You're going to make an excellent detective, Mlle. LaBelle. We'll be back, Officer Wulfberg. With official consent to assist the investigation and properly look into this. Charlie didn't kill himself, and we'll vindicate the ones that know it."

"The ones that don't want to know it will hate that you want to force them to look at it differently. You'll have your official papers but good luck using them. But I hope something comes out of this. I really do," Louis sighed.

"But... knowing this doesn't tell us how to arrange a meeting with M. Seedsworth. We may fail before we even start," Hermione mused.

"Officer Wulfberg cannot help, of course, and by that fact, Nicholas and his wife are barred, though he might wish to pull one over on someone to try and help. The Chief himself is the reason, and yet not the reason. So, we will simply go to him," Sherlock simply stated.

"Oh? Is it so simple, Monsieur?"

"Life is complex, because it is a collection of extremely simple processes trying to happen at the same time. You may be right that it won't be easy, but what we ask is simple enough. What could it hurt to try it?"

o o o

"Audacity and arrogance exist on a border so fine that a spider silk thread would fall like a giant timber on the space between," Cecil Seedsworth stated, the formally-dressed lemming standing on top of a table sized for a larger mammal. His whole apartment was a construction made for a creature the size of a wolf, filled with runners, ledges, shelves and buttons of all kinds all around, sized for one Cecil's size. The furniture sized for him looked reasonably stylish, a mix of antiques and fashionable new pieces. The larger pieces looked very much like inexpensive IBEXA furniture, like might be found in a college dorm or first home. On the table near Cecil were three figures in a large enclosure made of mesh. They looked about lemming size, but also showed clear traces of wolf. "I have some perspective on fine gradations. Hero, villain and survivor have very, very narrow borders indeed."

"Councilor Seedsworth, this is incredibly generous of you, sir. I understand your time is valuable, but this is important, too. My home has apparently been attacked, and that cannot be allowed to stand," Sherlock said, sitting with Hermione on a low, plush couch that was slightly large for her and slightly small for him.

"Those copies you got from Wilde... a curious mammal, in my estimation. But apparently he works his manipulation for good, which blurs the lines that are so thin to start. Those copies only deepen my disdain for Mousawitz. I may have thought little to nothing of Lionheart, but he was not obstructionist to the same degree as that wait-and-see do-nothing. Of course they would sweep a problem like this under the rug. We want to renovate Happytown, but not too fast or too loudly. It might upset the skittering fools. I wish I was in the big chair. Things would change, according to the plans I've received from Bogo and a silent partner. There are ways to fix the place and make everyone happy and secure."

"You have strong opinions, M. Seedsworth. But strong opinions in no direction I have seen of those prey that are not immigrants. I could not believe what I read in the paper. I assumed it was some lurid scandal," Hermione noted.

Cecil moved to the trio of children, who were close to him in size. He stroked over the head of one, which looked at him with bleary eyes and cooed happily, stubby tail wagging. "I demanded they put it in the paper, local news and society page. I married Gerhilde without hesitation, because love cannot be erased by the need for survival. A prison chapel isn't ideal, but Division was unacceptable once there was no more need. She and her brother... my brother... came from Happytown. Predators. Immigrants. Wonderful mammals. They served the city, with all their hearts. They did what they thought was best. Lionheart told them it was good, and he had the power. Pawns. But being predator immigrants they were given more punishment than was necessary."

"I can't claim to know what you went through, I'm only an immigrant. But I know what Happytown means to those from it. Your wife would know that defending Happytown makes sense. No matter what it's like, it's our home, and it needs respect before it can be built into something better," Sherlock gently said.

"I do understand, M. Seedsworth. You see I am a predator immigrant. Mostly ignored, but often looked down on. I have... limited faith in any change, because I have lived there all my life, and know those outside seldom care," Hermione sighed.

"You aren't wrong. Most don't, in various positions. Sometimes it's... a slight self-interest. I know that Chief Bogo has no connection to the place, but cares because of a predator. Same as I do. But while his wife is a native of Zootopia, mine is from Happytown. That's why when you told my assistant that you had information about Charlie I knew I needed to hear you out."

"You can help us with this. I know you know nothing about our detective skills, but Nicholas trusted me with this information. He thought I could do something with this. He's a slick sort but his confidence should be enough. A fox such as him... he doesn't give his confidence lightly," Sherlock stated.

Cecil stroked over his children again, looking thoughtful. "I can give you an official dispensation to consult with the police. Mousawitz will raise high holy squeaking when he finds out, if he finds out. But I can defend my decision. Outside consultants are common, someone from the area will understand the local matters, and Chief Bogo will rubber stamp it while repeating my points. No direct collusion, no internal investigation. Commissioner Oliphant won't even bat an eye. Now... you're a private detective, so you must be paid, but you'd be working as a consultant, so your fee would be different. Mousawitz would certainly hold that up, and insist you get nothing until the end of the case. You'd pay everything out of pocket. But I can offer you a certain private fee to keep you going. I want this madness solved, and I want it done with all due focus."

"You care very much indeed. You respect our home, and perhaps something more," Sherlock said.

"I liked Mr. Spots, detective. I respected him as a mammal and as some kind of unofficial glad-pawing executive. Oh, he was no politician, he would never have been elected to the Council once we wised up and made Happytown a full district. But as a symbol, he meant everything," Cecil sighed. "I want you to find enough information to increase the police presence, to push up the conversation about it and find out the truth. Find out for me... for everyone why such a mammal was taken away before his good ideas and gentle guidance could truly affect real, lasting change."

Sherlock and Hermione rose, Sherlock reaching out to offer a hoofed hand to Cecil, who gingerly shook a hoof tip. "Councilor, in the sentiment of my venerable master Bajja, my honor is my only truth. I will be true to you, and make certain the truth of this is revealed, lest the honor of Charlie be forever tainted."

"See you do that, Mr. Gyag. When my wife comes out of her incarceration I want her to find a home that has been changed, for the better. Give her that."

Author's Notes

Capricornball- In case it isn't very clear, this is a pretty cutting and incredibly bigoted and disgusting slur, thrown out as a casual insult from someone feeling very secure in their job. As established in other stories, Louis is a "passing" Division Child, half wolf and half goat, which everyone now knows ever since his parents finally got married in the wake of Gazelle and Judy marrying their predator boyfriends. It attacks his goat side as well as insulting his sense of morality as outdated or worthless. It's related to another insult that came about in our world, "Capra-Corn" which denigrated the works of Frank Capra and movies like them because they had positivity and happy endings.