To Whom it May Concern, a series of unfortunate events fanfic

Urgent. Where are the children? G and I read G's account of fire and have expected their arrival ever since, but have heard nothing.

You will forgive my interference. I recently induced J to take tea with me and discovered she is now terrified ink will leach poisons into the skin. (This is not my fault. I don't know whose fault it is. Additionally, she did not, obviously, use 'leach' in her choice of lectionary.) This means it is very unlikely you will get a direct answer. Anyway, she us as much in the dark as you. I am less so, because an exasperated K reported a run-in with that nitwit banker wherein it emerged the awful man had sent them to O. Obviously this must be corrected, though certain people (you'll know who I mean) would disagree. Even so, I have set J on the case and have high hopes of success.

We are veritably flooded with disasters. That awful play averted (but well reviewed – query; what is the world coming to?) but G has disappeared. And just as the children are due to arrive, too. I am putting it about that G has quit, notwithstanding his involvement being more in films and less in snakes. Anyone who knows anything about it will never believe it anyway, though they might believe that I believe it, and in the meantime it will stop Vexatious Financial Dolts asking probing questions. Personally, I blame O, but as we will shortly be out of the country, suppose this to be a moot point. Still, it may warrant investigation.

Something has gone seriously wrong. Reports indicate M and his party never made The Prospero. Suspect further interference by O. Can you reassign someone else to the vexed case of what befell G?

O's interference amply confirmed. M is deceased, and G likewise. The children are, understandably, overwrought, not that I saw them. Have written a strongly worded letter (well, had K write it and thereafter gentled it mildly) directing the attention of certain bankers towards J as next possible guardian for the children on the strength of, quite frankly, having exhausted other avenues. Expect she and L can manage the situation between them. One hopes.

Chaos. J believed dead, though not by me. The Punctillio has got its teeth into the thing though, or will have by tomorrow if we are not Vastly Feverishly Discreet. Your nitwit banker is obviously no help, though children had wherewithal to weaponize Vicious Familial Disease, so all is not lost yet. Will try and contact them at the house.

Could not reach house Stop Weather Very Frightfully Dangerous Stop Fear children in literal middle of storm Stop Advise Directly Stop L Stop

The fire was quite terrible, I assure you. As terrible as wet socks or the sound of a strangled typewriter ribbon, or possibly the taste of cold soup on a wintery afternoon.

Worse, our efforts at a reunion have been perforce halted. The investigation into the whereabouts of the Baudelaire orphans, however – and indeed, they are orphans – remains ongoing. You will perhaps be relieved to hear that the photograph at D.D. proved vitally important. Our only hope now is that ostensibly mundane crockery (otherwise our source of Vital Feud Dissipation) is even now in safe hands, notwithstanding the confirmed death of its previous safeguard.

Please tell J and others to continue investigation into survivor of other fire.

Received your message by way of Swinburn's Minor Works(query; why is it always Swinburn?) and am now awaiting the deposit of Versatile Fructose Dispensary at the appointed location. If it fails to appear expect word in the usual way.

To hear J. tell it all is not lost. He has located a survivor at M's former home, though obviously Ink et al are long gone. This revelation has necessarily diverted him from the original cause, though everything suggests he means to resume the trail directly.

If I know him the intention will be to draft Q to the cause, particularly in light of the Punctillio article. I do not know why he troubles with L when it would seem G is intent on broadcasting the children's whereabouts to the world. Mind, in lieu of the praiseworthy review of Al Funcoot's latest, perhaps a healthy dose of distain for the editorials section is advisable. Especially as it lead above the fold just yesterday with word that Edward Guest was In. I would blame E, but then, I'm unconvinced she's read even him. She certainly never got to Tolstoy.

Where is L? Not O-turned-L but your L? I ask as a series of Veiled Fragmentary Documents would suggest he absconded with the Vessel For Disaccharides. Is that possible?

Possibly. Then again, possibly not.

My dear sister,

Efforts to further investigate the evolving case of the Baudelaire children have hit a dead end. Evidence suggests that Various Familial Depositories have been exhausted and I am forced to rely upon The Daily Punctillio for intelligence, L being unforthcoming. I do rather better by L (notours, I hasten to add) though I fear this, too, is the means by which O. keeps discovering them. Further examination pending.

Yours, etc,

I read your recent letter with interest if some unease. As you've no doubt noticed, G. suggests in her article that the children are even now at school. Doubtless you'll know the one.

A word from C indicates, incidentally, he much regrets this development and I am forced to conclude the debacle at Paltryville was not his idea. (Probably it was not S's either, given the blow to business that has necessarily ensued.)

R's plan, since you ask, did not come off, and the object in transit lost in the transition. I have told her so by way of Tennyson. (Again; whydo we rely on overwrought Victorians?) Whatever L intended, we are now all in the dark and L probably differently in the dark and not in a position to say. I fear we have been intercepted, but cannot get a clear indication of who by. I have advised R look for it at the upcoming Vaunted Fashionable Do, where almost certainly O. will attempt something, or else I do not know him at all well. This is, of course, entirely possible.

Would you rather overwrought Romantics? I ask as it's probable we will have to change the system anyway. Accordingly, I have eschewed the established pattern and deposited this next to the statue of your least favourite Victorian as of 4 o'clock on the most recent Thursday. If I have not, something has gone grimly wrong and you should launch a search directly.

O. having got to the aforementioned institution before I could there was little in the way of leads. The shack L alluded to was quite overturned, and N gave no indication he meant to do anything about it. (He did indicate an urgent need for both a new violin and new teachers directly. Clearly the former is impossible, but re the latter; Could you be persuaded?)

All of this, obviously, is most regrettable. Still more regrettable for all of us, however, is O's successful abduction of the children. (Not the one I had my eye on, nor the ones L is investigating and I am attempting to recruit; the other two.) Since the last person to be in two places at once was St Ursula (or possibly D, or E, or even F), and since I am not her (or them) I have had to abort attempts to train Q. as discussed.

I would suggest you take over, but if you do investigate the school, then you, too would necessarily face the St Ursula Conundrum. Perhaps R? Assuming, of course that she is amenable and he has stayed in one place. None of the others have, and certainly we would not have done.

I will watch my compendium of Revolutionary writers for confirmation.

Re your absurd proposal, emphatically not. I don't know if you've noticed, but a sizable portion of the writers you allude to make no sense even without code. Except to B, obviously, who isn't here, and to L, who is likewise absent. (I still look, on occasion, for a coded sandwich. There never is one.) As his manuscripts continue, however, I presume him to be, at any rate, not dead. I am trying to make use of the published material in the curriculum. Various Faculty Disasters, not to say mixed results have ensued as N. obviously disapproving. He has not yet said anything outright, however, as this would detract from time slaughtering unsuspecting violins. Speaking of which, I must presently bear witness to another Viol Fraught Desecration. How any of the children survived here as long as they did is, frankly, nothing short of a miracle second only to escaping a busy hotel lobby.

Pending your last letter, I will continue to watch for the Volunteer Favoured Demerara. It does not appear in the auction catalogue, but then, it wouldn't, would it? I tend to think O. cannot have it or we would surely know about it, as someone would be crowing. But there are certainly enough sides to this schism as to preclude ruling out the possibility of your being right. And anyway, what's an elaborate round of encoded pass the parcel if the parcel is not being passed all hands round? It reminds me of that Masque we all attended back in – only altogether less pleasant.

Meanwhile, you are here advised that J.S. has put in a word for the children (not the abductees, nor the survivor but the other ones), putting them nicely back in the city. This puts them proximate to me (at least for the time being) but, as you'll appreciate, overtures are impossible. E. would never stand for it. Whyever did he take up with her, do you think?

P.S. Assuming you have in fact found this in the sixth flowerpot to the right with the lopsided peony display, you should probably know that I have put a contact in T. on the case of Q. I have sent apologies to your brother (not L, obviously, but the other one) but as I am unclear how often you are in contact, I mention it here; it pays, after all, to know things.

I refuse to tackle your last question (last before the postscript in any case) as some stones are better not cast.

In the usual convoluted round L got in contact with our would-be-other-L who said to him that she had had word about the Violently Favoured Dish of Various Frequent Discussions from W. For reasons best known to L (mine, you understand) he mentioned this to C, thinking it a safe channel, who said to E, lacking the gumption to keep quiet and presumably mistaking him for F. E, happily for us had the carelessness to pass the intelligence on to E where his brother could overhear, so that F (and it was F this time) then told D who mentioned it to me at our last meeting. If you can parse that then you are on better form than I am.

Anyway, all that being the case and on the off-chance it's true, I will head north to investigate more fully. Generally where there's smoke there's fire, and I only wonder that G hasn't reported the lot in the Punctillio. The school is a lost cause anyway. N. wants my head on a platter, and I want his, so pending the successful depositing of the new recruits at the requisite place, I'll be on my way. Under the circumstances we must seize whatever opportunity presents itself, and they will be in good hands.

Acting on your instruction I have advised J to look for a red herring through Versatile Forecasting Directive. O. may have it in custody but not even E. could make that one look ordinary in the usual way of things.

Forget the red herring. See below.

But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down
Redeem the time, redeem the dream
The token of the word unheard, unspoken

My dear sister,

If you are reading this you are probably wondering why, as per the urgency of the situation, it is not reaching you via telegram, and the answer is that the Rules (theirs, not ours) make the thing impossible. Also if you are reading this then it has probably all gone wrong and I am dead. But if you are reading it, and not someone else, which would, frankly, be disconcerting in the extreme, then you have successfully dropped off the recruits and have made good on your promise to go north. If you are going north, which is lamentably necessary, exert Vigorously Fastidious Discretion, as almost certainly O. will have gone ahead of you. But if he has, and if you are indeed yourself and not someone else, then you should also know that L is not dead, though probably I am, and that he has also gone ahead of you. Or after you. It may depend on where the children are.

No one else should know this about L, which is why it is Vitally, Ferociously Demanded that it be you who finds this missive in the last of the marmoset warrens as you take the third turn down the fourth unmarked lane. As I understand it (and I may not have done, being otherwise preoccupied), a bad combination of research, a disastrous encounter with a signal-master, and, as ever, our friends in the Punctillio forced L back undercover. He apologises for forgetting the coded sandwich and blames it on a Viscous Frigidaire Disaster. The thing was irreparably broken, or something. Anyway, probably he will tell you all of this himself.

Or possibly not, since no one can know he isn't dead except myself and you, if you are indeed who I believe you to be and reading this letter. That being the case, if you do reach your Viciously Frigid Destination, leave a message as per standard code in the expected place in case of fire. Address it to me, as anything less would let the cat out of the proverbial and hackneyed bag about L. I have told him that you will do this, so L, if he is there, will wait for, or arrive after you and get the message anyway. I almost suggested he leave word for youbut then realised that if O. arrived before you but after L he would realise we nearly had the Vessel For Disaccharides in our grasp and that that would not do at all. This is much better.

Of course, all of that is still some time off. And if, for some reason, I am not dead, I shall await your rightfully Vengeful Furious Diatribe. It would certainly be earned. But probably that will not happen.

All my love.

I have seen the Punctillio. I cannot decide if I believe it or not. On the one hand, O. is almost certainly capable of anything. On the other, yesterday's column by G. suggested J's house collapsed as a result of grammatical error, so you'll appreciate I'm quite at sea. If it is true (about J not the house), find enclosed my deepest sympathies.

I begin to think you were right about the Eagles uneinvolvement, as a Venerated Feline Deity has since exonerated them and suggested in the usual way that one of ours was involved. (L? Could that be possible?) This, of course, would mean that the subsequent plot by E, E, et al to stage a counter-plot has failed. I do hope so.

Keep me abreast of what you uncover.

There is no almost about it. O. is indeed capable of anything.

Regrettably for all of us, G. was – for a change – telling the truth about J. Or so I surmise from my trip to V.F.D.. Even so, my intention is to await confirmation of the fact by way of the usual coded sandwich. Here's hoping he's better about remembering them than L ever was.

I have been able to discern that H. has succeeded in this much at least as the Quagmires have found higher ground. (Also drier, for which I'm sure everyone is grateful.)

I'm sending this to you the old way as a kind of experiment. If you encounter interference in the reception we may yet be able to confirm one way or another what it was that dislocated the Valuable Filigreed Dish en route to me in the first place. J. had a theory but that will keep until we can exchange Vigilant Frugal Discourse, as it wouldn't do to be intercepted here.

P.S. Apologies for disregarding your injunction for a telegram. Some lunatic has cut all the wires and declared them dangerous.

Success. VFD en route to safe place now.

R.,

Have been forced to leave Vessel For Disaccharides at headquarters. The lions should be guarding it but have since been burned to death and anyway were at this juncture well past being on our side. We must instead put our trust in Tolstoy, which E has not read and which I do not think O has heard of, and also L, who appears to be on either my heels or the children. (Probably the children.) If L., have left a particularly convoluted memo as per someone else's instructions.

Volunteer Factual Dispatch
– to Queequeg

And the Found heart stiffens and rejoices
At the lost lilac and the lost ocean voices
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel
For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell
Slows to a crawl

I like the questions – honey?– milk?
And the answers I don't know by heart yet

But let no footstep beat the floor,

Nor dish of wassail mantle warm;
For who would keep an ancient form
Thro' which the spirit breathes no more?

Enclosing Volunteer Factual Dispatch received at –.

Was this you?

Received your letter by way of the manuscript. If you've got this then the bat in question deigned to listen to someone not B, thank goodness. Can confirm room as requested. Curtains are merely bearable, but needs must. Did not, however, send missive to Won Q about our much-coveted confectionary container, as the last I knew it was in the loving arms of assorted scientists, Latinate animals and discontented Russian Princesses, thematic significance thereof. Was that you? If so, I must tell you W complains of Vexedly Frustrating Decoding trying to parse your message. Apparently you ape already oblique poetry entirely too well, and having since suffered reading it, your sister is forced to agree.

I've had no further word from you. Was the VFD received? Intercepted? Have you since died and should I cancel room?

P.S. If the Volunteer Factual Dispatch was not you we have a third party hunting the culinary snark and should be on lookout. We should probably be on lookout anyway.

Eagles interfering. Children at serious risk. Likewise self-sustaining mobile home. See below.

We find ourselves in dire need
Assistance gratefully received

Found. Again. One Virtually Fabled Dish. Small, damp, liable to be snatched. Will attempt to pass it to D at next opportunity, which should be soon, all going well. Meantime, have retrieved Q from S.S. and dispatched him to assist H. You might see to it that he warn Q's siblings to expect the inevitable resurrection. Such things lead to what J once called Vengeful Furious Diatribe. Then again, they may be not at all like J and myself in that regard.

Urgent Stop Send further assistance Stop Eagles outmatch us Stop Wondering if bats sensible idea Stop Please Advise Stop H Stop

Children to be collected this evening, assuming they correctly parse VFD. They will not have been told of you, as per the arrangement. Will take them to the appointed spot but cannot stay intended, as something has come up, or rather, to be more accurate, is in danger of descending that necessitates immediate attention. Obviously this has ramifications for the Volatile Fractious Dextrose ,which cannot now be left amidst unsuspecting picnic things. Anyone might retrieve it. Watch the skies for it instead, and I will do likewise for your signal re Thursday. Apologies and regards as ever,

Volunteer Factual Dispatch

To R from Queequeg

You will gather the self-sustaining mobile home to be a lost cause. I have moved H and the children (his two not our three) to the Q, though I fear it may be a case of leaping precipitously into shark-infested waters. Or at least into unforeseen circumstances. As you will want to know what became of the ever-mobile Vessel For Disacharides I direct you towards a particular cycle of Hughes for the delivery mechanism. I should have thought the last safe place to be obvious, as you will appreciate.

Disaster. Hotel full of Vacillating Fractious Dissenters. Fear worst. Efforts to contact K unsuccessful. Can you do better?

Volunteer Factual Dispatch

To R from Queequeg

We are –

Very unclear what has happened. What should have been Volunteer Factual Dispatch is instead Very Fragmented Document. Cannot be intentional as too unlike K. (Very like W but it was not that kind of fragmented.) Have you heard more? Or perhaps you have more fragments. If so advise best means of combining.

I am writing at great risk to both of us, to which end you will forgive the elaborate means of delivery. In light, however, of recent correspondence with my sister it struck me you might like to know that a certain object found its way to a certain place earlier than Thursday and that I have since retrieved it. Efforts to contact my sister having failed, I have since fed it to an especially slippery salmon and directed it to the last known location of the Q.

You will forgive my not going to you directly, but in light of my presumed death and your oblique involvement it seemed altogether too risky a proposition.

With all due respect,

If indeed it is L – I have not heard a word from anyone on the subject of our Very Favourite Discussion in months. Whatever became of the salmon? Do you have a location? Perhaps a letter from the recipient? I hope you have, because I have not.

You must forgive the long delay in contacting you, but I have only recently pieced together exactly what transpired with the Vessel For Disaccharides. I cannot vouch for the carrier salmon, but think it must have disgorged its contents onto a certain costal shelf just ahead of my sister and the Baudelaires, because the contents of the contents have since come to light in the hills. (This quirk owes to my niece, if you were wondering, who offered it in exchange for a yak ride. This is my fault for being uncommunicative and in no way hers.) I have been unable to confirm whether or not the contents containing the contents, which is to say the object my sister once described as a confectionary container were with it, because I have been unable to find further traces of the Baudelaires, and my niece, as you'll appreciate, can shed no light on the situation, being that she was very young at the time of her stay on the island.

I have since exchanged a yak for the contents of the contents again, and, in the event you were curious, returned it to my niece, who had it from the Baudelaires, who had it from my sister. Perhaps sometime you would care to explain its history and many crosswise exchanges to her? I find I cannot bring myself to do it, and in any case am otherwise engaged with research.

With all due respect,

How K ever put up with such nonsensical obliqueness I don't know. There is absolutely no reason B should. You are both to visit at your soonest convenience for strong tea and Vaguely Faithful Disclosures.

The poetry, it's worth noting, is, of course, the creation of vastly superior minds. They here owe to T.S. Eliot, Carol Ann Duffy and Robert Gray.