For A Culprit
Dr. Watson had long since tired of hearing the violin. Being a loyal dog, I whined sympathetically and rested my head on his shoe as he finished reading the newspaper. (Humans love it when they're in their favorite chairs, and a dog sits by their feet. I don't know what's so special about it, but it sometimes makes them happy enough to give me extra table scraps.)
Mr. Holmes finally set down the violin and began pacing a bit as he smoked his pipe. He had been deep in thought for the past two hours.
I crossed the room to where the cat was pretending to nap.
"Our humans need help," I silently mouthed.
She stood and stretched before giving a terse nod. With that, Felicia disappeared out the pet door. Curious to know what she was planning, I followed.
"We need Basil," she whispered. "Humans never pay attention to rodents. Basil will solve the case and lead you to the felon. I will motion for the mouse to follow me to the crime scene. As the humans will pay him no heed, he'll be practically invisible. He can investigate and overhear plans without the guilty party noticing. When he finds the culprit, he will let you know, and you must lead Mr. Holmes to the criminal."
I nodded and returned inside. Before another full hour had passed, I saw a mouse dart across the floor. Basil lightly tapped my paw and pointed to the door. Barking as if an intruder were outside, I raced out the pet door, knowing my humans would follow shortly. Basil had just enough time to hold a scarf under my nose before Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson stepped through the door.
Now that I had a scent to follow, I was able to track. Felicia may be able to outwit criminals more easily than I can, but I'm still better at finding them.
I had the misfortune of accidentally cornering the felon in an alley. A trapped delinquent usually fights like an army of demons, and this man proved to be no exception. I never saw what he picked up, but I suddenly noticed something large and heavy approaching my head at an alarming speed. The next thing I knew, I was lying on my side on the ground. Strangely enough, my head didn't hurt at all. My shoulder did though, but only slightly. I came to the conclusion that something had shoved me out of the way hard enough to knock me over so the object would miss my head. Someone had just saved me from a migraine, or possibly even a concussion…or worse!
Before I had time to sort it out, I heard my humans coming. Mr. Holmes quickly identified the man as the fiend he had been pursuing.
"Get that cat away from me!" the lawbreaker demanded as he glared at his ankles. "I'm allergic!"
I felt sheepish. Felicia was the world's most irritating cat, but she was also my best friend and most trusted associated, and I hadn't even noticed she was there. I should have known, even if I hadn't seen her slink silently among the shadows. Ever since she reformed, she had never abandoned me during a case, even when I purposely tried to solve mysteries without her assistance.
Felicia continued to rub against the felon's ankles, causing him to sneeze even more. In a fit of irritation, he began cursing. With all the commotion, I wasn't surprised when two constables arrived. When Mr. Holmes explained to them that he had finally met up with the culprit, they led the criminal away in irons.
Mr. Holmes lit his pipe. "Do you not find it rather intriguing, Watson, that we happened upon this insidious fiend by chance?"
"It's almost as if someone solved the case for us!" Dr. Watson joked.
Little he knew! Even as the humans spoke, Basil hid nearby, silently reveling in the fact that he had assisted Mr. Holmes with a case. I pitied Dawson and Mrs. Judson; there would be no living with Basil for the next three months, perhaps even longer.
The great human detective continued to smoke. "In your professional medical opinion, Watson, do you believe Mrs. Hudson's feline companion to be unscathed? If you observe, one of her paws appears to have swollen to some extent. Is the slight trace of discoloration reasonable cause for concern?"
That was the moment I understood. Seeing me, a dog known for detective work, the criminal had thrown the first object he found, a discarded vase, hoping to deter me so he could escape before Mr. Holmes arrived. To get me out of harm's way, Felicia had used her quick reflexes, which cats are renowned for having, to push me aside as hard as she could, hard enough to get me out of the path of the vase that came to rest on one of her front paws.
I hoped her paw was alright, but I couldn't tell, and she wasn't about to allow the humans to get close enough to examine it. (She doesn't allow anyone to get too close to her paws. I believe her reason for that has something to do with how Ratigan treated her when she was a kitten.)
The cat acted nonchalant enough. She didn't even limp. (That's one of the things I can't stand about Felicia. I've never seen her equal when it comes to faking an injury for the sake of undercover work, but when she truly is hurt, she never shows the slightest sign of discomfort. As a result, you can never tell how badly she's been harmed. Again, I believe this has something to do with the years she spent with Ratigan.)
When we returned to our flat, Dr. Watson brought Felicia several prawns and some warm milk with cream. As she enjoyed her tasty treat, he started scratching behind her ears and speaking words of comfort. Being as careful as possible, he gently took her paw in his hand. The cat's ears flattened, and she made one of those horrible noises in her throat that cats only use when angry, but she didn't hiss or scratch.
It turned out that luck was with the cat. The bones in her paw were still in tact, and if she rested as much as possible for a few days, she would be fine.
Felicia had no trouble staying off her feet. Mrs. Hudson carried her practically everywhere for the next fortnight. In fact, the cat was even allowed to sleep on furniture, including the pillow on Mrs. Hudson's bed. All three humans offered her salmon, extra table scraps of pâté de foie gras and filet mignon, even more prawns, and any other delicacies they could find.
"How strange it is!" she told me later. "I was only hit by the corner of the vase. The ground itself took the brunt of the blow. I can't understand why the humans are making such a fuss over it. Why, when I was a kitten, Ratigan used to…" Hearing Big Ben toll in the distance, Felicia smiled. "What difference does it make what he did to me? All that matters now is what I did to him!"
That night, a mouse was foolish enough to wander into a trap that Mr. Holmes had set. Although the sleuth did not believe we had an infestation of rodents, he had consented to set the traps in order to get any peace from Mrs. Hudson. Being far more clever than most people, Mr. Holmes had hidden the trap well and made it far more appealing to rodents than the typical trap, which holds only a small piece of bait and nothing more.
Fortunately for the mouse, it was the kind of trap that catches rodents alive rather than breaking their necks. Unfortunately, this mouse was a notorious thief in the rodent world, and Basil noticed him before Mr. Holmes had the chance to check the traps. Basil summoned Mouseland Yard, who stood before the trap as the great mouse detective managed to release the bandit.
"I find this rather amusing," Felicia remarked when I told her the story. "Basil helped Mr. Holmes solve a case, and Mr. Holmes has unwittingly returned the favor."