Hm... only one review for the last chapter. *pout* But it was a good one! Thanks. ^^

Warning: Cat sex in this one. (You asked for it. xp) I think I should up the rating to be safe. I mean... it's not people, but still. It's anthropomorphic animals. So, yeah.

Big Game

The Blind Baboon part 2

[Weeks ago]

"A job very well done, Kudu," Jim congratulated the hyena matriarch. "The clans scored over two hundred baboon tails."

Kudu bowed her head graciously, but she wore a proud smile. "Thank you, professor. It's an honor."

"Indeed. But before the feast begins..." Jim drew himself up and looked out over the little crowd of animals who had shown up for the presentation—most of them probably hoping for leftovers. "There are a couple of hyenas who did not play the game strictly as it was laid out."

Kudu's eyes widened and she looked around nervously.

"Not your clan, my dear," Jim clarified, "but some of the ones working with you for the sake of the game... they stole tails off the kills of other creatures, and that simply cannot be tolerated. Out on the plain, it's every predator for himself. But here, in a controlled game in my dominion, there is to be no cheating! No stealing!"

Jim saw a couple of hyenas on the fringe of the group cringing back and avoiding the questioning looks of their fellows. He leaned toward Sebastian. "You see them?"

"Yes, sir."

"Take their tails."

The tiger leaped forward with a snarl to chill the blood. The guilty hyenas turned to run but their clan mates knew where their duty lay and tripped them up. Sebastian completed his grizzly job quickly. Then the cheaters were allowed to run for the hills.

"Don't come back!" Jim shouted after them. "Those two will never be welcome in my borders. See that no one offers them help of any kind."

"Never welcome!" the other hyenas chorused. A couple of young ones started playing with the discarded tails.

Jim smiled. Good little subjects. When Sebastian returned he looked up into the beautiful striped face smeared with crimson at the corners of his mouth. "Well done," he purred.

Sebastian looked pleased with his own work, his eyes flashing as he caught his breath. "At your service," he said.

Jim turned back to the little crowd. "Let the feast commence! Oh, and please don't eat the chimps—they're here to serve fruit."

A general chuckle went up from everyone except the chimpanzees, who smiled nervously or just ignored the comment.

"It was good to see you in action today," Jim told Sebastian after dinner that night.

"It was nice to get an assignment," Sebastian replied.

"You'll have more to do soon." Jim leaned down to lick some sticky blood off Sebastian's shoulder and felt the tiger's tongue cleaning his ear. He smiled. It was so nice having someone to give him intimate attention without all the brainless chatter or the inconvenience of ordinary social protocol. Although... "Miss Adler will be staying with me tonight, as you know..."

"I'll see that you're not disturbed."

"Thank you. I don't know how I managed without you." The blood was well cleaned away, but Jim went on licking persistently. He moved on to Sebastion's chest. Neither of them spoke.

Then Sebastian began licking Jim's head. Then his neck.

Jim's smile grew. I can't ever let him leave. He's the best help I've ever had. He sat up. "Best send for Miss Adler before I lose appetite for her," he said with facetiously narrowed eyes.

Sebastian made no reply but got up to do as he was told. "I'll be within call, should you need me."

Jim felt a little regretful as Sebastian padded away. But then he went back to his zebra skin to wait for his guest in the fading light.

He was getting quite impatient when she finally arrived. "Good evening, Miss Adler," he said a little stiffly.

"Good evening, Professor," she answered.

Something in her voice sounded off. Jim caught her scent and felt his reproductive organs respond in excitement.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting. I'm afraid there's been a poor oversight on my part. You see... the end of the contest unfortunately coincided with the beginning of my estrus."

She's going to try to back out on me, Jim realized.

"As you know, I don't wish to risk having cubs, and..."

"I don't give a damn about your estrus," he sneered. "You and I made a bargain. You've kept me waiting long enough."

"But... you offered me a place in your territory gaining information through my trade. I can't do that if I have cubs in tow."

"No, probably not. As we're different species though, there may well be no cubs. If there are, you can make other arrangements."

"I... I don't see what 'arrangements' I could make."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Give them away. Drown them. Eat them. It's not my worry. You won't make a fool of me."

She looked shocked at his suggestions at first. Then she glanced furtively about, as if for an escape.

Jim watched her intently, ready to call Sebastian to cut her off if necessary. But then her muscles relaxed and she dipped her head submissively.

"Very well."

A smile replaced his stern look. He moved toward her and they circled slowly, taking in each other's scent. In spite of the undesirable circumstances, the jaguar's hormones caused her to look hungrily at him. She crept onto the zebra skin and crouched invitingly.

Jim mounted her slowly, easing into her slick warmth. He leaned his head down to nip the back of her neck and began to pump back and forth. It's been too long, he realized. He hadn't had a mate since before Sebastian came. That wasn't terribly long; he normally tried to mate a couple of times a month, but over the last week his sexual appetite had grown at an unusual rate. Perhaps it was the anticipation of having a jaguar all to himself... but something about that burnt orange hide broken up by black bars and fringed in white...

Irene snarled at him and he only jumped back just in time to avoid her razor-sharp teeth and claws. He laughed in excitement. "Close one there," he said, smiling at her. She faced him and he circled, trying to get around behind her again. He had barely begun, but he could tell her reputation was well deserved.

She was very good at dodging him, and Jim felt a mixture of frustration and pleasure in chasing her. But before he could get too discouraged, she coyly went down on the ground again, crawling away and looking back at him with irresistible lust. He wasted no time snatching up the opportunity. This time he gripped the nape of her neck firmly and thrust harder. She gave a low growl of warning, but that just made him want her more. He quickened his pace and managed to ejaculate with a rather unmanly sound of ecstasy before she twisted out from under him, this time just grazing his foreleg with one claw.

The pain only added to his arousal, as did her wild, amazonian growls. Oh yes, she's earned this reputation well.

On the path below, Sebastian kept a careful vigil, listening to the wanton sounds of the coupling cats. Sometimes it was hard to tell which voice belonged to which. Irene seemed to have a deep voice which was very attractive. When he was so aroused, Jim's voice seemed to go up in pitch. Sebastian couldn't help grinning when he heard something between a growl and a squeak that he knew was the sound of his master's climax. It was going to be a long night.

[Present]

"The blood on the rock?" Sherlock prompted.

"Wasn't Van Coon's," Dimmock admitted. "Wasn't even hyena."

"There! You see, your investigation will go much faster if you accept what I say instead of arguing!"

John kept his mouth shut.

"I handed you a murder inquiry," Sherlock went on. "Let me investigate this wild dog death. I'm certain it wasn't natural."

Dimmock obviously hated his current situation, but he had to relent. He let Sherlock look over the scene of the wild dog's fall, and then showed him the small den where it had lived.

"This is strange," Sherlock said immediately when they reached the den. "Wild dogs live in large packs. This one lived alone."

"Could you tell anything from the death site?" asked John.

"Plenty. He landed squarely on his back. Anyone who feels himself falling will instinctively begin to twist in the air, trying to land feet first. With such a long drop, he'd have had plenty of time to do so. He was killed first, then dropped. We're dealing with a killer who can climb."

Dimmock frowned. "You're not serious..."

"It's how he got into the bank—probably a cat-type. He got a good run up the hill, digging his claws in, scraped his way up the wall and clung to the window ledge."

"And then I suppose he just floated inside."

"He lifted himself by the front paws and sprang onto the ledge. Extremely agile. Before he left he sanded the window ledge down so his claw marks wouldn't be seen. When he went to kill Van Coon he lay in wait for him, probably in a niche in the cave wall. He struck him on the head, dragged him to the cave mouth, started the rock slide and then used his climbing skills again to get to the top of the rock pile and roll one bloodied stone down inside before sealing the entrance."

"All by himself?"

"He may well not be working alone. Particularly since I think it's a rather smallish cat-type. Anything as large as a leopard would probably have ripped the window ledge off the wall. Furthermore, the victims think they're safe in caves. Ergo, they think this opponent can be deterred in a defensible position. Small predator."

"But his agility makes up for his size?" asked John.

Sherlock nodded. "Precisely." He looked around the cave. "I need to find out what connects these two animals."

"Van Coon had a couple of bags... a water bag and..."

Sherlock spun in place. "Water. Where's the nearest water source?"

"There's a spring to the east," said Dimmock.

Sherlock stepped out of the cave again and followed the faint path in the weathered grass toward the little ground-fed spring. He studied the paw marks carefully.

"Sherlock," John said suddenly.

He looked up and saw his friend pointing at the opposite side of the spring. Following with his eyes, Sherlock made out two deliberately formed markings in the mud.

[A few days earlier]

"Nice vantage point from this ledge," Jason commented as Jim surveyed his new surroundings. "I had your zebra pelt brought up so you'll be comfortable. And there's a nice hollow here in case of bad weather—practically a little cave. There's a stream at the foot of the hill, and if that runs dry the marsh is just a few miles north. The marsh is fed by underground springs, so there's water year-round."

Jim nodded in satisfaction. "I think it will do. What do you think, Sebastian?"

The tiger looked the site over carefully. There was only one easy path to reach the ledge, and hardly any creatures would have a chance of reaching it any other way. It should be easy to keep the leopard safe here. "I agree; it will do." He crouched slightly and let his weapons harness slide off with a light clatter. Then he began arranging the weapons in the rock hollow: hunting knife, Lionpaw pistol, Tigerpaw rifle. The rifle was his pride and joy. He had gone through quite a bit of trouble to acquire it. Often, when Jim didn't need him, he would spend extra time cleaning it or polishing the stock.

"We've helped Miss Adler to establish a territory to the south, where the acacia trees come up to the foothills," Jason went on. "She sends you her regards."

Jim yawned. "I'll be more interested when she sends me useful information," he muttered.

"You have an appointment with your Asiatic contact this evening. Would you like dinner before or after?"

"Mm... after. it'll give me an appetite. Any news on the cheetah?"

"Not since yesterday, sir. But he's being closely observed."

"Well, have him more closely observed. I want to know his preferred prey, if he's a light sleeper, if he's shagging his ocelot friend, if he dislikes getting his paws muddy. Details."

"Yes, sir. I'll have the spies increase their efforts."

"Good. That's all for now."

"You've taken a strong interest in this cheetah," Sebastian observed as the secretary bird glided off the ledge. "One might almost call it an obsession."

"He was Hope's downfall. He's got to have some brains, which is more than can be said for a lot of the creatures around here."

John went over the information with Sherlock again and again.

"Killer goes in through the window and leaves the cypher," Sherlock said. "Van Coon comes to the bank in the wee hours and panics. Goes home where he thinks he can defend himself. Killer is lying in wait, Van Coon Dies early morning."

"The killer learns where Lucas goes for water," John continued, "leaves the symbol where he knows it'll be seen, Lucas goes home..."

"Late that night, he dies too."

John was completely mystified by the series of events. "Why did they die, Sherlock?"

"Only the cypher can tell us," Sherlock answered.

He doesn't know, John concluded silently. At least I'm not far behind him on this one.

Sherlock headed out of the cave and John followed.

"Everyone knows some codes, whether they realize it or not," Sherlock said, perhaps more to himself than to John.

John answered anyway. "Sure; I learned Morse in the army..."

"Not just that, though. When you lived in the rain forest, you left your scent and claw marks to tell other ocelots where your territory was. You'd see the sign of a jaguar and know to keep well away."

"True..."

"And now that the lions are institutionalizing a new economy, symbols will be used more than ever."

"And... where are we going?"

"I need some advice."

John raised a spotted eyebrow. "Sorry, what?"

"I'm not saying it again. You heard me."

"But you need advice..."

"On vandalism, yes. Need to speak to an expert."

John followed Sherlock to a flat, dusty area near a watering hole where a bat-eared fox was busily scratching in the ground. He seemed unbothered by their presence.

"Part of my new exhibition!" the fox said proudly, lifting a leg to urinate around his creation.

"Fascinating," Sherlock said in a bored tone.

"I call it 'Urban Blood-lust Frenzy!'"

"Catchy," said John.

"I've got two minutes before a Yard-paid jackal comes round that outcrop of rock. Can we do this while I'm working?"

Sherlock scratched the cypher in the ground. "I need to know the author that's been leaving this symbol round the Yard's territory. Do you know it?"

"What's the medium?" the fox asked, pushing John aside to move in for a closer look.

"Yellow clay, or scratched in the mud on the bank of a spring."

"Yellow clay comes from down by the marsh; gobs of it down there."

"What about the symbol?"

"Don't look like a proper language."

"Two predators have been murdered, Raz. Not killed for food, but dispatched for an unknown purpose, and this symbol has something to do with it."

"That's all you've got? I'll ask around, but this ain't much to go on."

"Hey, you!" A voice shouted suddenly. "What you doing there?!"

John saw a pair of jackals coming toward them.

Sherlock quickly scraped his paws over the ground, erasing the symbol he had drawn. Then he took off with his impressive cheetah speed, and Raz darted away in another direction.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the male jackal demanded. "This water hole is a Yard Pride landmark! You can't mark territory here."

"No, no," John said quickly. "I didn't make this sign. I'm just..." he turned to see that the others were gone... and realized that he was standing in the damp patch where Raz had just urinated. "Oh... no."

"Bit enthusiastic, aren't we?" the jackal demanded.

John groaned. How could Sherlock leave me to take the heat like this? He couldn't be bothered explaining... damn it all! He knows I can't run as fast as he can!

"You've been a while," Sherlock commented in his usual bored tone when John got back to the cave.

"Well, you know how it is," John said, barely keeping his anger reduced to sarcasm. "Custody sergeants don't really like to be hurried, do they? Just formalities. Paw prints, a charge sheet, and I've got to be in court on Tuesday."

"What?" Sherlock asked, not sounding the least bit interested. Just filling the space with the question.

"ME, Sherlock! In court. On Tuesday. The lions are giving me an ASBO!"

"Good, fine."

"You can tell your little pal he's welcome to go and own up anytime!"

"This symbol. I still can't place it," Sherlock complained.

Giving up, John went to lie on the water buffalo hide.

"No," Sherlock said, taking real notice of him for the first time and coming over to nudge John back on his feet. "I need you to go to the Yard. They'll have the evidence from Lucas's cave. Need to see if he traveled lately, as Van Coon did; any indication of his movements. We have to find out what connects them. I'll go back to the bank and see about Van Coon's recent activity."

John groaned, but he did as he was told.

Sherlock found some helpful items in Van Coon's office. With their help, and the help of the hyena's civet assistant, he began to piece together where Van Coon had been the day before he died.

"Why would he take his satchel out with him and then not bring anything back to the office?" the assistant wondered aloud. "I didn't think about it at the time..."

"He needed the satchel to transport something elsewhere... probably making a delivery to someone. What kind of a boss was he, Amanda? Appreciative?"

"No..." she said with a nervous laugh. I wouldn't say that. Only things he appreciated came at great cost."

"Like the perfume you're wearing... he got that for you, didn't he?" Without waiting for an answer, Sherlock went on,"When he took his satchel out, did he say where he was going?"

"No... something about southwest, though."

"So, he took made his delivery somewhere southwest of here, assuming he was telling you the truth, and then... Does the Royal Division provide meals for the staff?"

"Yes, but now you mention it, Mr. Van Coon didn't order anything since he got back from his trip."

"Been doing his own hunting," Sherlock concluded. "Or... had someone else doing it for him." He got up. "Got to find out where you went..." he muttered.

Outside the bank, Sherlock trotted southwest along the trail being worn in the long, dry grass. After a while it fanned out into smaller, fainter paths.

"Making some sort of delivery," Sherlock muttered. "And then you'd have to stop and eat... where did you hunt? Somewhere out here..."

He was so intent on observing the potential pray in the area that he nearly tripped over Watson. Without pausing to exchange What-are-you-doing-here's, he said, "Eddy Van Coon brought something here the day before he died... I've pieced together a picture with scraps of information; he took the boat over the Red Sea back to Africa and came south by rail, but beyond that I don't know... somewhere around here, he made a delivery. Somewhere southwest of the bank..."

"That shop over there," John said. He had said Sherlock's name a couple of times, but gotten no response.

"How could you tell?" Sherlock demanded, turning his attention to a stick-and-straw hut in the middle of the valley.

"Lucas made a to-do list. The shop was on the list. I think we may have found our missing connection."

"Oh." It made sense. There were plenty of gazelle frequenting the valley for its grass which stayed greener than most during the dry season. Van Coon might well have caught one of them or scavenged the remains of someone else's kill to satisfy his hunger.

They entered the "Lucky Cat" shop together. It was full of Chinese souvenir-type merchandise and run by a decidedly foreign-looking creature. Noting its similarity in shape to the civet in Van Coon's office, Sherlock determined that this must be a binturong.

"You want buy lucky cat?" the binturong asked in that soft, timid voice so often used to guilt creatures into assisting the unfortunate. Shen held up a gold-colored sitting tiger statue whose exaggeratedly round paw was waving back and forth. Its face had also been stylized to look extra cute, rather than fearsome.

John shook his head and smiled kindly. He and Sherlock looked at the strange items for sale, many of which looked quite useless, and some very old, and some rather like they were intended for human use.

"Sherlock," John said, picking up a... whatever it was... and turning it over. "Look at this label."

Sherlock joined the ocelot and looked. There was the symbol. Just like the one they had seen at the bank and at Lucas's spring.

Hope it's staying interesting enough. Translating into animal culture is a lot of fun. I especially enjoyed writing Raz. xD Please leave a review. ^^