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Hello world, it's me: Watsoncat again!
So much has happened since I last typed… I feel a little dizzy. Gray-cat burglar is dead! I'll be right back.
Much better. I went to get a snack for a moment, hope you don't mind!
Maybe I should just try and start at the beginning for a moment… then I can get my thoughts in order. One night Sher-cat was sitting at his window perch as per usual and I was asleep on the couch. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor and Sher-cat was eagerly staring at me from where I had been sleeping on the couch. He'd pushed me off.
"I need your help again." He said. "Open the door."
It was almost two in the morning and I was groggy so I refused at first, but Sher-cat jumped on top of me and threatened to sit on me if I didn't do as he said. He can be a bit bossy.
Naturally I followed him out onto the street and since he didn't seem to care I decided to help him with whatever he was doing. I was still sleepy but helping Sher-cat in the past had been fun, so I resolutely decided to help him from that point on with anything he got involved with.
I wish that sounded cooler than it looks and I feel a little bit naïve, but he's my friend. On the streets cats don't really have friends so much as they have 'temporary tentative allies' but there is still a saying among cats that friends follow friends into traffic. I'm not sure if that translates for humans the same way, but basically a good cat will follow a friend anywhere.
Just outside our building we ran into Lestrade again. His long gray fur was wet and tangled and he dragged it along the concrete like a mop, shuffling rather sulkily.
"What's up?" Sher-cat said.
"Strangest death I've ever seen: a cat was burned to death on an open empty street. We've had the Scent Cats hunting all over the body and the area, but there were no traces of an accelerant like gas nor matches or anything. There's orange powder everywhere and the cat's tail is missing."
"Was he a Manx?" I asked, remembering a chance meeting of a breed of cat that is born without tails.
"No, we've already identified the cat. He's a local stray from this area known as Ghost. And he HAD a tail."
"Show us the crime scene." Sher-cat said, his ears twitching and betraying his great excitement. I had known him long enough to know he was happiest when he was trying to solve some kind of puzzle. Today might have been Christmas for him.
I had hardened myself for seeing the body, but it was still a shock to see a cat lying on the ground as though it were sleeping and knowing it was never going to wake up. There were long swirls of orange powder up and down the trash-covered alley where he had died and they stood out like rays of sunlight against the black night sky.
It was an even worse shock to have recognized the cat. It was the gray cat that had broken into our home to steal some paper two days ago. I couldn't tell from the face but under the charred fur I saw a long jagged scar that he had taken from a human with a knife long ago.
"Sher…" I started, but he motioned for silence. He slunk around the body like a predator ready to eat its prey. He was looking at everything with his inquisitive eagle eyes.
Finally he turned to us and said. "The orange powder is used to seal fireworks. Some were probably strapped to his tail. He ran up and down the alley as they went off. But the burns weren't what killed him."
I crept up to the dead cat that had pleaded with me so pitifully on that night, feeling infinitely sad that he was gone, and in such a terrible way. I looked to his open mouth with his tongue lolled out and had an idea. I sniffed his mouth and aside from the scent of roasted flesh (which I will not describe) I didn't smell any chemicals or anything. Next I checked his toes and saw that they were very well kept for a stray, and also that the pink paw pads had turned blue.
"He probably died of shock; either that or cardiomyopathy." I said.
Both Sher-cat and Lestrade gave me the strangest looks for a long time. It was as though they had just noticed I was even there.
"Cardio-who-now?" Danderson said from where he was crouched over the body.
"His toes are blue, which indicates some sort of failure of the heart. It's unlikely that he had a heart attack, but it's possible he might have had a condition that he didn't know about. It's much more likely that he died of shock, since the fireworks…"
"So you're a doctor now?" Lestrade said, shooting me a hard stare, like he didn't believe me.
"Perfect!" Sher-cat exclaimed. "Could you take a look at something Doctor Watsoncat?"
He ushered me over to where the cat's tail had been and together we looked up the burnt butt of another cat. I can't make this stuff up, it really happened; no matter how many times I wish that it hadn't.
"What am I looking at Sher-cat?" I asked.
"The ligature marks from where the tail had been severed of course." He snapped annoyed. "What do you see?"
I looked. "Jagged, not at all straight… It changes from here to here…I…Goodness! They're teeth marks!"
"Exactly!" Sher-cat said.
"So the tail was gnawed off…by a cat?" I asked, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach.
"Yes! Then it was dragged over here…" Sher-cat followed a trail of black ash that cut through the swirls of orange dust. It led into the open street. Sher-cat followed it with his nose to the ground like a bloodhound, never once looking up to or acknowledging traffic.
He found a sewer grate and cried at us "I've found it! It's down here!"
"Sherlockcat! Get out of traffic!" Lestrade bellowed as a car honked its horn missing Sher-cat by inches. He muttered to himself "I swear, one day we're going to be scraping him off the road."
Sher-cat returned to us happily, looking proud. "The sewer grate is filled with water and the fireworks, burnt as they are, float!"
"Great. You found the tail. What does that tell us?" The other cat (I still haven't learned her name yet) snapped angrily.
"I'm not sure." He said, still bouncing with excitement. "Some cat took the time to gnaw off his tail and throw it away."
"Maybe he did it for revenge or a warning to other cats?" Lestrade offered.
"Maybe. Let's go home." He said suddenly turning to me.
The sun was starting to rise and I didn't argue but I was surprised at how quickly he could change his mind.
"Wait, the case isn't done yet." Danderson complained.
"Is so." Said Sher-cat. "Ghost ran into a small group of humans, probably two or three who grabbed him and strapped fireworks to his tail. As they burned him he ran in terror trying to escape the flames and died of fright. Case closed."
"He's right. We'd better move before the road kill truck comes for him."
"Oh, and Lestrade… Stay out of the fish tank." Sher-cat said grinning.
"I'll do what I want, thanks!" Lestrade said, his fur bristling defensively.
"How did you know he'd been in a fish tank?" I asked as we ambled home.
"He has a fish tank at home. If he went from his home, to the Yard, to the scene of the crime and then to get us and back there is no place where he could have gotten so wet. I know he has an affinity for fish which borders on obsession, therefore it was easy to make the connection."
"You make it sound so simple." I said
"It is simple." He said "Obvious and simple."
I felt somewhat offended at this, it sounded like an insult and the way he said it sounded insulting. I waited a moment to see if he would follow it up with something, but he didn't even react. I guess he really just thought it was obvious and he spoke his mind. He does that a lot, and sometimes what he says is hurtful, but he only says it to be mean about half of the time. I think.
"What's not so simple is why. Why the tail?" he said mostly to himself. "Could it have been a punishment for failing to steal the paper? A warning to other cats who were thinking about betraying some criminal master thief?"
"Aren't you being a bit hasty?" I remarked. "There's no evidence of a 'master thief' or anything. It could still just be an accident; cruel humans with too much time and a poor cat in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Yes, but isn't it suspicious that the cat would be horrified by humans, avoiding them at all costs, yet would stumble in front of not one, but two or more? And that he would brave a flat with two humans for some abstract piece of paper?"
"You have a point." I said meekly.
"And isn't it odd that the cat he said employed him matches the description of the cat who you met in the Baskerville's yard?" he said hopping excitedly.
"So do you." I pointed out. "He just said a 'black cat'; there must be dozens of black cats in the city!"
"Something's afoot! I know it!" he assured me.
We made it back into the apartment before John woke up, but Sherlock caught us sneaking in. He seemed intrigued, but he didn't mention us to John. He's been watching us more closely. I hope he never catches me typing all this… He does all sorts of weird experiments in the kitchen and I don't want to be his next subject. I have a vivid image in my mind of him dissecting my brain which I would like to avoid at all costs. I'm going to act like a dumb cat until he loses interest again. Sher-cat told me that it shouldn't be too hard for me… Hey!
Sher-cat has been sitting in the window for several hours now. I don't think that he's completely through with Ghost's death, but he won't tell me what he's thinking. He actually gets pretty mad when I ask.
Just got back. Just barely got back alive. I wish I could have one adventure with Sher-cat that didn't end in a fight or something.
I took a nap and woke up to John loudly complaining that when he went out to the store Sher-cat snuck out behind him. He didn't notice until he saw the black cat bolting down the street. Apparently he'd been looking for him the whole time and he hadn't gone to the store. Sherlock was really upset about John not getting the milk, but I was worrying about Sher-cat. Who knows what could happen to him on the streets alone?
I decided to see if I could track him down. I walked up to the door, but before I could jump up and twist the knob I felt I needed to assure my humans that I'd be alright.
"Goodbye guys." I meowed. "I'll bring Sher-cat home soon."
"Look, even HE'S worried about your cat." John said pointing at me.
"The cat will come back when it gets hungry" Sherlock said.
"If your cat is anything like you that might as well be never." He pointed out.
"Don't wait up." I called over my shoulder as the door swung open. I left them chatting comfortably like that.
Humans are a tad bit oblivious, but sometimes it really feels like they understand what I'm saying. Sometimes.
The first place I decided to try looking was the area where Ghost had died. I had a hunch that he was still investigating the death and probably trying to follow up his 'master thief' theory with some evidence.
I got lost and ended up at the restaurant Sher-cat had shown me on our first adventure. My stomach lead the way and the rest of me followed. After a quick snack I tried to remember where the crime happened and I wandered around until I saw something familiar, after that it was pretty easy to find my way there. I could still smell some burnt fur.
I crept along the edge of buildings cloaked in shadows, doing my best to avoid the harsh orange lights from the street lamps just in case the humans who killed Ghost were still around. It was hard to move forward at all with the knowledge that I was purposefully wandering into an area where the humans were cat killers. The only thing that kept me moving was the chilling thought that my friend could be the next burnt body the Yard investigates.
I tried to push the image away, but it stuck to me and kept me moving when rational thought told me to turn around and run.
There is a cool trick that cat's do to mark their territory called scenting. I feel I must describe it for humans, because there really is no other way they can know it. It's one of those cat things that just don't translate for humans. Basically scenting is when cats rub up against buildings and things to mark their territory by activating scent glands on our skin, especially in our face, foreheads and tails. Basically if a cat rubs up against a tree, that cat is saying: "This is my tree and I've been here." And every other cat can smell that and either challenge it with a scent of their own, or respect it and move on.
As I clung to the buildings, I began to smell something familiar. The closer I came to the site of the murder the stronger, and therefore fresher it became. It took me a few minutes to realize that I had been following Sher-cat's scent and that I recognized it from his markings in the apartment. He'd been clinging to the sides of buildings like I'd taught him to do and had probably rubbed off his scent by accident. At least I was sure I was going in the right direction.
As I came up upon the alleyway I saw a human juvenile sitting on the steps outside a building, hunched over like a deformed human, hiding from the light. It was hard to make out exactly how big or small the human was when he slouched over, and I had an irrational fear that he was some sort of freak and that he would suddenly uncurl his body and have a terrible hump and disproportionately large arms like an ape and a horrible face that looked as though it had been mangled by something. Alone in the shadows and frightened I shuddered.
I jumped behind the stairs at the house that sat across from where the juvenile was sitting and watched him tremble slightly. I say juvenile because he was clearly too large to be a child, but not quite as large as the humans I was used to. He moved slightly and I peered out from behind the concrete stairs watching him. I couldn't see Sher-cat anywhere, though I could tell he had to be there somewhere. I wondered if he was hiding like I was, only better.
Suddenly the door to house I was right in front of burst open with a flood of light and I ducked behind the concrete pillar just in time to avoid another human running down the stairs jabbering excitedly.
"I found some more Cecil."
"NICE Cory, I've got the tape right here."
The human that was hunched over sat up and to my horror Sher-cat was wrapped up in his arms, kicking and squirming, trying to get free. The human had grabbed Sher-cat's hind legs and front legs in his two enormous hands and he squeezed them together while Sher flipped around on his lap like a hooked fish, yowling plaintively.
The other human (Cory I guess) held two blue-and-white striped cylinders in his hands, and I made an intuitive leap that those were fireworks and that the two humans that had Sher-cat were the ones that killed Ghost. Luckily enough I was right.
The human Cory grabbed a roll of duct tape (not DUCK tape, Sher-cat says) with one of his hands, dropping the fireworks into the lap of the human named Cecil where they rolled against Sher-cat who began thrashing more desperately. For a moment he looked around, seeking any means of help or escape and I caught a real flicker of fear in those usually cold eyes. He didn't seem to see me in the shadows and that was important for me. If I was going to help him, AND escape with my life I would need to surprise both humans.
I crept a little bit closer, ducking into the alleyway where Ghost lay just hours earlier. I knew that Sher-cat would likely be put in the alley to run as well, but hopefully I could think of a plan before they set him on fire.
I watched the shadows at my feet, making sure I never stepped outside of them and into the light and with the darkness on my side I was able to creep right behind the stairs where the two humans were preparing to torture him to death.
I swallowed the last of my worries and concerns and let my instinct take over again, maintaining just enough conscious thought to control my actions, and not enough to frighten me stiff and motionless.
I looked up into the swollen, bloated white face of Cory the human. It was garishly pale in the orange glow and twisted in a cruel expression of delight, with a thin, sharp mouth and dry, cracked lips which were visited by his thick red tongue making them shiny and slimy. He had black soulless eyes that would have suited a dog better than a man, devoid of thought and feeling. Looking up into that human, John with his soft warm caressing hands and bowl of food was a distant memory.
I saw him pick up Sher-cats tail and rub it with his stubby, grimy fingers. His dark eyes took on a malicious glint as he stroked the tail twice, pulling it out as Sher-cat tried to pull it closer to him and away from the human. The human took the tape and tore off a long strip with a ripping noise that was shattering against to the quiet of the night. My time was close.
I prepared to launch myself right at Cory's face, but then I remembered I was supposed to be trying to save Sher-cat and I readjusted myself to attacking the hands of Cecil, his captor.
"Can we do another after this Cor?" Cecil asked, his voice dripping with thinly veiled excitement.
"Naw, these're the last ones my dad bought me. I'm broke till the end of the month."
"Shame." He said holding Sher-cat out, upside down and complaining loudly.
I saw my chance to attack, but I forced myself to wait. Cory wrapped a bit of tape around the base of Sher-cat's tail and I didn't like attacking when so many human hands were in one place at the same time. I didn't want to be snatched up and tied to the end of the other firework, which would have been no help at all. I watched patiently for Cory the human to reach down and grab for the fireworks before I launched my attack.
Screaming, I lunged out of the shadows with my claws and fangs bared and I drove them all down unto the unprotected bare arm of Cecil the human. Cecil jerked his arm wildly around, dropping Sher-cat and making to beat me with his free hand, but I used the inertia from his thrashing to launch myself down onto the side walk.
"Run Sher, RUN!" I yelled, already kicking my feet as fast as they would go, but Sher-cat needed no more convincing to get out of there. In a flash he was ahead of me and moving further away, just a blue-black streak on the side walk.
For a moment I heard the colossal footsteps of the two boys behind us, swearing angrily as they sought to regain their lost victim and that sent a cold chill through my heart that threatened to paralyze me. But after Sher-cat and I rounded a few corners we couldn't hear them at all anymore. Nonetheless Sher-cat didn't stop until we were almost back at out building.
When he finally did slow down to a halt, he was so out of breath that it took him several seconds to say anything. I was even worse since I hardly ever exercise.
"Well…huff, puff, huff… That was an unexpected …huff, puff… delay, huff..."
"Unexpected delay?" I cried. "You almost died! Are you crazy?"
We both found it impossible to answer for several minutes until we had completely caught our breath.
"I made a bit of an error, but it was enlightening nevertheless!" He claimed proudly.
"What on earth could you possibly have learned that was worth dying for?" I asked incredulously.
"I was hoping to trace Ghost's employer by asking around and seeing if I could link him from the point of his death back to when he was assigned to burgle our flat, but it appears my inquiries lead me in the wrong direction."
"That's not a good enough reason." I growled. "You could have died. You should have seen John when he came back from searching for you! He was gone for hours! You've probably worried him sick!"
Sher-cat became very quiet for a moment and I couldn't see his expression.
"… I'm glad you came…when you did." he said almost grudgingly.
"That's not a 'thank you'." I complained, but he ignored me as we walked back to the flat side by side.
"You'd better make it up to John at least." I warned him as we approached the flat. He, still silently, ignored me.
When I opened the door to the flat John had gone to bed, but Sherlock was still awake and smoking. He watched us amusedly as we meandered in, disheveled, worn and tired.
"We're back!" I said.
"He's a human. He doesn't understand you." Sher-cat scolded me.
"Welcome back boys." Sherlock said flipping a lit cigarette in between his fingers. "I'll bet you've had fun."
"Did you miss us?" I asked.
"John missed you." He said abstractly.
"It's uncanny that he can assume what to say, but he's still just saying things randomly. He's not listening to you at all." Sher-cat insisted.
"I know." I said. "Maybe that's why I like talking to them, because I know no one's listening."
Sherlock came over and yanked the tape off of Sher-cat's tail. It was really stuck to the fur and he yelped in surprise and pain before darting to his window sill to stare at the sleeping city sulkily. Sherlock stared at the tape for a while and I wondered what, if anything, he could see.
Sher-cat ate a bunch this morning, since we'd skipped dinner last night and he seems to be in good spirits. John was ecstatic to see us both back in the apartment in the morning and Sher-cat made up with him by letting John pet him. Sher-cat hates being touched and John was really impressed with how well he handled being petted for the first time. I laughed at his grouchy face while John was petting him.
He hasn't given up on the theory that something deeper was behind ghost's death, though he won't talk about it, as expected. I asked him if he thought it was a 'master thief' and he won't say. He won't say anything other than he's thinking about it, which tells me only that it must be interesting for him.
In other news: John got the milk the next day. The Yard dropped by and we told them where the killers lived and how to avoid them and they promised to post a bulletin to all cats. I thought I was getting a tummy rub from Sherlock the other day, but he was just rolling me off of his table and I fell to the floor. I kind of hit my head and that kind of ripped my hurt ear a little. I got blood on the couch and John got mad. I found a roach in my food dish and I killed it.
Just another normal few days.
Sincerely yours,
Watsoncat