July 4 - Wasteful

 Title: Wasteful

Author: Pompey

Universe: The Great Mouse Detective (movie-verse)

Rating: G

Warnings: kind of a spoiler for the movie?

Word count: 225

Summary: How/why did Ratigan get a cat to work for him?

Prompt: July 4 - He had it coming. Today's entry should be from the POV from either a suspect or the actual culprit.

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Felicia watched as Ratigan gloated to the two mice tied up in the snap-trap. His death machine seemed a terrible waste of two tasty morsels (particularly the larger one wearing stripes) but she stood still while Ratigan’s mice in uniform to climb onto her back.

She obeyed Ratigan’s orders – whether it was consuming an unwanted minion or transporting half a dozen necessary ones – without question. Her failure to comply resulted in his failure to provide her daily ration of a large, whole fish. She could, of course, eat Ratigan himself but that would put a permanent end to her rations altogether . . . and then it would be back to hunting and prowling and starving on the streets with no time to attend to the condition of her coat and no lavender ribbons to adorn her fur. Working for a rodent was the price she’d pay to avoid that life again, though she never deigned to speak to him in public. She had her little bit of pride, after all.

When the last mouse was sitting on her, Ratigan dismissed them all with a simple wave of his hand. Felicia obediently made her way to Buckingham Palace and put the two mice out of her mind. As long as the fish continued, it was nothing to her if Ratigan was wasteful with good food.

July 5 - Bee Aware

Title: Bee Aware

Author: Pompey

Universe: BBC (during Hiatus)

Rating: G

Warnings: distinct lack of resolution

Word count: 400

Summary: John receives a mysterious gift. He’s not sure what to make of it.

Prompt: July 5 - The list of five. Include a list of five items in your work today

A/N: My items are the pulse-ox, stethoscope, hand sanitizer, envelope gluer, and . . . it.

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John had just finished a quick bite of lunch and was headed back when he saw it from his office doorway. It was perched in the middle of his desk next to his pulse-ox and stethoscope. His little bottle of hand sanitizer and his envelope gluing stick had been arranged to form makeshift columns on either side of it.

“It” was a bee the size of his thumb, made of yellow felt embroidered with black, with white felt wings glued to its back and two black bead eyes that seemed to stare back at him.

It was ridiculous to be upset by a stupid bit of fabric, John told himself firmly, but between his army days and having been roommate to Sherlock Holmes, he couldn’t keep his nerves from jangling.

“Mary,” he said sharpishly to his girlfriend coming up behind him, “do you know anything about this?”

She peered past him and snickered slightly. “Cute.”

“Do you know who did this?” John persisted, trying to keep his fear-born anger in check.

“Well, the bee came from your last patient, the laceration one. Said she forgot to give it to you before you left the room. But all I did was leave it on your desk for you.” With that, Mary gave him a quick peck on the cheek and slipped away.

John turned back to the bee. His last patient had been his fifth acute injury of the day (one rather deep but short laceration to the left hand, two simple strains, one second-degree sprain, and one budgie bite.) A woman in her early fifties, medium build, brown hair and dark eyes.

John sat at his desk and pulled up the woman’s file again. Essie Scott. It was an unfamiliar name but the woman’s face had been vaguely familiar.

Later that night, when he had more time to think everything over, certain thoughts surfaced. He had known her face. She had been one of Sherlock’s Irregulars from before he . . . from before. Was it a coincidence that she had been at his clinic? The timing was suspicious, with next week being the one year anniversary of Sherlock’s . . . fall.

But why would she want to give him a felt bee, for heaven’s sake?  What did it mean? And who arranged his desk like that, and why?

And did it have anything to do with Sherlock?