Catlock: The Hound of the Baskervilles pt 2

Lestrade led us to an old abandoned house that leaned over the street precariously. It had slim basement windows that were shattered and he slipped through these into the house.

The inside was much bigger than it appeared. We found ourselves in a huge, open dark space with boxes and crates everywhere lit by a few blue lights which dangled over head like glowing balls of string. All through the room cats of every kind were moving, meowing, working, talking and laughing. I was amazed at how many cats there were!

"Welcome newbie, to the official base of the unofficial Yard." Danderson said to me grinning.

"Danderson, don't talk to him, you're stupidity might be contagious." Sher-cat snapped. A ripple of rage crossed Danderson's features, but he suppressed it by quickly beginning to groom himself.

"I have a map on the back table." Lestrade said walking with an air of importance through the basement.

The next thing I knew we were all gathered around the map and Lestrade was marking the murders with a flick of his claw.

"They all centralize around the same area." Sher-cat said once Lestrade had finished. He leaned over and circled the area with his paw. "If you look for dogs in that area, you'll have you're killer. That was almost too simple. Actually I take it back. That WAS too simple. Give me the stuff."

"No way, not yet. You have to earn it." Lestrade said smugly.

Sher-cat lifted his arms in frustration. "What do you want me to do? Catch the beast myself?" then suddenly he raced off towards the broken window. I ran behind him, calling for him to wait but he was muttering to himself and didn't hear me.

I followed behind him and watched in horror as he darted out in front of traffic and in front of people but he didn't stop or falter, nor did he ever run out of my sight.

I on the other hand was a mess. Everything was loud and strange and foreign and trying to kill me. I darted and weaved in between legs and wheels and spokes, narrowly missing the bumper of a large blue car and avoiding the teeth a small white dog by the fur on my tail.

When Sher-cat finally stopped to catch his breath I was so scared and mad that I didn't stop running. I bolted for him and with all of my might I tackled him to the ground.

"You creep you could have died! You could have died!" That was all I could say as I slapped at his face with my open paws, sitting on his stomach and holding him down.

"Don't you care? Don't you think?" I cried exasperated and he tried to squirm under me and get away.

"Get off of me, what is the meaning of this!" He growled.

"You Jerk! You nearly gave me a heart attack and you don't even care! You could have died, like, ten times back there! Don't you ever thing about anything before you…" at this point words failed me and I was overcome by his arrogance and nonchalance.

Is nonchalance the right word? I'm a cat so I'm not certain. It sounds fancy and I've heard it before though. Good gracious, what am I typing about? I'm about to get to the most exciting part!

I was upset that he didn't seem to care that he had almost died and I saw it as arrogance in the face of a large, unforgiving world that revolved around death and the continuing cycle of death. I had seen a lot of things as a stray, most of which I'm not going to disclose, but I learned a valuable lesson from that time: Nature's normal occupation is stillness. The trees and plants are still. Nature will stop at nothing to bring all of life to a screeching halt. To make everything alive still and dead like a tree or a rock.

Sher-cat bit my stomach and I tumbled off of him with one threat "NEVER do that again."
He glared at me. Well, I wouldn't say glared, he looked at me with a weird expression. Sort of amused and angry at the same time.

Suddenly I realized where we were and became horrifically scared. We were somewhere in the area that he had circled: The hunting grounds of the monster-hound.

Sher-cat told me that we were spies and that he wanted me to hang out around windows and doors and look into yards if possible to see if I could find out who had recently gotten a new dog. If I could find a dog that fitted the description, then Sher-cat and I could go back to the Yard, get some assistance and stop his reign of terror.

"What will you be doing." I asked, frightened for our well-being and our lives.

"The exact same thing. You sneak around Maple Street, I'll be on San Juan and together we should be able to come up with something. It'll definitely take less time if we split up."
"Are you sure you're not just trying to ditch me?"

Sher-cat smiled. "No, I honestly value your company and it pains me to part with you for any amount of time. But we answer to a higher calling."

I'm not much of one for detecting sarcasm, but I was almost positive he was using it in that instance.

I'm pretty sure.

Like ninety-nine point nine percent sure.

Probably.

For hours I crept up windows and listened through cracks waiting to hear the horrible blubbering, angry dog on the other side, but there was nothing. I also discovered people live interesting lives. I met a nice cat named Toby who told me his human works with dead bodies. I found it an auspicious meeting considering the circumstances.

There was one room where everyone was singing loudly and off key to each other. I was tempted to join in, but then I remembered I was spying. What kind of spy sings loudly and off key in the middle of a mission?

I climbed to the third story of the building and was beginning to feel really dizzy when I heard a human say that there were no pets allowed in the building anyway. I hurriedly scampered away before she saw me and I got in trouble, since it was clear no dog would be there.

Before I started scaling the next building I read the sign at the front. It said no pets allowed and clearly had a picture of a dog crossed out. I sure wasn't going to find a dog in that building either.

Several buildings later I was hungry and discouraged. I hadn't seen so much as a Pomeranian, much less the monster-hound and I was tired. I wondered if Sher-cat was having more luck. I came to the very end of Maple Street where a single house stood alone. It wasn't the giant buildings with hundreds of humans living in it, it was comparatively rather small. I guessed it could only hold a few humans. It was surrounded by a large gray fence, which had been white sometime in the past, but had become dilapidated and dingy.

I came to a certain part of the fence and I saw a cat's tail wriggle under the fence. Curious, I investigated.

The hole in the fence was easily four or five times larger than me and I could crawl under the fence with relative ease. When I popped up again on the other side I found myself in a large field of dying grass that was attached to the back of the house. I learned now that it's called a yard. Just like the Yard, only different. I wonder why that is?

Towards the house, with was just as gray and old-looking as the fence there were piles of junk stacked everywhere like a large metal ocean of bumpy, uncertain waves. On top of one of these hills of junk a strange black cat cleaned the dirt off of its paws from where it had slipped under the fence.

I suddenly realized I was trespassing and I tried to apologize.

I said: "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry. Do you live here?"

The black cat regarded me silently; too busy cleaning himself to answer immediately. At first I thought he looked a bit like Sher-cat but as I got closer I realized the only thing they had in common was the dark coats. Sher-cat's coat had undertones of blue which reflected indigo in direct sunlight, like a raven's feathers. This cat was just black. Nothing really interesting.

"No."

"If you don't live here, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"Same as you." He said that nicely enough, but I felt as though he were accusing me of something.

"You're trying to find the thing that had been killing cats…right?" he asked.

"That's right!" I exclaimed happily. "Are you with the Yard?"

He didn't answer me, but smiled warmly. I took that for a yes.

"I know how to kill the dog. If you'll step up here I'll show you and you can show your friend." He patted the ground next to himself.

I was excited that I had finally made some headway and I crouched down, preparing to jump onto one of the metal wired boxes and then leap onto the solid metal sheet he was perched on.

I shook my tail as I prepared for launch and with one titanic motion I soared with ease onto the first wired box.

Suddenly though the metal gave way and I fell down into the forest of mesh. I landed hard on the metal floor and something shut with a snap above me I looked up to see that some kind have grate had closed, sealing me inside. I pawed at the grate, but it didn't give way to my urgings at all.

"That's a small animal trap." The cat said jumping off the sheet and onto the top of the crate where he peered down at me, seeming somewhat amused. "A cat is a small animal. It was unlucky for you that the trap was set up in just that way."

"Help me." I asked as he jumped to the ground, flicking his tail in a self-satisfied manner.

"The dog belongs to the Baskervilles. Every day they let him out to play in their yard from five to six-thirty. You'll find that that's the time most of the murders occurred. Of course I doubt that it would matter much to you now"

"Help me." I repeated, suddenly feeling a cold chill rustling my fur.

"If you live, tell Sherlock I'll be in touch." He sauntered over to the fence and started to crawl underneath. I heard him mutter something about dirtying his paws and then he was gone.

"Help me!" I called to where he had been. There was no response.

I cried out, hoping that a cat would pass by, but if the Yard was anything to go by cats would be avoiding this area like they avoid a bucket of water. For several minutes I cried out, hoping someone would hear but the only cat that I knew to be in the area was the creepy kitty and Sher-cat.

Sher-cat was still on San Juan Street and probably far, far away. He couldn't even hear me. I screamed as loud as I could, but for several minutes no one came.

And then I heard it. The sound of something sliding away followed by frenzied eccentric breathing and a low growl like a constant gurgle in the back of the monster's throat.

And then I saw it. It was at least five times my size with a long, ugly face and a scarred black snout which hid long white fangs that it barred for no reason.

I swallowed my cries and choked on a scream. I knew the thing to do now was to be perfectly silent, and hope that he didn't notice me.

I have the worst luck. As soon as that thing was out in the yard it began sniffing the air. Then it started sniffing the ground, and the scent trail led it right to me.

I pressed myself against the back of the cage while the monster-dog growled and snapped at the front, I could feel its hot stinky breath rustling my fur and its drool splattered at my paws.

I screamed, feeling that the last seconds of my life were upon me and the only thing keeping me from being horribly and violently torn to pieces was a few strips of metal and a few inches of empty air.

The dog bashed the cage with its huge brutish head and I fell backwards as the cage tipped over. I felt even more helpless.

Suddenly the metal began to split under the onslaught of the dog and then there was a hole big enough for him to fit his hideous muzzle through, but luckily for me, he could only just fit his muzzle through, he couldn't open his mouth enough to bite.

He opened his mouth as wide as he could and a fat, hot, pink tongue rolled out like a sheet of soft silk and he licked me repeatedly. The horror at being caressed by that slimy tongue is almost more than I can bear to write.

I opened my claws and scratched at his cold, wet nose and he yelped and withdrew his head from the cage. I felt cold and battered, but thankfully alive, though not for long if I didn't make a quick run for it while the dog was dazed.

My instincts kicked in and I found myself bolting across the yard towards the hole in the fence that the creepy-kitty had disappeared through, but the dog had recovered from its initial shock and was right on my tail. I felt its teeth closing in around my fur, and although I was desperate not to die I made a silent prayer that my nine lives were not used in vain.

Then suddenly the dog yelped in pain again and I caught a glimpse over my shoulder of a black cat with blue tinted fur attached to the monster-dog.

"Run Watson, Run!" He cried as the dog turned on him suddenly. "Don't stop or they'll seal you in!"

He didn't have to tell me twice. Instinct brought me out of there faster than a bird can fly. In the next instant I had dove beneath the fence and the entire Yard was outside, holding a large heavy piece of sheet metal.

Lestrade grunted. "Grab ahold of this." And I seized part of the metal."

"Sher-cat! Where are you?" I cried into the hole.

At first I didn't hear his response, but then his frantic and frenzied voice floated over the yard.

"I'm safe! Drop it! Drop it! It's coming!!" He cried.

That was enough for the Yard, the metal dropped and gravity locked it in place, then cats of all kinds were securing it with dirt just in time. The next second a tremendous crashing was heard on the other side of the heavy metal plate and the whole fence trembled under the strain and I could hear the horrible snarling from the other side of the fence.

"Sher-cat, Sher-cat, where are you?" I said feeling pitiful, I was certain that the monster dog of the Baskervilles was ripping him to pieces on the other side of the fence.

"Are you going to cry? Good gracious." I heard his arrogant voice from somewhere above me and I looked up.

There, silhouetted against the sun was Sher-cat climbing over the fence. He jumped down with easy, unharmed.

"You're alive!" I exclaimed.

"Brilliant deduction." He said sarcastically.

"How?" I asked.

"I fancy myself a good jumper, it was simple to leap out of reach of the dog's jaws and walk along the fence post out of harm's way. The hard part was timing it so that you had enough time to escape before the Yard sealed the dog in forever."

"How did you know where the hound was?"

"I heard a doddering old woman chattering with her odious friends about a dog that needed to be put down that belonged to the Baskervilles. They had adopted it in the past week and it had bitten their children several times. I heard that the Baskervilles lived in a simple house on Maple Street with a large back yard and a fence and then it was simple to deduce which house, somewhat more importantly, how in the world did you end up in the cat-trap? Surely you're not THAT oblivious?"

I told him all about the creepy-kitty and he smiled at my naiveté.

"He said that he would be in touch."

"That is very unfortunate news… I noticed that the hole in the fence was not only used by the dog… the wood had swatches of black cat hair caught in it… I wonder…" He muttered to himself.

"Do you thing the hound attacks were on purpose?" I asked.

"It is not impossible." He said mysteriously.

The Yard thanked us for our work and Lestrade grudgingly handed Sher-cat a small brown paper bag, which he took with great relish. I asked him what it was, but he only shook his head as he carried it in his mouth, mumbling unintelligible nonsense.

Afterwards Sher-cat showed me some cool restaurants where they throw-out lots of weird yummy food. For a house cat who doesn't have a lot of street smarts he somehow has intimate knowledge of the area. So anyway, we got home before our humans and had a fun time.

I'm glad we're safe at home now, because now I feel safe wondering who was that weird cat and how did he know Sher-cat.

Sher-cat doesn't seem to know him.

I hope we don't meet him again for a long time, or if I do meet him again I can beat him up for tricking me and almost killing me!

I feel a long eighteen hour snooze coming on. Sher-cat looks out over the city from the window and the streetlight casts a blue glow over his fur. It looks really pretty and weird.

I hope we can go on more (safer) adventures together and that I can learn more about my cat-mate.


Sincerely yours,
Watson-cat.