I do not like to write author's notes, but I feel I must in this case. I will not put a note on any of the following chapters. Please bear with me.
First note: I think that one could argue about whether this is original fiction or it is fanfiction. I have decided to post it here, because I think it is fanfiction in the way that Basil of Baker Street is—it is based on Sherlock Holmes, and the main character deliberately models himself after Holmes. If someone feels very strongly that I ought to take this down, please PM me, and I will consider it. But, frankly, I doubt that anyone will care.
Second note: This is a kid's story about rabbits, so I probably don't have to say this, but I will. Almost everything I write deals with the price of love/friendship. This is one of my earliest stories, and I was very heavy handed…as anyone who bears through the whole thing will see. Because of the heavy-handed-ness, the word "love" gets thrown around a lot, particularly at the end. I just want to say that in this story "love" most emphatically does not mean "eros." If I were writing this today, I would write it in such a way that you would be able to tell what I meant without an author's note (or I'd try to) , but I don't want to rewrite it. I wrote this when I was a kid, and it's a kid's work. That's all.
I hope someone enjoys this story. It makes me giggle now, but it still holds a special place in my heart, so I thought I'd share. :-)
"I've found another clue!"
"Another one! Is it as good as the one that sent us on a fruitless search through all of Mercury's files?"
"Almost. This time we won't have to read all his files—only the ones related to any thefts. Just think, we could get them read and have the case finished by next year! Who knows, in a few years Mercury might even forgive us for the mess!"
Noddy laughed. That good-humored little rabbit was amazing, even if he was small and had a tendency to find too many "clues." Despite some small misadventures—misadventures that he would never allow Jack to forget—Noddy had solved more mysteries in the last few months then he had in all his years of detective work.
He was very glad that he had Jack for a partner, but that had not always been the case. He vividly remembered that evening, that began so much like every other evening, but in which his and Jack's lives were changed forever.
"Hey there liddul Noddy Woddy. How are you today? Is my handsome boy doing good today?"
That Kaitlyn, Noddy thought. My day was going just great until YOU came in with your stupid smile. He wished he could use his ability to speak to tell her just what an idiot she was. "Besides, it is SOOO degrading for an animal of my station to be cuddled and BRUSHED!" he spluttered to himself. "And by a kid!"
Once Kaitlyn had him out of the cage and began brushing him he tried to get away. He loved the feel of the brush running through his thick coat, massaging his pink skin. But he though it was degrading, and he feared that Boycie would see. Boycie! Noddy thought. That bushy tail just gives me the shivers every time I see it. If that guy got even a hint that I enjoyed being brushed he'd be off to the Central Office in seconds, and everyone would know before Kaitlyn had brushed another stroke. It's not fair that some people can navigate trees, and others can't.
"Bye-bye Noddy-baby. See ya later pumpkin." Noddy was rudely awakened from his musing by a big kiss on the top of his head. He immediately began washing his face and fur.
Why me? he thought. She would never kiss anyone else—so why does she have to do it to me? He looked up into the trees, but thankfully, no squinty face peered down at him, and he could see no bushy tails in the near vicinity.
Then, as Kaitlyn walked back to the house, Noddy thought about the night's work he had ahead of him. It was almost dark, and since Kaitlyn had brought him food and water, it would be safe to leave as soon as no one from her family could see through the window. He thought the little terror, Cameron, would not risk the cold to come out. Surely there was something inside on which that whippersnapper could bang his toy sword.
Darkness fell. The rabbit's nose twitched and his antenna-ears turned from side to side. Then he got up on two legs and unlatched his cage door. He leapt to the ground without making a sound.
Noddy turned and saw a pair of brown eyes under the thorn bush. "What?" he called. No one would ever know that his real name was Noddy Boffin—not if he could help it. And Kaitlyn thought it was adorable how he clambered over her books when she read. "It's SOOOOOOO cute," she squealed to her neighbors. "He looks like he's reading."
"Much she knows!" Noddy snorted to himself.
"Mr. Sherlock!" The voice sounded urgent.
"Come here," hissed the young rabbit. "We need to get to headquarters immediately."
"Why are you here? Shouldn't Boycie have come if it was so urgent?"
"He's sick—he had to take the day off."
Noddy's heart once more danced with joy at the thought that Boycie lived in a tree on the other side of the house. Although he lived at a great angle to spy on Noddy, Boycie had notoriously bad hearing.
"Okay! I'm coming. So, what's new at the office?" he asked as he came up to the other rabbit.
"Oh, not much," Jack replied shyly.
"C'mon, tell me what it is. I can tell something exciting happened." Noddy smiled good-naturedly.
"Well," said Jack, "Captain Mercury said I was doing so well that he would allow me to join you on your next mission."
Noddy's heart sank. He did not want to become a teacher of young recruits. It was fun spending time with Jack—but taking him on a mission! That would be bad. He did not want him to be hurt. However, he was not able to say anything to the small rabbit at the moment. He did not know what his problem was, but for some reason he could not say "no" to any rabbit easily, and if the rabbit was a small one, especially if the rabbit was Jack…Well, he would never make a stern father—that much was obvious.
Not that there was any fear of his ever becoming a father. He was caged all day, and he worked all night. He had no time for a family. And even if he had time, he wouldn't want one. He was "Sherlock"—emotionless. Mostly.