ACADEMIA
Based on the movie "Sherlock Holmes"

Introducing Mr. Rochester

"Well, as I was saying, I was worried all the noise would bring the police. Which, it did." I paced around the room.

Watson looked at me warily, his chin in his hand.

"Are you saying you are a wanted woman? Alert Scotland Yard. I cannot have criminals in my household." Holmes said all of this whilst poking the corgi pup lying in his prone position on the floor with the violin bow.

"I beg your pardon! Would you kindly let me finish explaining myself?" My feathers were easily ruffled after the entire day's ordeal.

Holmes turned to sit sideways in his chair, violin bow in hand, looking bored. Watson dusted himself off, and then settled into his seat, leaning forward on his elbows, his hands peaked.

"Now then, all the ruckus from the warehouse brought two officers who were on their beat nearby."

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I stood at the top of the stairs watching dozens of men yell, fight, and claw their way towards Princess Catherine as she dodged between their legs. All of a sudden, I heard a whistle blow coming from the entrance to the warehouse. Two policemen stood in the doorway with their batons out. Their helmets glinted in the morning light; the leather straps beneath their chins making them look severe.

The officer who blew the whistle shouted, "Oy! What's goin on in 'ere? What's all this? Break it up you lot!" He blew the whistle again and a few men turned their attention to the police, fists still hanging in the air.

My stomach dropped down through my feet. Was I to be arrested? Would Holmes speak on my behalf? No, of course he wouldn't. He would probably walk in to see me behind bars then just laugh and wish me well. Certainly, Watson or Mary would help me? Technically, I had done nothing wrong. The man at the door gave me permission to enter and look around. That must hold up in court, mustn't it?

All these thoughts raced through my mind as I watched the secretary run over to the policemen and begin shouting and pointing up at me. His sleeves were unrolled and his tie was unwound, hanging around his neck. His green visor pushed back on his head.

The handsome grey eyed man, I assumed the manager, said, "You had better go down and explain yourself. It would look better if you approached them on your own terms." He gently put his hand on the small of my back to guide me.

He was right. I literally hung my head as I trudged down the stairs. The gentleman followed me, and I felt slightly comforted. Maybe he could vouch for me, though there was no reason at all why he should want to. His handsome face looked simultaneously amused and annoyed, but I could not put my finger on why he should be amused. Maybe he was like Holmes in that he found the things I did funny when I thought them foolish.

I moved towards the policemen on wobbly legs. I feared my knees would give out and somehow, I think the grey-eyed man knew how afraid I was and reached out to steady me by the elbow.

"By the way," he whispered, "my name is Nathan Perry, and I manage this humble establishment." I knew it. My heart sank. The manager was kind enough to walk me over to be sure I was arrested. I mumbled, "Nice to meet you-"but my voice disappeared in my throat as I approached the policemen.

Upon reaching the men in charge of my fate, I recognized the second policeman who had not spoken as Officer Clark. Relief washed over me. Officer Clark would certainly know what to do, and at least he knew that I worked with (for) Holmes. I regained some strength as I cried out "Officer Clark!" over the din of the still grappling men. He did not hear me until I was right in front of him, but upon seeing me looked confused, yet pleased.

"Why Miss Keaton, whatever are you doing here? Are you the cause of all this turmoil?"

"I'm afraid so sir. I am working on a case for Mr. Holmes and have somehow managed to start a riot."

"Whatever for?" He pulled me aside and through the door so we could hear each other better. Mr. Perry stayed inside the doorway, surveying his men.

"You see, it all started with this woman's lost cat. I was looking for it and found her here. She is there even now among all the men chasing her. I offered five pounds to whoever caught her, but that seems to not have been the best idea."

"Good lord, no wonder there is such a fuss. Five pounds is a lot of money. You should know better than to tease working men with the promise of free money."

"I'm so sorry Officer Clark. I never meant for any of this to happen." I was almost physically ill with the thought of possible arrest.

"That chap over there said you were trespassing," he said, nodding at the troublesome secretary.

"That's not true! I was invited in!" I bristled with indignation. "I can even show you the man who gave me permission…" and I whirled around looking for the man who had been at the door.

It was at that moment that a miracle happened. It almost occurred in slow motion, as I saw one worker chasing Princess Catherine up the aisle towards Officer Clark and I. I could see the look of determination on the man's face as he dove for her. At the last moment she leapt into the air, and landed in Officer Clark's arms. Officer Clark was as shocked as I was at this particular turn of events, and did not seem to believe his eyes. The man who had been chasing the cat scuttled to a halt at our feet, disappointment etched in every inch of his face.

"Ay, bugger it all! That damned animal is as slick as a greased pig to catch. I guess I don't get my reward." His eyes were downcast.

Officer Clark turned to me and nodded his head, so I reached into my pocket for the money. The man took the pro-offered bill with a huge smile and promptly turned toward the crowd and shouted over the noise, "Oy! Boys! I got her! Five pounds for me, mates!"

There was a general groan followed by shouts of disdain. I was afraid another fight might break out, but that was when the man who had been at the door, I found him to be the foreman shouted, "All right, back to work you lot! That's enough messin around."

Several men kicked the ground and some gave me dirty looks while others took off their hats and waved goodbye to me. I waved back tentatively and shrugged my shoulders as I tried to look sympathetic. Then, Mr. Perry shouted to them, "I'll pay for a round of drinks to any one of you who shows up to McGinty's tonight. Just one round though."

There was a cheer followed by a round of applause as Mr. Perry turned to me. I looked on with wide eyes and an open mouth as he said, "They might as well get something for their trouble. It will probably make them work harder for the rest of the day, since some young lady has taken the liberty to distract them for the last hour."

"I'm so sorry for bothering you and your men. I truly apologize, I never meant for any of this to happen. It was supposed to be so simple."

At this point, Officer Clark came over with the cat still in his arms. "Was this the cause of all your trouble?" Princess Catherine mewed smugly, as if she was totally innocent of the events of the last three days.

"Yes sir, she seems to have taken a liking to you. It's a miracle that we've got her back. Thank you so much for your help." Thank heavens the cat liked Officer Clark, or we might still be chasing her.

"I suppose I better see you off and make sure everything is put to right." He turned to Mr. Perry, "Is there anything else I can do for you sir?" The sight was quite comical, a stern London policeman holding a large, fluffy white cat, her tail twitching up and down.

"Thank you officer, that will be all. Just see that Miss ah…?" He looked at me, questioning politely.

"Keaton. Catherine Keaton, sir." I took the liberty of curtsying. My muscles were stiff from my fall, and dirt covered my torn dress. I must have been a sight to behold.

"See that Miss Keaton returns home safely and causes no further damage to anyone else's business on the way." I blushed furiously, but I could not help a bashful smile.

"Oh, and Miss Keaton, whom do you work for that has sent you on such a strenuous errand?"

"I am working as an assistant for Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

"The Sherlock Holmes? Fascinating. Good day Miss Keaton, and please, do not come again." He said his last remark with a wink, and turned away, his hands behind his back.

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Officer Clark and I caught a carriage back to the Weatherby house, and I explained the entire charade to him. The cabbie did look at us strangely with our unconventional cargo in tow, but took us on anyway.

"So this Weatherby fellow will reward you for your trouble?"

"Yes sir and I would be more than happy to share my payment with you."

"Oh no, do not trouble yourself Miss. All I did was catch; you did all the detective work." I smiled as we reached the Weatherby home. As I rang the bell, I could not wait to see the look on Charles' face. I was not disappointed because the dumbfounded expression, open mouth and fallen monocle and all, was well worth tramping around a smelly fish market all morning.

Mrs. Weatherby appeared behind him, "Charles, who is at the door?" Upon seeing who indeed was at the door, she went pale, then, just as I was afraid she was about to faint, let out a deafening squeal.

"My precious! You've found her! Oh you wonderful, wonderful girl!" She rushed forward to take Princess Catherine from Officer Clark's arms, tears streaming down her face.

Mrs. Weatherby's cries brought her husband to the door, where his quiet smile contrasted greatly with Charles' stunned expression.

"Well done Miss Keaton." The relief on his face was palpable.

Mrs. Weatherby asked through tears of joy, "However did you find her? I was sure that scoundrel of a kidnapper would never let her go."

Officer Clark took over, "The unsavory details are better left unsaid Madam. Suffice it to say, that Miss Keaton's methods succeeded in procuring your pet, and the offending party will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law." Mrs. Weatherby jutted her chin out, her eyes hard. Before she could protest, I reached into my pocket to return the portrait of Princess Catherine, which she took with grateful poise, handing it over to Charles who looked put out.

I made eye contact with Mr. Weatherby, and he nodded. "Why don't you take her inside and have the maid give her a bath. I will finish up this matter with Miss Keaton." Both Princess Catherine and I needed a good scrubbing. I was not sure I would ever get the fishy smell out of my dress.

"The devil that did this deserves the rope I tell you, make sure the judge knows that." She turned to me, "Thank you Miss Keaton for all of your hard work, I shall never be able to repay you." Her grateful face and watery eyes brought me a twinge of happiness.

"It was my pleasure Mrs. Weatherby. I'm just glad I was able to help you." She turned, hugging her precious cat, and headed upstairs. Looking over Mrs. Weatherby's shoulder, Princess Catherine's green eyes met mine, and her smashed face seemed to express betrayal. Curse that cat. If she went missing again, let the devil take her.

Once his wife had gone upstairs out of earshot, Mr. Weatherby continued, "I cannot thank you enough Miss Keaton. You have quite literally recaptured my wife's happiness, and rescued mine in the process. She's done us both a great service, hasn't she Charles?"

"Yes sir," answered the butler tentatively. Charles's opinion seemed to differ from that of his master, but it no longer bothered me. Let him look down on me forever. He would always resemble a walrus anyway.

Mr. Weatherby did not seem to notice the butler's disapproval as he said, "I suppose there is still the matter of payment to be dealt with?"

"Yes sir, if you do not mind." I blushed at the thought of asking for money, but chided myself for my childishness. It was perfectly natural that I should be paid for rendering a service. A man would not bat an eye at the thought.

Mr. Weatherby reached into his wallet, and pulled out four five pound notes. I gasped as he handed me twenty pounds and was about to protest when Officer Clark simply said, "Thank you very much sir. We'll be off now." He guided me down the street, and when I finally came to myself after the shock of receiving so much money, I turned around and shouted in a very unladylike way, "Thank you Mr. Weatherby! Thank you very much! Have a wonderful day," I waved rapidly at him and saw a slight smile grace his face as he turned back inside the house. Charles just glared at me, and then shut the door.

Passersby looked disgruntled at my display, but I ignored them. I had just solved my very own case (with a bit of luck) and had earned myself a place as Holmes' assistant.

"Well, speaking of spoiled pets," Officer Clark started talking as if I had not just been given a small fortune, "are you in the market for a dog? My wife's corgi just had pups, and she's got one left. We've been trying to get rid of him, but he's a bit off you see. He's the runt of the litter and his tongue is too long for his mouth. I have been asking everyone I know if they are in need of a dog. He might be a nice companion for you here in London."

My first thought was that it would be too much trouble. What did I need with a dog? They had to be walked everyday and cared for…but, it might be nice to have a companion; something to come home to (besides my eccentric 'roommate'). Having a pet might help with my mood. Walking him would get me out of the house and help me exercise. The doctors said exercise was the best medicine for me, other than having a husband to occupy myself. They thought I had too many ideas, too many things to think about, and that added to my episodes of melancholia. The fact that I read so much and preferred to be by myself rather than with other people just solidified their diagnoses. Having a dog was preferable to finding a husband, and so much less maintenance. I never expected any man to understand me or make me happy. A dog could love me unconditionally.

"Let's go have a look at him, shall we?" And we both turned towards Officer Clark's home.

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"Please Mrs. Hudson", I begged, "I will take complete responsibility for him." I held the squat puppy in my arms, his tongue lolling out. My heart instantly warmed at the thought of having something of my own to take care of. She looked at me, then at the pup, then up the stairs where some kind of explosion was heard.

"I suppose Miss Keaton, what is one more animal in the house?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

"And what will be the gentlemen's name?"

I had been contemplating that on the carriage ride home. "Mr. Rochester." Jane Eyre was my favorite book, though this dog in no way resembled his namesake.

"Surely he has a Christian name?" She eyed the dog in my arms warily, as if his name might make him worthy of distrusting.

"Chester. Mr. Chester Rochester, at your service." Chester's stare was blank, and he did not even bat an eye at the explosion we heard upstairs. Maybe he was deaf?

"Chester!" I said in a harsh whisper, and jerked his head around. No, he was not deaf, but whether or not he was dumb still remained to be seen. The long tongue hanging out of his mouth did not help matters.

I marched upstairs, my heart light and content. Upon knocking at Holmes' door, Dr. Watson appeared, covered in a fine powder. "Well hello Miss Keaton, how is the case going?" I was surprised Holmes had even mentioned it to him.

"Have a seat, and I shall tell you all about it."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: What do you think? Any ideas about what will come next? Anything you want to really see? Let me know!

I hope to get the next chapter up by next Friday, but if it turns out that it will be later I will post a note :)

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