Challenge: Mirror
Title: And then there was Jeeves
Author: godsdaisiechain
Fandom: Jeeves and Wooster
Type: Fic
Characters/Pairing: Jeeves, Wooster,
Word Count: ~925
Rating: PG
Summary: Bertie investigates a scene of domestic confusion.


“Good morning, kitchen,” Bertie warbled in a pleasant, light baritone as he oiled in to find Jeeves. Morning sun shone in from the window and much seemed exactly as usual about the place. But it was not. The cheerful melody trailed to a halt. Something was gravely amiss.

The scene presented to the keenly trained e. a complete and utter lack of Jeeveses.

Presence of mind is the hallmark of men of the Wooster stamp and immediate measures were taken to get to the bottom of the matter.  “Jeeves?” Bertie called. “I would speak with you.”  Jeeves did not materialize. The Wooster temper frayed. “Where are you, dash it? Jeeves, I say. Come out.”

Still no J.  This was unaccountable.  The nerve of the fellow.  Bertie peered down the corridor, where the door to the Jeevesian lair stood ajar.  No valets lurked within. This rankled, then worry intruded an ugly head. Wooster was hopeless without Jeeves.

Bertie Wooster would not describe himself as a bloke to lightly throw the white flag into a sinking ship.  Mustering the wisdom gleaned from reading dozens of Rex Stout mysteries, he set forth like an intrepid Poirot to discover what had transpired, if that was the word he wanted.  He would have asked Jeeves, had J. been there to a. He returned to the kitchen, which was surely the scene of the crime. Clues must be discovered, lined up, and carefully interrogated.

The cerulean orbs alighted on a thousand misshapen Woosters reflecting back from a tray full of newly polished silver sitting on the sideboard. More silver sat under a protective white towel. A cloth and two sleeve guards lay, neatly folded, next to the jar of polish, on a wooden tray. Further investigation across the room revealed clean dishes, drying on a rack. On the counter by the cooker, eggs sat in a bowl with a single, scrubbed potato. Rashers of bacon, wrapped in greaseproof paper completed a prebreakfast tableau. All these actors would have appeared innocent, but the mystery of the missing valet transformed them into a shifty-eyed and sinister group of domestic thugs.

The slender belly emitted a low growl. Bertie was not usually the sort to crave viands so early in the day, but the absence of Jeeves activated the appetite, clouding the Wooster grey matter.  The scent of coffee sent Bertie scuttling for a cuppa.

The reviving beverage was still piping hot, and a covered plate of buttered toast was discovered to be skulking on a nearby breakfast tray.  Further investigation revealed that said toast was crisp and tasty.

“Sir?”  A piece of toast flew up and adhered to the sticky out bits in the lamp.

“Mrphh,” said the last of the Woosters through a spray of buttery crumbs. The breakfast tray bore the brunt of the splattery mess.  A bit of something lodged in the throat, and all would have gone dark had Jeeves not applied a few careful thumps to the slender back.

“Please be so kind as to relax, sir,” Jeeves said. Bertie gasped and choked, sending a few more bits of soggy bread to the floor.  Jeeves thumped and Bertie choked.

When the excitement died down, Bertie was draped over a Jeevesian arm, and a large, firm hand was on his slender back.  “Are you quite all right, sir?”

“Jeeves?” said Bertie limply. “Where have you been?”

“I apologize,” said Jeeves. “I was accepting a delivery of groceries when the tailor’s assistant arrived somewhat earlier than expected, and I had to make a second trip.”  Bertie cast the peepers doorward. A small crate of food looked at him accusingly from a side chair, the fronds of celery frowning severely over a white paper packet of chops.

He caught sight of his own boggling expression, reflected back manifold from the polished silver. “Oh, ah, very good, then.”  He tried to shift the feet back into some type of muster, but a slipper slid on a gummy piece of toast.  Somehow the limbs became tangled about the Jeevesian frame.

“It was not my intention to worry you, sir,” said Jeeves, patting the slender back again.  A skillful observer would have observed that he did not move away the way one would expect a valet to move away when standing too close to his master. In fact, the s. o. would have o-ed a fond expression on his dial.

“Ah, oh,” said Bertie, finally getting his feet under him.  Jeeves took half a step back, but the Jeevesian arm remained about the young master.  “The sitch isn’t as easy as anticipated, if that is the word I want.”

“Perhaps not,” Jeeves said. He didn’t say that he had feared the difficulties but couldn’t bring himself to voice them. “Do you wish to go back to the way things were heretofore?”

Bertie clutched his man. “No!”

“You seem somewhat distressed, sir,” Jeeves said.

“It was our first, ah whatnot. I woke to an absence,” said Bertie more in sorrow than anger.

“I had to look after your suits,” said Jeeves.  “Would you like some breakfast?”

Bertie wagged the bean slightly, and Jeeves smiled.  They moved closer, and their lips met. “We shouldn’t,” said Bertie, surprising Jeeves.  “I’m a bit brighter than you think.”

Jeeves smiled. “Perhaps, sir. We’re not expected anywhere,” he said.  They kissed again.

And then the bell rang and  a voice sounded through the door.  “Bertie!” The smiles fell from both faces.

“Ah, the ignominy of an enraged aunt bellowing like a mastodon in the corridor.” Bertie gave Jeeves one last peck on the cheek. “After our clubs, then?”

“Very good, sir,” said Jeeves.

And it was.