Title: Aemelia Vole's Tale
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Rating: G
Length: 1,103
Summary:  Aemelia is called upon to help Holmes with a case 

I had not been expecting to contribute to this publication in the nature of an entry in the story page, but the Ocelot has persuaded me I too have a story to tell.

In fact, I had not expected to be playing an active part in any of Mr Holmes’ cases, but as Mouselet was encouraged to leave Baker Street to assist her beloved inspector, I too was persuaded to help my favourite inspector.  At this junction I should make it clear that whilst Mouselet’s fondness for Inspector Hopkins is well known, he strikes me as still quite a young man, whereas Inspector Lestrade is a more mature gentleman, and to me the height of perfection.  I must add that Mouselet and I are not in disagreement over this, there are no arguments between us, and we have spent many a happy hour praising our respective favourite.

Where was I?  One of the traits of aging is one can easily be side-tracked, although considering the Ferret’s tendency to be distracted by snacks, we are not alone in this.

But to my role: I was quite horrified when Mr Holmes said to me, “Aemelia, your particular talents will be invaluable in this case and I am therefore going to request you leave Baker Street and accompany me.”

I had already heard about the case – there had been some discussion between Mr Holmes and Dr Watson about the involvement of Mrs Hudson and whether it would be dangerous for her.

“I will suggest Mrs Hudson asks Mrs Turner to accompany her,” Mr Holmes had said.

“If you do that she will instantly be suspicious.  I think you should tell her and let her make her own decisions,” the doctor replied.

Mr Holmes had demurred, but the doctor had insisted on telling Mrs Hudson it might be dangerous.

“What sort of dangerous?” Mrs Hudson demanded.

“The man is violent and no respecter of people,” Mr Holmes admitted grudgingly.  “You may wish to ask Mrs Turner to accompany you.”

“I see.  Is there any risk of fire or obnoxious substances?”

“No!”  Mr Holmes looked quite surprised at the question.  Nobody else did.

“And what am I supposed to do?”

“Deliver a small packet to an address in Whitechapel.  You will not need to enter the house, simply knock on the door and hand the packet over.”

“When?”

“Two days’ time.  That will give us long enough to prepare the packet.”

That had been in the morning.  In the afternoon Mr Holmes made his request of me.  I swallowed hard, but Mouselet was encouraging and Dr Watson assured me I would not need to leave his coat pocket, and so, to help the inspector who had rescued me, I agreed.

The first task was to embroider certain flowers on the corner of three lady’s handkerchiefs.  Mouselet assisted me because the pattern was detailed.  Whilst the stem and leaves of each flower were identical the flowers contained a code based on colour and type.  In addition, there was a fourth handkerchief which just had stems and leaves.

The three flowery handkerchiefs were parcelled up and Mrs Hudson duly arrived to collect the packet.  She was accompanied by three other landladies.  Mr Holmes expressed his surprise.

“We are going to a mission nearby,” Mrs Hudson said.  “We have a collection of clothes for children in need.”

One of the ladies opened her bag to demonstrate.  It also contained a poker.

“Ah,” he said.  “Do you all carry similar accessories?”

“Of course.”  Mrs Hudson waved her rolling pin.

Mr Holmes gave a bark of laughter.  “Then have a good day, ladies.”

They departed and in the afternoon Mrs Hudson reported the packet had been safely delivered.  The following morning Dr Watson put me in his coat pocket together with my sewing kit and a large selection of embroidery threads.

We took a cab and then walked to a square where Dr Watson found a bench to sit on.  Ordinarily I would have dozed, but I must admit to being rather excited at what was to come.  I had been told that it was possible nothing would happen, which would have been rather an antic-climax after all our preparation.  I was beginning to think this was the case when Mr Holmes appeared.

“The game is afoot,” he said.

He drew a rough sketch of the flowers he required, noting the colours.  I sewed the pattern on the fourth handkerchief as quickly as I could.  Ordinarily I would have been displeased with my work for the stitching was irregular and lacked any sense of precision.  But the colours and shapes were all correct and I had remembered the designs from the previous handkerchiefs, so I had a template in my head I could work from.  As soon as I had finished I informed Mr Holmes the handkerchief was ready.

“Thank you, Aemelia,” he said.  “Watson, you will have to do it.  We cannot risk my being recognised.”

“Of course, Holmes,” the doctor replied.  “Don’t worry, Aemelia, you will be quite safe.”

The doctor walked down one of the paths and when we approached two ladies, one young and very pale, the other a complete harridan whose expression resembled Mrs Hudson’s ‘even a bottle of gin is not going to make up for this’ look.

Dr Watson dropped the handkerchief and a few seconds later the young lady picked it up.

“How careless of me,” she said.  “It’s one of my new handkerchiefs.  I must have dropped it on the way.  See!”

She showed it to her companion who gave it a glace.  “You should be more careful.”

The young lady continued to look at the handkerchief before saying, “I should have been sorry to have lost it.”

Mr Holmes plan had worked perfectly.  At a casual glance the latest handkerchief could have been mistaken for one of the others, but the young lady had read the message.

We completed our walk, Dr Watson being sure not to hurry, so that he remained simply a gentleman out for a stroll.  Inspector Lestrade was awaiting our return.  The doctor nodded and the inspector gave orders to his men.

That evening there was a short report in the papers which told of the rescue of a young lady from a group of kidnappers.  Dr Watson read it out and then said, “There will be more in tomorrow’s papers.”

“Indeed,” Mr Holmes replied.  “But sadly, Aemelia’s contribution will not be recognised.”

The Ocelot was listening and said, “Perhaps Aemelia could write this for the Marylebone Monthly Illustrated.”

“An excellent suggestion,” Mr Holmes said, “Of course she should.”