“There is just one more thing I might ask of you Holmes, though it will seem quite irregular.”

Those had been the words the cunning little badger had used as we’d lowered the body of the deceased Loup-Garou into the vat of acid we’d found at the conveniently located glue factory down the street from Mr. Cokes’ home.

“Tonight was a hell of a night for me. I decide to kill a man in cold blood, I meet a Versieht in person, and the missus thought to evict me from my own home. I don’t suppose you know of any place I could stay for the night?”

Sitting at breakfast the words still rung in my head. I’d brought a were-beast back to 221B Baker St. A timid one mind you, but a were-beast nonetheless. I’d slept with my silver dagger in hand, not knowing if that was the proper weapon to use against a Mor but I’d not wished to arouse his suspicion by digging through my books at half-past midnight. Now I found myself staring across the breakfast table at him as Mr. Hudson came in with the serving tray. The old man’s mess of reddish hair with white streaks rested above a frazzled set of pale eyebrows and an ever-present smile.

“I hope you don’t mind the cooking of a Scotsman.” I commented as he approached. He gave me a dismissive wave and simply nodded at the newcomer.

“Goodness Holmes,” Watson nearly choked on the water he was drinking, “do you make a habit of sharing your prejudices so freely?” he then turned to Mr. Hudson, “Besides, the food smells absolutely delightful.”

“I thought you said he was a doctor Mr. Holmes. What’s he doing here in borrowed pajamas?” the landlord asked in his characteristically thick Scottish accent.

The embarrassment spread across my new friend’s face. There he sat with a napkin tucked into the neckline of his sleepwear as Mr. Hudson began to place items onto the table. Normally it was custom to fully dress before taking breakfast, but seeing as how we’d had a late night and slept until well after ten I felt the need for strong coffee before mustering the energy to get myself through that particular ritual. Watson had not disagreed with me. Looking at him now, a middle-aged man with graying hair and neatly kept moustache, I could not help but picture him as the Mor, the badger, that I knew him to be.

Had I allowed my common sense to leave me? Surely the man that sat across from me at the table could not be trusted based simply on his demeanor. It was my life’s work to hunt creatures such as he, not invite them over for scones. I tried to hide my contemplation behind the routine act of preparing my tea. Doctor John Watson could possibly provide me with much information that I found myself lacking, both on the subject of unnatural creatures and also on the apparent peculiarity of my own existence. Being a remarkably astute observer, however, my guest evidently was able to read even the slightest hint of emotion on my face.

“I cannot help but wonder,” he began, “what it is that you are contemplating at the moment Holmes. That tea is getting an awful lot of attention from you.”

“Why my dear Watson I have no idea to what you are referring.” I said as matter-of-factly as I could manage, never once taking my eyes from the table.

“Interesting...” Watson said, then paused as Mr. Hudson set his plate down in front of him, “just a moment ago I glimpsed what I could only describe as fascination, which was then replaced, the moment that I caught sight of it, by a seemingly disinterested reverie.”

“Well, anyone with proper upbringing knows that it is not terribly polite to stare.”

Watson chuckled, “It’s not every day that one takes tea with a badg...”

He halted in mid-sentence, his eyes shifted to Mr. Hudson. I smiled, then passed him the cream.

“Fear not Watson. You may speak freely in the presence of Mr. Hudson. He has, over the course of the last few years, been privy to information that would send any man with a lesser constitution to the asylum.”

“Oh?” he asked, his curiosity obviously piqued. “Let’s have it then.”

Mr. Hudson responded, “I can’t tell you the things I’ve seen with this here madman or how many times I’ve had to get on me hands and knees to clean up monster blood from the carpet.”

“Hyperbole of course.” I remarked, “I would never be so careless as to leave behind bloody shoe prints. Having spent several years assisting the Yard with homicides I know better than to make so amateur of a mistake.”

“You see that Mr. Watson?” the landlord asked, “Calling me a liar he does.”

“Absolutely not Mr. Hudson, but you do tend to exaggerate.”

“Well,” he said to the doctor, “maybe not the rug, but you should see some of his laundry! Oh well, he’s paid up his rent ten years in advance, I suppose I can’t complain.”

At that Watson enjoyed a good chuckle at my expense.

“Ah, yes. Thank you Mr. Hudson.” I said to him plainly, “That will be all.”

He gesticulated at the doctor, “You keep any eye on this one you hear? He’s a whole lot of trouble.”

“That I will do sir, and thank you for the breakfast.”

He nodded and with that turned for the exit carrying the empty serving trays. Watson held his tongue for a few moments after the landlord left, waiting until the sound of his footsteps upon the stairs could be heard before breaking the silence.

“Tell me Holmes, what is it about the makeup of your character that requires you to hold others at such a distance? Are you the same way with your family?”

Family? A sudden realization came to me. If that which made the doctor a Mor by birth was hereditary then was it possible that my brother Mycroft was a Versieht as well? What of our parents? Surely at least one of them had been. Then again I had no information on which to form a true hypothesis. Perhaps whatever it was that defined me as Versieht had nothing at all to do with bloodlines. There was even the possibility, though I could not see motive for it, that my new badger friend had simply made the entire thing up.

“I thought you to be a physician Watson, I had no idea that you were also an analyst.” I cracked a grin and turned to him, “Would you like me to begin with how I feel about my father?”

Watson waved away my sarcasm. “Do you see? That’s precisely what I am talking about Holmes. You wield your wit like a sword, and it keeps others at bay.”

“Indeed.” I smiled.

“And that’s exactly as you’d have it, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely Watson. Attachments can be a rather serious impediment, to any man, but more so with one engaged in my particular...endeavors.”

“Yet you have quite easily built a rapport with me, and we’ve only just met.”

“You seem to have little trouble with verbal sparring yourself Watson. Perhaps that is why I like you.”

“Words of compliment?” he scoffed, “Why Holmes I’m flattered.”

Just then there came the sound of a police whistle from the street below, followed shortly by the clattering of hooves and a commotion from the crowd. The doctor went to stand but I reached out a hand to stay him.

“That would be an officer of the law attempting to arrest a man who was selling stolen goods from the back of his cart, and failing miserably at the undertaking I might add.”

“Oh?” Watson asked, giving me a look of disbelief. “And how, may I ask, did you deduce that?”

“I didn’t.” I said, sipped my tea, then continued. “I spied the man from my window this morning immediately after I awoke. His name is John Edward Casey and he is a known thief. When I saw him accosting passers-by, attempting to show them items from the back of his wagon, I merely presumed that they were stolen and had Mr. Hudson give one of the neighborhood ragamuffins five pence to go and fetch a constable.”

“Does nothing escape your attention Holmes?”

“Very little does.” I confirmed for him. “Though I must say, like any man my powers of observation are affected by environmental factors. I wonder...” I paused only briefly before continuing, “if you would allow me to once again see you in your bestial state.” I motioned to the windows, “Now that there is daylight in which I might better observe you.”

The good doctor bowed his head in the affirmative, choosing not to speak since his mouth was full of scone. He washed it down with a sip of tea and then removed the napkin from the neck of his pajamas and placed it beside the plate which sat in front of him on the table.

“My what big eyes you have Grandma.” he said to me rather sarcastically then, with a quiver that seemed to begin at the nape of his neck and run down his entire body, he shook and his true self was revealed.

“The better to see you with.” I remarked, finishing the line from the fairy tale. I placed my own napkin on the table and leaned in for a closer look. “Absolutely astonishing.” I said. “And you are able to hold this form as long as you wish?”

“Yes.” he said through badger lips, the silvery-gray fur of his cheeks ruffling as he spoke. “Once one has developed the proper skill it takes no effort at all to maintain either human or animal form.”

“And the transformation itself?” I asked, moving my head slightly from side to side, inspecting every inch of his face.

“Quite simple really, it takes only a modicum of concentration.”

“I meant...is it painful?”

“That’s not how I’d describe it, no. It is...unsettling, until one becomes accustomed to it. For me, now, it is only a very brief moment of discomfort.”

“Just a moment.” I said, then got up and ran to my desk where I seized up my glass. He seemed not to mind very much as I proceeded to use it to inspect the hair follicles and underlying skin upon the top of his head.

“I hope you’ll tolerate just a moment longer of this scrutiny.” I said, almost under my breath. “But it is for the good of science.”

He jumped with a start as I plucked free one of the hairs from his head, growled slightly.

“Sorry Watson. I’ve just never gotten to examine one of you so close while...”

He cut me off, “While still alive?”

His words gave me pause and I pulled the glass away from him. Searching for the correct words I hesitated, then looked him in the eye. “I’m terribly sorry Doctor. My manners have apparently taken leave of me. Not only do I study you like some sort of lab animal but I forget that to you I must be the monster. Please forgive me.”

He waved me away. “Stop being so melodramatic Holmes. I can certainly understand curiosity, as I have my own about you. As for the other matter, don’t forget that I myself would have killed Cokes had you not gotten to him first. He may have been a fellow were-beast but I can tell you that there is no love lost between Loup-Garou and Mor.”

I sat back at the table, intrigued. “Something I had not considered.” I said, staring off into the distance, then turning to look at the doctor. “That even amongst the world of monsters there would be a tribal mentality. I mean yes, I had considered that certain types of beasts might dislike one another or even fight on occasion, but I’d not thought of it in the context of cultural differences.”

“Because you did not think of us a people. Am I right?”

I bit my lip in thought, hesitant to answer, but he was correct. “Very true Watson. I can say that until meeting you I’d not...”

My attention turned to the stairs, or rather the sound of Mr. Hudson coming up them quickly. Men’s shoes, size eight, and the barely detectable oddity of his gait; the result of a carriage accident when he had been but a child. While the pattern of his steps were characteristic of the man the way in which he flung open the door was not. Giving so much thought to what could possibly be so urgent neither I, nor Watson, took into account the fact that the good doctor was still in his bestial state.

“By God!” Mr. Hudson screamed as his eyes immediately went to the badger seated at the table.

“Mr. Hudson, Mr. Hudson!” I exclaimed, rising from my chair to meet him, “It’s quite all right Mr. Hudson.”

Holding his hand over his heart and breathing heavily he managed to hit me several times with a rolled up piece of paper that he had in his hand. Watson immediately rose from where he was sitting to apologize.

“Is that what you’re after Mr. Holmes, to give an old chap a heart attack?” he snapped.

“I’m so terribly sorry Mr. Hudson, I had not expected that you would return so soon.” I said, trying to calm him.

“Please don’t be afraid sir, it’s only me.” I heard Watson trying to explain.

“I know that it’s you Doctor, I’m not a fool. You still scared the daylights out of me.” the Scotsman panted.

“Holmes you said he was privy to information about...”

“Yes,” he cut Watson off, “I know all about the monsters and such, but you’ll forgive me if I had a start. I’ve just never come upstairs to find Mr. Holmes having breakfast with one before.”

I cracked a smile, tried not to laugh. He caught site of it, cracked a half-smile of his own, then hit me with the piece of paper one last time before wagging a finger at me.

“Mr. Hudson?” I asked, “What is that in your hand?”

“It’s what I was coming up here to deliver to you before you nearly frightened me into an early grave you daft bastard.” the landlord said in his scratchy tone.

“Let me see it.” I demanded, reaching for it with one hand while leaning to grab my spectacles from a nearby table with the other.

“The man who delivered it said it was extremely urgent. That’s why I rushed up here in such a hurry.”

“Let us see.” I began, then letter aloud:

Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,

It is with the utmost haste that I ask for you to come and meet with me. I have reason to believe that there is corruption within the halls of Scotland Yard of the variety that I cannot speak of to anyone save you. I believe there to be a very real danger not only to the citizens of London but possibly even to the crown itself. This matter requires your full and immediate attention. You know where to find me.

“Signed, Gregory Lestrade.”

“The inspector?” Mr. Hudson asked.

“Yes, one and the same.” I turned to face the doctor, “Come Watson, we must get dressed, we’ve not a moment to lose.”

“Holmes I’m a doctor not a detective.”

“You wanted to study me, well here’s your chance to see me in action. Come now!” already headed for my room I stopped in place, spun to face him, then wagged my finger at his face. “Oh, and do take that off Watson, you look quite ridiculous.”