Advent Calendar Day 21

 

Happy Solstice!

I'm delighted to share with you this last minute surprise offering from Haldis. I'm not going to spoil this by telling you anything more than that (but I think it's so funny and charming AND WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT, IT MAKES PERFECT SENSE). ;-D

Mr. Pinkerton looked back over his shoulder to Miss Butterwith standing at the door to their cozy cottage.

“You go ahead, Mr. Pinkerton,” said Miss Butterwith. “I’m sure you will have a much nicer time with Pyewacket, then at my Orchid Society meeting. I’ll be fine for one evening. I promise not to find any dead bodies without you.” She waved cheerily to Mr. Pinkerton.

Mr. Pinkerton turned forward and walked through the falling snow, wondering idly if Miss Butterwith ever found bodies that weren’t dead. He joined Pyewacket where he waited by the swirling portal, and together they stepped through to a dark hallway.  

Mr. Pinkerton followed as Pyewacket led the way down a set of stairs, the bannister decorated with fresh pine garlands, to the living room below, lit only by the fire in the hearth and the white, twinkling lights of the tree in the corner. It was very warm and comfortable, with soft holiday music playing, and Mr. Pinkerton tried to remember every little detail so he could share it with Miss Butterwith when he returned home.

As they headed for the rug in front of the fire, Pyewacket pointed out his two people on the couch: John, sitting on the couch, and Cosmo, who was lying on the couch with his head on John’s lap. Well, Pyewacket clarified, Cosmo was his. John apparently belonged to Cosmo. Pyewacket had told Mr. Pinkerton earlier that if they wanted the room to themselves, all they had to do was start staring at John. He wasn’t a cat person. But Cosmo liked him, so Pye was willing to tolerate him. For a time.

Both men were reading, but Cosmo turned his head, noticing Pyewacket’s entrance, and sat up when he saw Mr. Pinkerton.

“Hey, Pye. Who’s your friend?”

“Meow”, answered Pyewacket.

“Meow”, greeted Mr. Pinkerton.

“Ah, British,” said Cosmo. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Pinkerton.”

“Uh,” John whispered to Cosmo. “How do you know his name is Mr. Pinkerton? And that he’s British?”

“The accent,” answered Cosmo. “And he said his name was Mr. Pinkerton.”

“Is he like yours?” John continued to whisper, as if Mr. Pinkerton and Pyewacket wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Does he have a witch?”

“Meow”, answered Mr. Pinkerton.

“Oh yes, I see,” acknowledged Cosmo. “Botanist,” he whispered to John.

John seemed to think about that for a moment, shook his head, leaned back into the couch, and lifted his book to continue reading, while mumbling something about witches and botanists.

Cosmo smiled fondly at him before settling himself back in his original position, also lifting his own book to continue reading.

Mr. Pinkerton stretched out with Pyewacket in front of the fire, Pyewacket rolling over onto his back. He was such a little flirt. Mr. Pinkerton thought about making him wait, maybe contemplate the flames for a bit, but in the end, he decided he did not want to wait, and snuggled in close to Pyewacket, enjoying the warmth and the music and the quiet companionship.

              

Mr. Pinkerton was awoken from a light doze by a snort from the couch. He was pretty sure it came from Cosmo, who was shaking his head and looking with disbelief at his book.

               “I don’t know why you’re even reading that,” muttered John, without lowering his own book.

               “Jinx wanted to know if the witches were accurately depicted,” answered Cosmo.

               “I take it they’re not.”

               “Yeah, no, it’s the boyfriend. He’s a shifter, and a…”

               “Shifter?” asked John.

               “Yeah. And a homicide detective and he is going on about his wolf said this, or his wolf thought that, or howled or whatever. Like it’s a separate identity, or he’s got multiple personality disorder or something. And like ten paged ago he was just explaining to his witch girlfriend,” he grinned up at John. “Who happens to also be an amateur sleuth because trouble always seems to find her.” He batted his eyelashes up at John. John scowled. “Anyway, the good detective was just saying how he was the exact same whatever shape he was in, so same personality, same identity, right?”

               “He’s a werewolf?”

               “Yeah.”

               “Why didn’t you just say werewolf, then?”

               “That’s not very inclusive. What about tigers, or foxes, or penguins?”

               Mr. Pinkerton had not thought about penguin shifters before. However, there was a constable up in Ingleby Barwick that was said to be a platypus.

               “Penguins? You know what, never mind.” John went back to reading his book for a moment. “It’s probably a euphemism.”

               “What is? Oh, yeah, ‘his wolf’. Cosmo snorted a laugh. “Of course it is.”

               John whacked him with his book.

               “Hey,” Cosmo protested, but continued laughing.

               They went back to their reading.

               Pyewacket was purring next to Mr. Pinkerton, kneading his paws into Mr. Pinkerton’s fur. It was very soothing. And very…. other things. Mr. Pinkerton thought it was about time to send the two humans elsewhere. Time to start their staring campaign.

It took about a minute and a half.

               “Now I have two cats staring at me,” muttered John.

               “You’re worth staring at,” Cosmo replied.

               “Why don’t we call it a night?” said John.

               “But,” answered Cosmo. “They just found an undead body.”

               Mr. Pinkerton perked up at these words. So, there were other bodies that weren’t dead bodies.

               “All the more reason. And I can assure you that my little wolf has a lot more to offer than their undead body,” John said

               “Little wolf?” Cosmo had lowered his book and was grinning up at John. “Big bad wolf, I’d

say”

               “If that gets you upstairs quicker.” John stood up, dislodging Cosmo, and then held out his hand to help him up. “Although, if you bring up Little Red Riding Hood, all bets are off,” John practically growled as he pulled Cosmo up the stairs.

               “Nice to meet you, Mr. Pinkerton,” Cosmo called over his shoulder as he trailed John. And then they disappeared upstairs.

               Mr. Pinkerton turned to Pyewacket. Pyrwacket stared back. They were alone. He touched his nose to Pyewacket’s.

               Merry Christmas, Pyewacket.

               Merry Christmas, Mr. Pinkerton.