Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries

My Advetures as a Purranormal Detective

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Sherlock Herms: The Conclusion of The Making of a Master Detective
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Sherlock Herms Master Detective – Conclusion
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Sherlock Herms Master Detective – Part 9
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Sherlock Herms Master Detective – Part 8
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Sherlock Herms Master Detective – Part 7

Sherlock Herms: The Conclusion of The Making of a Master Detective

With the holidays behind us, Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries resumes on Wednesday with his new adventure: Back to the Future! To refresh your meowmories…or if you’re new to our weekly blog serial, we are reposting the Conclusion of Sherlock Herms: The Making of a Master Detective. See you next Wednesday!

Previously on Sherlock Herms: The Making of a Master Detective…

Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7. Part 8. Part 9.

“What’s the Chewy.com box for?” I asked Dori.

“Wemember when I asked if yoo knew where babies come from? Yoo said storks. But I knew better. Yes, storks are involved, but they deliver babies that come from Chewy.com.”

“But what does a Chewy box have to do with getting me home?”

Dori assembled the cardboard into it’s box shape. “Simple, Hwermie. Yoo get into the box, and I bwing yoo home.”

“But Mosey moves away when I approach him.”

Dori gestured to the box. “Get in.”

I tried to hop inside, but the damp, soggy English weather had seeped into my old bones and I struggled. Finally Dori tipped the box on its side, I walked in, and she flipped the lid closed. I heard her ask Mrs. Gray for help. I felt the box leave the floor, but then I was jiggled around as Mrs. Gray chased after Mosey.

She finally placed the box on the floor and I rolled out. “It’s not going to work, Dori.”

Instead of tears I saw determination on my little sisfur’s pretty face. “It’s going to work, Hwermie. I’m gonna get yoo home. Or I’m staying here with yoo. Yoor my brofur and bestest furend. I’m never gonna leave yoo.”

And now…

The Conclusion.

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Sherlock Herms Master Detective – Conclusion

Previously on Sherlock Herms: The Making of a Master Detective…

Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7. Part 8. Part 9.

Previously on Sherlock Herms: The Making of a Master Detective – Part 9

“What’s the Chewy.com box for?” I asked Dori.

“Wemember when I asked if yoo knew where babies come from? Yoo said storks. But I knew better. Yes, storks are involved, but they deliver babies that come from Chewy.com.”

“But what does a Chewy box have to do with getting me home?”

Dori assembled the cardboard into it’s box shape. “Simple, Hwermie. Yoo get into the box, and I bwing yoo home.”

“But Mosey moves away when I approach him.”

Dori gestured to the box. “Get in.”

I tried to hop inside, but the damp, soggy English weather had seeped into my old bones and I struggled. Finally Dori tipped the box on its side, I walked in, and she flipped the lid closed. I heard her ask Mrs. Gray for help. I felt the box leave the floor, but then I was jiggled around as Mrs. Gray chased after Mosey.

She finally placed the box on the floor and I rolled out. “It’s not going to work, Dori.”

Instead of tears I saw determination on my little sisfur’s pretty face. “It’s going to work, Hwermie. I’m gonna get yoo home. Or I’m staying here with yoo. Yoor my brofur and bestest furend. I’m never gonna leave yoo.”

And now…

The Conclusion.

At the time her words gave me hope. An hour later they resounded through my hot brain like a vicious threat.

Attempt #2

“Hide inside the box,” Dori directed. “Act distwacted. Look the other way. Whistle for Mosey to appwoch yoo.”

Mosey tripped all over himself trying to race from the room.

Note to self: Learn to whistle.

Attempt #3

“Get on the chair,” Dori told me. “Then jump into the box.”

To preserve my dignity, I refused to give purrrmission to publish the photo of me sprawled on my floofy ass.

“I’m never gonna leave yoo.” An hour later Dori's words resounded through my hot brain like a vicious threat. Click To Tweet

Attempt #4

“Slide down the wope into the Chewy box,” Dori told me.

Even Fergus had his doubts this would work, and he was right.

Attempt #5

“Don’t get discouwaged, Hwermie! This next idea is sure to work.”

As you can see…it did not.

Attempt #6

After Dori insisted we load the Chewy box with heavy rocks to stop Mosey from moving…it worked!

Except for one minor flaw…

Attempt #7

“Cwouch down inside the box,” Dori told me. “Pwetend yoo awen’t there.”

Ohhh-kay!

She then crawled on top of my shoulders. “Look Mosey! It’s me, Dori! *wavy paws* Hwermie is not inside the box. Yoo can come closer so we can put the box inside yoo!”

Isn’t she precious?

Attempt #8

I deserve each an every ache, pain and bruise for going through with her Catapult idea.

Please bow your heads in memory of my dignity.

Attempt #9

“I pwomise this is going to work,” Dori told me. Her eyes were wide with a hint of manic determination, and her voice carried a note of hysteria. “All we have to do is shoot yoo from a canon into the box, and then jump on the box and shut it before Mosey can move.”

“We don’t have a canon,” I pointed out.

“Actually,” Fergus spoke up. “I do.”

Three hours later I awoke in Fergus’s bed in front of a cozy fire. The aroma of roast turkey filled the air. I followed the scent to the kitchen to see Dori, Fergus and Mrs. Gray in deep discussion. They quickly filled a plate for me and let me in on Dori’s next hare-brained scheme to get me home.

“There’s a steamer ship leaving for Ameowica in the morning, and yoor gonna be on it.”

A steamer ship! Wow!

I envisoned myself aboard a luxury liner. Not First Class, of course. That was reserved for celebrities like the Unsinkable Molly Brown and Rose DeWitt Bukater. Probably second class. Might even have to share a room with a stranger. But that was okay. I get along with everyone!

I would socialize with those poor saps on the third class level. Maybe even steerage. I’d sneak them some spring lamb with mint sauce and grilled ox kidneys with bacon cuz their menu would consist of gruel, cabinet biscuits and cheese.

At night under the cloak of darkness I’d slick back my floofy tail and head up to First Class deck where I’d stay in the shadows while watching the passengers parade arm in arm, chatting about how rich they were.

Maybe… Maybe I’d catch the eye of a beautiful rich girl trying to escape her boorish boyfriend and we would fall in love. She would love me because I’m handsome and have a healthy social media following…although I’d probably have to explain social media to her. And she’d get all swoony over me being so smart ‘n stuff.

Mrs. Gray snapped her fingers in front of my face, bringing me back to the present. Well, I was stuck in 1894, so the present of the year I was physically in.

She said, “We could only scrape together a few pounds so you will be traveling in the cargo hold.”

“Inside the Chewy box,” Fergus added.

Ah yes. The Chewy.com box. Then a thought occurred to me. “Dori, we are in 1894. A steamer ship isn’t magical like Mosey. If you ship me to Ameowica, I will arrive…still in 1894.”

“Actually,” said Fergus, “you will arrive in 1895. It’s December 8th. We couldn’t afford to ship you on one of them fancy new super steamers that arrive in nine days. Sorry. You won’t arrive until January.”

“Possibly February,” Mrs. Gray added.

“January? February!” My heart somersaulted. “I’ll be inside the Chewy box for weeks? I’ll starve. And I’ll miss Christmas!”

“No worries,” said Mrs. Gray. “I’ve fixed you a splendid turkey with all the trimmings. That should tide you over if you don’t make a piggy of yourself. And I’ve made you a scarf to keep you warm. Consider it a Christmas present.”

“Did yoo make me one too?” my little sisfur wondered, eying the pink scarf with envy.

“Dori! I’m not getting into that box and letting you ship me to Ameowica 1895.” My heart ached with sadness. “I’m stuck here. I’ll never get home. I’ll never see Mom again. I’ll never help her write another novel. Without me as her mews, she will dry up creatively and have to go get a real job. She’s been out of the workplace for too many years. She’s only qualified to say ‘Welcome to Meijers,’ or ‘Do you want fries with your burger?’ So sad!”

“Hwermie! Listen to me. I know what I’m doing.”

“I’ll never solve another purranormal mystery,” I lamented. “Not that I actually solved anything cuz I suck at detecting. But I had that cool office in the attic. Dad will probably chop up my desk for firewood and Mom will toss my Bakelite telephone and snake-necked lamp into the Recycle bin…”

“Hwermie! Yoo have nuffin’ to fear. I’m gonna get yoo home.”

“You can live with us,” said Fergus. “My master will be thrilled to meet you. You can’t be his writer’s muse, of course. That’s my job. But…” He looked at Mrs. Gray who said, “You can help me in the kitchen. You can be my cooking muse.”

They were trying hard to make me feel better, but my heart wasn’t in it. For all intents and purrposes…I was homeless.

Dori got in my face, took my whiskers in her paws and glared at me. “Yoo snap outta it, Mister! No feeling despurrate and discouwaged. Twust me. I know what I’m doing.”

She pointed to the box on the floor. “That isn’t an owdinawy box, Hwermie. It’s a Chewy.com box. Magical stuff happens to whatever is inside. Plus they have most excellent customer service. If yoo go missing, they will twack yoo down. Or weplace yoo. Customer satisfaction guawanteed!”

I covered my face with my paws. I didn’t have a choice. It was either trust Dori and her crazy idea about Chewy.com’s box getting me back home to Mom, Dad and my W.A.D. team, or live out my remaining years with the murderous Doyle who killed off my hero, Sherlock Holmes.

I crawled into the box. Fergus dragged his comfy bed from the fireplace to cushion the bottom. Mrs. Gray added the roast turkey with trimmings. Dori reluctantly returned my pink scarf.

I stared into Dori’s wide eyes, maybe for the last time. A lot of magical stuff had happened to me since Dori and I opened the Wonderpurr Detective Agency. But did I believe her latest crazy scheme would work? That the Chewy.com box possessed enough magic to time travel me back to the 21st Century? Not really.

“We had some good times together,” I told her, forcing a wide smile. When she stepped back with flattened ears, I laughed with sincerity. “I’m okay doing this, honey. Whatever happens, it’s meant to be.”

She placed her paws on the side of the box and nuzzled my whiskers. “Yoo gonna be awright, Hwermie. Don’t be fwightened. Twust me.” She licked my nose, and then Mrs. Gray secured the lid.

I could smell Dori through the right side of the box. “I love you, honey,” I told her. “You will always be my bestest friend.”

“This isn’t goodbye, Hwermie. Twust me. Everything is gonna be aw-wight.”

“Meowy Christmas!” I called out as I felt the box rise into the air. Soon the chill of the damp English weather seeped into my bones. I wrapped the pink scarf around my neck and hunkered down on Fergus’s bed. Nibbling the roasted turkey helped to warm my belly. It was crispy with delicious seasoning. But then I recalled Mrs. Gray telling me not to be a piggy. It had to last me through to January…maybe even February!

Soon the sounds and smells of the docks seeped through the cardboard. Eventually silence surrounded me and the only movement was a gentle swaying that told me I was at last at sea.

Hi Pals! Thanks everyone for following my Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries. I know this might not be the Conclusion you were expecting, but we seek to entertain and keep you guessing as to what will happen next. In this case, an all new Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries is coming with big changes, but you will have to read Sherlock Herms in Back to the Future to find out what they are. Like Dori says… “Twust me.”

CHECK OUT THE SHERLOCK HERMS CASE ARCHIVES FOR MORE MYSTERIES

and my W.A.D. team

and our typist and meowmy…

If you like what you’re reading, here are more stories by Kimberley Koz and Herman, her mews:

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Sherlock Herms Master Detective – Part 9

Previously on Sherlock Herms: The Making of a Master Detective…

Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7. Part 8.

Hi pals! I’m back from Thanksgiving hiatus. I hope everyone in Ameowica had a delicious Turkey Nom Day. To bring you up to date on my current adventure, I took Mosey back in time to meet my hero, Sherlock Holmes in order to get him to teach me how to be a master detective like he is. At first I couldn’t find 221B Baker Street. But then I got directions to where some guy named Doyle lived who knew Holmes. Turns out my hero isn’t flesh and blood. Rather he’s a fictional character in a mystery series written by Arthur Conan Doyle who killed him off right before I arrived in 1894. I know, I’m as shocked as you are.

I then met the real brains behind Sherlock Holmes: Doyle’s muse Fergus, a Bedlington Whippet cross who agreed to teach me how to solve mysteries like Holmes did. Unfortunately, Mosey and Fergus got into a fight and Mosey fled, not only the house, but the century, leaving me stuck in 1894. I wasn’t too worried at first, figuring he’d come back for me, but then my mom came to me while I was sleeping and told me Opie and Jack were having a hard time reconnecting me to Mosey. It looked pretty bad for me. I could be stuck in 1894 forever!

I’d made a very bad mistake. I should have never taken Mosey back to find my hero alone, without Dori. I told Fergus about my last case, called Welcome Home.  How my family blamed me for Patty Kiss setting our home on fire.  I didn’t want to be a purranormal detective anymore. I wanted to go home. I wanted my old life back. And I told Fergus about how that actually happened. I woke up back in my office in our old home, and thought everything I’d been through had been a dream. I also told him that I was suspicious of Dori and the others trying to make it seem like I was back to where I’d been before my first case, waiting for the phone to ring. Like I’d dreamed everything.

Fergus said, “You got what you wished for. You were returned to your old life, before you received your first purranormal case. So why did you time travel here? Especially if you wanted your old life back?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but then had to think about it. “I… I guess I got caught up in the idea of having a second chance to be successful. I didn’t like that I’d failed. Was a failure as a detective. I wanted to find Sherlock Holmes and have him teach me his secrets so I could start over and this time be a success.”

“Do you have any opinions on how you were able to have your old life back?”

“I’m thinking Charley, my Guardian Angel, had something to do with it. He always wanted me to be a success. But he also knew I was struggling. Maybe he got purrrmission to send me back to the beginning. Before I started to fail.”

“It would require a lot of energy to send—not only you, but your entire family back to the beginning.”

“Energy?”

“Emotion.”

“Oh, there was a lot of emotion going on that last night. Seeing your home on fire, and fearing for someone to die will do that to you.”

“I’m certain that’s why your family was so upset. Especially your mum. They yelled because they were frightened.”

“But they blamed me for Patty Kiss torching our house!”

Fergus shrugged. “Maybe the emotion had to be directed at you, in order for you to return to the beginning. But your mum found you here with me when Mosey’s connection to you was broken. That tells me she isn’t upset with you any more.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Everything Fergus said made sense. Charley had found a way to take me back to the beginning before my first case. And then I got it in my head that I wanted a second chance, which led me to being stuck here in the past. Maybe forever!

I was just about ready for another good cry when Fergus sat up with his ears perked and his head quirked to one side. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he trotted to the door and looked into the front hall. There he woofed, making me hurry to join him.

I gasped at what I saw.

“Hwermie! It’s me. Dori!”

I wept as she scampered into my arms, and I held her tight. Over her shoulder I saw Mosey roll back to the front door, away from Fergus. Just to make sure Dori didn’t get her connection to Mosey severed as well, I said to the dog, “Sit! Stay!” And he obeyed.

“I’ve been so worried about yoo,” Dori wept. “Chawley couldn’t find yoo. And then Mom said she found you, but couldn’t bwing yoo home cuz Mosey bwoke yoor connection.” She growled at my Gen7Pets ride, “Bad Mosey! Bad! Bad!”

As Mosey swiveled to push his nose into the corner, I said, “Don’t blame him, Dori. It wasn’t his fault. He was just scared.” I went to wrap my arms around my beloved Ride. He moved out of my reach. “I’m not going to hurt you, Mosey. Stand still. I want to hug you.” Mosey again lurched forward. I tried again and again, literally chasing him all over the front hall, with Mosey always out of my reach.

I finally looked at Dori. “Opie and Jack didn’t find a way to reconnect me to Mosey, did they?”

Her eyes brimmed with tears. “The sectors are damaged. There is no way to wepair yoor connection. Yoo have to be back home in order for yoo to weconnect to Mosey.”

I heard my Ride whimpering like a puppy. I was frightened, but I didn’t blame him and told him so. Then another thought came to me. “You’ve come to say goodbye to me, like Mom did.”

“Good bye? Never! I’ve come to wescue yoo.”

“If I can’t go near Mosey, how do you think I’m going to return to 2017?”

“Don’t worry, Hwermie. Leave it up to me. I’ve got it all figgered out.” She scampered to push Mosey into the drawing room.

“You look worried,” Fergus whispered in my ear.

My sigh reached all the way down to my soul. “You don’t know her like I do.”

His laughter sounded like a hoarse cough. “She’s barely out of kittenhood. How much trouble could she cause?”

A loud crash in the drawing room made me cringe. I then covered my ears as Mrs. Gray arrived to shriek over a precious 17th century blown glass vase.

With my tail between my legs, I went to inspect the damage. “Will there be more like her coming in the pram?” Mrs. Gray asked. “If so, I insist you stay in the library, on the floor. No jumping on the tables like a pack of wild monkeys.”

As usual, Dori seemed oblivious of the broken tchokes. “Come here, doggy,” she said to Fergus. “Help me get this out.” She pulled at something in Mosey’s secret compartment. A sheet of cardboard.

“What’s this for?” I asked. Then I saw it was a folded Chewy.com box.

“Wemember when I asked if yoo knew where babies come from? Yoo said storks. But I knew better. Yes, storks are involved, but they deliver babies that come from Chewy.com.”

I glanced at Fergus who was trying to follow the conversation, but was clearly confused. I took a moment to explain what Chewy.com was, and then I had to further explain ‘dot com’ which led to a lengthy exposition on computers and 21st Century technology. By then we were all exhausted and needed a nap.

When we woke up I asked Dori, “What does a Chewy box have to do with getting me home?”

Dori began to assemble the cardboard into it’s box shape. “Simple, Hwermie. Yoo get into the box, and I bwing yoo home.”

“But Mosey moves away when I approach him.”

Dori gestured to the box. “Get in.”

I tried to hop inside, but the damp, soggy English weather had seeped into my old bones and I struggled. Finally Dori tipped the box on its side, I walked in, and she flipped the lid closed. I heard her ask Mrs. Gray for help. I felt the box leave the floor, but then I was jiggled around as Mrs. Gray chased after Mosey. She finally placed the box on the floor and I rolled out. “It’s not going to work, Dori.”

Instead of tears I saw determination on her pretty face. “It’s going to work, Hwermie. I’m gonna get yoo home. Or I’m staying here with yoo. Yoor my brofur and bestest furend. I’m never gonna leave yoo.”

READ THE CONCLUSION OF SHERLOCK HERMS MASTER DETECTIVE

If you like what you’re reading, here are more stories by Kimberley Koz and Herman, her mews:

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Sherlock Herms Master Detective – Part 8

Previously on Sherlock Herms: The Making of a Master Detective…

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

When Mosey had that fight with Fergus and zoomed without me back to the future, he’d broken our connection, inadvertently erasing my presence in 2017. Like I’d never existed! But me and my mom have a soulmate connection and she’d found me. She’d appeared to me looking like a red laser light, and said Jack and Opie were busy working to reconnect me to Mosey. But until they did… I would remain in 1894.

In order to distract me from totally fweaking out, I’d asked Fergus to teach me how to solve cases like Doyle wrote for Sherlock Holmes. Fergus was a Bedlington Whippet cross. He’s also the real brains behind the Sherlock Holmes detective mysteries. (I know, I’m as shocked as you that my hero is a legend of fiction and not a living breathing detective).

I didn’t know if I had the attention span, much less the desire to learn about the detective biz, but I was despurrrate to keep my mind busy on something other than the fact that I might never see my Mom or Dori ever again.

“A detective of Sherlock Holmes’ caliber continuously analyzes the details and looks for clues to possible solutions,” Fergus told me. “When Holmes goes about the business of searching for clues, he treats them like a puzzle with a missing piece, going to great lengths to find that missing piece so he can then move on to the next level of success.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Not at all. I can break it down into simple steps for you.”

We moved to Doyle’s office with the door closed so Mrs. Gray wouldn’t disturb us while Fergus recited the “simple” steps Doyle used to make Sherlock Holmes a Master Detective.

“Pay attention to the details, especially what might first appear to be insignificant,” Fergus was saying. “When you begin a case, start with the basics of what you already know to be certain, without question or exaggeration. Be alert when you’re talking to someone, yet behave in a passive manner so as not to influence the subject into elaboration.”

I know this was important stuff he was telling me, but his flat, Ben Stein-like monotone made it hard for me to keep my eyes open. Clearly he found it as boring to say as it was for me to hear.

“Give yourself distance from the case. Do not allow it to monopolize your every waking thought because invariably you will lose focus. Talk out loud when you’re putting the puzzle pieces together. It helps for someone else to hear your thoughts as they may be able to point out a discrepancy or dispute a train of thought. Take time to quiet your thoughts. It is amazing how clarity comes with rest. Manage your energy—”

I held up a paw. “Wait. Fergus. This is all too much for me to absorb. It’s… boring!”

“Of course it is,” Fergus said. “It’s how humans think. Why do you want to detect like a human? They’re inferior compared to us.”

“Inferior? In what way?”

“We have superior instincts. Superior senses. Super sight, smell, hearing, feeling. We can smell the suspect. Can see in the dark. Before you said any thing I could tell by the number and length of your yawns that you thought the method Doyle used to write Sherlock Holmes was boring. I told Doyle to give Holmes animal instincts, but he said our readers would never believe a super human detective. I strongly advise that you’ll be far more successful as a detective if you be yourself. Not a lesser than of someone else.”

“That sounds logical, but I haven’t been doing too good as a detective using my own senses.”

“I strongly urge you to reconsider trying to detect like a human, Herman. If it wasn’t for me encouraging Doyle to supply Holmes with superior senses, I dare say the master detective would never have reached the fame he found.”

This is when I asked for paper and a purrple crayon. Fergus didn’t know what a crayon was, so I used a pencil instead to take notes.

“Holmes used all of his senses in a way that no living breathing human ever does. But we four-legs always do. Holmes could tell the scent of white jessamine from seventy-five other perfumes, said to be necessary for a criminal expert to be able to distingue from each other. While you don’t need to go and memorize the smell of seventy-five perfumes, be aware that our senses will always come into play when we are on a case. Before you use hearsay and human logic when fitting the pieces of a puzzle together, first rely your animal instincts. We can smell differences, see differences, hear differences that humans cannot. If Doyle had gone with my original idea of making Sherlock Holmes a Bedlington Whippet cross, I dare say the detective would have been famous for at least ten more years.”

“Ten years? Fergus, he’s still the world’s most famous detective in 2017.”

“Really?”

“They’ve made movies about him, and TV shows. Hoomons dress up like him for Halloween. He’s still a big deal.”

“I have no idea what TV or movies are, or Halloween. But if you tell me they’re honoring my detective one hundred and twenty three years into the future, then I am very happy.  You say you’ve been struggling. Tell me about your last case.”

“Well…after our home in the south got infested with demons, we’d moved north to a town called Welcome Home. There I met a pretty ghost named Dottie Kiss who loved to wear polka dots and had been murdered by her sister, Patty who buried her in a grave with their grandmother, Violet. When confronted with proof Patty retaliated by setting our new home on fire. Everyone blamed me!

“’This is your fault, Sherlock,’ Dad yelled. ‘If you hadn’t poked your pink nose into Patty Kiss’s business, our home wouldn’t be on fire. You’re responsible for this.’ And then my sisfur Peaches said, ‘You took playing detective too far. What a failure you are, Herman.’

“I’d buried my face in my paws while all around me were the sounds of my life going up in flames. ‘I never meant for this to happen,’ I told my family. ‘I didn’t want to be a purranormal detective, but everyone said I had to help Dottie.’ But my brofur Frank growled at me. He said, ‘You’re a failure. Because of you we are now homeless!’

“And then my sisfur Dori cried, ‘We are homeless. All because of yoo, Hwermie. All because of yoo!’

“But the worst part was hearing my mom say, ‘All because of you, Herman.’ Hearing her voice heavy with grief hurt me the mostest. Sobbing my little heart out, I then ran to Charley Feeble. He’s my Guardian Angel and mentor. I remember sobbing, ‘The h-house is b-burning and everyone blames me. I didn’t know Patty would b-burn the house down. I didn’t know.’ I’d pawed away my tears to look into his eyes, but what I saw wasn’t the kind squinty Charley eyes I’d come to know and love. Now his eyes were hard and angry. ‘It is your fault,’ he told me. ‘You messed up. You put your family in danger.’

“’But I didn’t mean to,’ I yowled, heartbroken that my mentor had also turned on me. ‘Oh Charley. Not you too. Everyone is mad at me. Nobody loves me any more.’ I remembered as my family and Charley surrounded me with mad faces, I’d hid my face in my paws, crying, ‘This is a nightmare! A horrible, horrible nightmare!’ I felt a kick to my shins and with a gasp I stared into the squinty eyes of my sweet little sister, Dori. ‘Just like hoomons…you dissy-point me,’ she said as she kicked me again, and punched my arm. ‘Yoo did a bad thing, Hwermie. Bad, Hwermie!’

“She started to kick me again, but then I fell backwards into a deep dark pit. There I lay looking up at the stormy sky at the top of the pit with the faces of my family crowded around the opening, and I realized I was not alone. I was inside the grave with Violet and Dottie, and both were wearing mad faces.

“Violet said, ‘You are a failure as a hardboiled detective. There is no grit in your blood.’ And Dottie agreed. She said, ‘You are a bad kitty. You let me down. Now I will never find the Light.’

“‘I’m sorry,” I told them all. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt anybody!’ But then Dori kicked dirt down into the pit on top of me. ‘Bad bad, Hwermie!’ she growled, breaking my heart. ‘I didn’t want to be a purranormal detective’ I sobbed as my family joined Dori in kicking dirt on top of me. ‘I want to go home. I want my old life back. I want my old life back!’”

By now I was sobbing hard into my paws. I didn’t care that I cried in front of Fergus. I still didn’t understand why my family had turned on me. I didn’t know Patty Kiss was going to set our home on fire. That I was now stuck in the past because Mosey left this century without me, and that I might never be able to go home again made me sob even harder. I’d never get the chance to apologize to my family. I’d never get to understand why they blamed me for what Patty did.

I felt gentle hands lift me from the floor. I don’t like being picked up, but Mrs. Gray held me against her bosom and rocked me. My mom used to do the same thing when I was upset. I wrapped my paws around Mrs. Gray’s neck, and buried my face against her chest, just like I always did with Mom. Finally, when I was all cried out, she carried me downstairs with Fergus trotting beside her. She put me on his bed, and patted my head saying she would make us both a nice cuppa—whatever that was.

Then Fergus settled beside me, and awkwardly licked tears from my face. “You’ve been through a great tragedy, being abandoned by your family. I dare say it’s a good thing you are now here, away from them. They sound horrible!”

“Oh! No, not horrible at all. They’re a wonderpurr family. Except maybe for Opie, but he and I have been getting along better since I asked him to join my Wonderpurr Detective Agency. He’s always been jealous of me. No. I miss my family very much.”

“I don’t understand, Herman. They blamed you for something you had no control over. We four-legs are superior in all ways, but even we cannot understand the peculiar complexities that is the human mind.”

Mrs. Gray brought in a tray with the fancy rose-painted china bowls filled with lukewarm tea, and a plate of what she called biscuits. They were good. They reminded me of cookies.

While we ate Fergus said, “Your cries when your family kicked dirt on top of you bother me.”

I licked sugar sprinkles off my cookie. “Yeah, they bothered me too.”

“No. I mean, what you said. You didn’t want to be a purranormal detective. You wanted to go home. You wanted your old life back.”

I stopped licking. “Yeah. And that kinda happened.” I told Fergus about how I woke up back in my office in our old home, and thought everything I’d been through had been a dream. And about how Dori and the others were trying to make it seem like I was back to where I’d been before my first case, waiting for the phone to ring. Like I’d dreamed everything. “Except… Dori started singing her Purrrple Underpants song, and right then I realized they were trying to fool me. Dori never sang that song until my Mrs. Shallowford’s Ghost case.”

“I dare say, you’ve had some enthuzimuzzy types of cases. Dancing Ghosts!  Mrs. Shallowford’s Ghosts!

“The case called Heaven Can Wait is where we lost our home cuz Dori let a fakey type TV celebrity ghost hunter called Ghost Guy into our house, and he infested it with demons.”

“Brilliant!” Fergus howled.

“You wouldn’t think so if you’d been dragged down inside an Ouija board.”

Fergus’s long pink tongue lapped soppily to one side. “My master will be so excited to meet you. He’s a believer in the spirit world.”

“He can have it,” I growled. “I wasn’t too good at it. Dori was, however. I think ghosts were attracted to her, and because she’s my partner, that’s why we got purranormal cases to solve.”

Fergus finished his biscuit, and then his cuppa. “You didn’t want to be a purranormal detective. You wanted to go home. You wanted your old life back. And that’s what happened. You got what you wished for. You were returned to your old life, before you received your first purranormal case. Some would say that was a Miracle.”

“But, look what’s happened to me now!”

“Why did you time travel here? Especially if you wanted your old life back?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but then had to think about it. “I… I guess I got caught up in the idea of having a second chance to be successful. I didn’t like that I’d failed. Was a failure as a detective. I wanted to find my hero, Sherlock Holmes, and have him teach me his secrets so I could start over and this time be a success.”

“Do you have any opinions on how you were able to have your old life back?”

“I’m thinking Charley, my Guardian Angel, had something to do with it. He always wanted me to be a success. But he also knew I was struggling. Maybe he got purrrmission to send me back to the beginning. Before I started to fail.”

“It would require a lot of energy to send—not only you, but your entire family back to the beginning.”

“Energy?”

“Emotion.”

“Oh, there was a lot of emotion going on that last night. Seeing your home on fire, and fearing for someone to die will do that to you.”

“I’m sure that’s why your family was so upset. Especially your mom. They yelled because they were frightened.”

“But they blamed me for Patty Kiss torching our house!”

Fergus shrugged. “Maybe the emotion had to be directed at you, in order for you to return to the beginning. But your mom found you here with me when Mosey’s connection to you was broken. That tells me she isn’t upset with you any more.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Everything Fergus said made sense. Charley had found a way to take me back to the beginning before my first case. And then I got it in my head that I wanted a second chance, which led me to being stuck here in the past. Maybe forever!

I was just about ready for another good cry when Fergus sat up with his ears perked and his head quirked to one side. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he trotted to the door and looked into the front hall. There he woofed, making me hurry to join him.

I gasped at what I saw.

“Hwermie! It’s me. Dori!”

I wept as she scampered into my arms, and I held her tight. Over her shoulder I saw Mosey roll back to the front door, away from Fergus. Just to make sure Dori didn’t get her connection to Mosey severed as well, I said to the dog, “Sit! Stay!” And he obeyed.

“I’ve been so worried about yoo,” Dori wept. “Chawley couldn’t find yoo. And then Mom said she found you, but couldn’t bwing yoo home cuz Mosey bwoke yoor connection.” She glared at my Gen7Pets ride and hissed, “Bad Mosey! Bad! Bad!”

As Mosey swiveled to push his nose into the corner, I said, “Don’t blame him, Dori. It wasn’t his fault. He was just scared.” I went to wrap my arms around my beloved Ride. He moved out of my reach. “I’m not going to hurt you, Mosey. Stand still. I want to hug you.” Mosey again lurched forward. I tried again and again, literally chasing him all over the front hall, with Mosey always out of my reach.

I finally looked at Dori. “Opie and Jack didn’t find a way to reconnect me to Mosey, did they?”

Her eyes brimmed with tears. “The sectors are damaged. There is no way to wepair yoor connection. Yoo have to be back home in order for yoo to weconnect to Mosey.”

I heard my Ride whimpering like a puppy. I was frightened, but I didn’t blame him and told him so. Then another thought came to me. “You’ve come to say goodbye to me, like Mom did.”

“Good bye? Never! I’ve come to wescue yoo.”

“If I can’t go near Mosey, how do you think I’m going to return to 2017?”

“Don’t worry, Hwermie. Leave it up to me. I’ve got it all figgered out.” She scampered over to Mosey to push him into the drawing room.

“You look worried,” Fergus whispered in my ear.

My sigh reached all the way down to my soul. “You don’t know her like I do.”

His laughter sounded like a hoarse cough. “She’s barely out of kittenhood. How much trouble could she cause?”

A loud crash in the drawing room made me cringe. I then covered my ears as Mrs. Gray arrived to shriek over a precious 17th century blown glass vase.

READ MASTER DETECTIVE PART 9

Pals! I hope you enjoyed today’s episode. Sherlock Herms Purranormal Mysteries will be on holiday for the next two weeks, but we’ll be back on December 1st.

In the meantime, I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving filled with lots of turkey noms and yummy punkin pie. I feel extremely thankful to have furends like you to support me, through thick and thin… I’m so blessed to know all of you.

And now…here’s Dori with her Thanksgiving Song:

If you like what you’re reading, here are more stories by Kimberley Koz and Herman, her mews:

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Sherlock Herms Master Detective – Part 7

Previously on Sherlock Herms: The Making of a Master Detective…

Part 1.   Part 2.   Part 3.   Part 4.  Part 5.  Part 6.

“I am happy to answer your questions, Fergus. But I traveled here to learn about being a Master Detective from Sherlock Holmes, and you said you’d share your secrets with me.”

“With your time machine gone, we have all the time in the world.”

“I don’t think so. I’m worried, but not fweaked out. I think Mosey will return for me.”

“Is fweaked out similar to being balmy on the crumpet? You Time Travelers have strange words for everything! Do they still use the heliograph in your time? Has miasma been eliminated? Tell me they still make roly-poly in the future! I do so love roly-poly.”

Closing my eyes, I placed my chin on top of my paws. Charlie! Please hear me. I need you to rescue me. I don’t want to be stuck in 1894. I can’t eat their noms. I have a delicate tummy. And I don’t want to widdle in the flower bed, or learn a whole new language!”

As sleep threaded its way through my body, Fergus’s voice faded and the shade on the inside of my eyelids went from firey-orange to torpor-black.

I found myself in a dark place with no light…cuz it was dark. I felt a soft rug under my paws, and the space wasn’t hot or cold…just right. At first I didn’t smell anything, but then something familiar found its way into my nose and I breathed in deep.

“Charlie?” I whispurred. “Is that you?”

The smell grew stronger. I took comfort from its familiarity. Then I saw a tiny red light in the darkness, hurling toward me. And when it arrived it was still no bigger than a pin point laser, darting back and forth in an enticing way that made me want to spring from my crouch to catch it.

“Herman? Oh, Herman! I’m so relieved I’ve found you.”

“Mom? Mom! Is that you?”

“It’s me, Monkey Boy! I’ve been worried sick ever since Mosey returned without you.”

“I want to come home. Tell Mosey to come get me.”

The red dot settled on top of my left paw. “First, tell me how you got separated.”

“Mosey got into a fight with Fergus, this dog who lives with a guy named Doyle. Did you know Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character in a book? I’m still in shock. I—”

“Herman! Focus! This is important. Charlie tried to come, but you went back in time before he was born and he’s unable to reach you. It is my love for you that has made this communication possible. But I don’t know how long I have. I need to know what happened.”

“Sorry. Mosey and Fergus got into a fight, and then Mosey zoomed out the door and disappeared. Is he all right? When is he coming back for me?”

Mom’s red dot sighed. “When Mosey returned to your office, it sent every one of us into a panic over what happened to you. Jack and Opie tried to read the coordinates from Mosey’s control panel to find out where you’d been, but… They were erased.”

“Erased?”

“Jack thinks it happened when Mosey left this century without you.”

“Well, you know where I am now, so send him to come get me.”

“I wish it was that simple.”

Mom’s tone sent shivers up and down my spine. “What’s wrong?”

“For now…Mosey isn’t able to return for you. Like I said, when he left, he broke your connection. You are not… You—You don’t exist in 2017 anymore.”

I just about choked on a hairball. “What the Friskies!!!”

Mom’s red dot shook, and I heard tears in her voice. “Jack and Opie are busy working to reconnect your connection to Mosey, but until they do… Until we figure out another way… You will remain in 1894.”

I felt cold. So cold. Like I was sitting on an iceberg in the middle of Russia’s Sea of Okhotsk. “I can’t come home?”

“Please be brave for me, Hermie.”

I wanted to sob into my paws, but I would be brave for my Mom’s sake. Even if it killed me—which it was.

“I love you, Monkey Boy. No matter how many years separate us, you will always be the best part of me. I’m so honored that you chose to spend your life with me.”

Tears poured down my whiskers. “No, I’m honored that you wanted me. I was lost and scared. But you rescued me. You gave me a Forever Home beyond my dreams. The best part of my whole life was sitting in your lap in the car, looking at the trucks zooming by. And going to Blogpaws. Flying in the airplane. Walking the red carpet. Meeting my pals in purrrson.”

“I am so proud of you, Herms. I couldn’t have written Finding Mya without you. Or any of my other books. Our other books. You are the most excellent mews a writer could ask for. Thank you for all the years you inspired me.”

We sobbed together for a long time, our hearts broken. “I’m scared, Mama,” I finally whispurred. “I know you want me to be brave, but… This feels like the end.”

Mom sobbed harder. I did too.

“I will love you forever, Herman. You are, and always will be, my mews and my Soulmate.” And then she was gone.

Our connection had broken.

I awoke beside Fergus on his bed. The room felt cold. Maybe I would never feel warm again. My heart throbbed with grief. If Jack and Opie couldn’t find a way to reconnect Mosey and me, and bring me home…

Numbed by fear, I stared into the dying fire.

The next morning Mrs. Gray served Fergus and me in the too bright room with windows overlooking the rear garden. The noms had strange names. Bangers and Mash. Bubble and Squeak. Black Pudding. Tattie Scones. As vile as it was, I already missed my Hills K/D Chicken and Vegetable Stew.

“I hope you are feelin’ better this morn,” said Mrs. Gray as she poured cooled tea into fancy, rose-painted china bowls.  “I heard you fair bawlin’ and greetin’ like a wee bairn long into the night.”

I pushed a Banger into a Squeak, unable to nom anything without fear of it coming back up my throat. After Mrs. Gray left the room Fergus said, “I know you’ve got the morbs about what happened. I want to apologize again for getting into a collie shangle with your buggy.”

I stopped pretending I had an interest in the food on the plate. “You promised to teach me your secrets on how to detect like Sherlock Holmes.” Not that it really mattered anymore. If I couldn’t get back home, the Wonderpurr Detective Agency would close up shop.

“And I will,” Fergus reassured. “Right after I’ve devoured my Bags o’ Mystery.”

“Fergus! It’s bad enough that I’m possibly stuck in this century without my mom for the rest of my life, much less looking at noms that I have no idea what’s in them. Speak English! Half the time I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Fergus pointed to the sausages on his plate. Bag’s o’ Mystery, because no man but the maker knows what is in them. The ‘bag’ refers to the gut which contain the chopped meat.”

“In my time that’s called Mystery Meat. Burger patties, chicken nuggets. Spam. Salisbury steaks, sausages. Hot dogs. Usually used in reference to food served in prisons or public school cafeterias.”

Fergus devoured his breakfast, and after licking the plate he invited me outside to water the bushes. The November winds were building steam, so we returned to his bed in front of the fireplace, replenished with aged logs that snapped, crackled and popped much like the breakfast cereal that wouldn’t make its public debut for another thirty-four years.

“Can you teach me to solve cases like Doyle wrote for Sherlock Holmes?” I asked. I didn’t know if I had the attention span, much less the desire to learn about the detective biz, but I was despurrrate to keep my mind busy on something other than the fact that I might never see my Mom or Dori ever again.

“A detective of Sherlock Holmes’ caliber continuously analyzes the details and looks for clues to possible solutions,” Fergus told me. “When Holmes goes about the business of searching for clues, he treats them like a puzzle with a missing piece, going to great lengths to find that missing piece so he can then move on to the next level of success.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Not at all. I can break it down into nine steps for you.” He opened his mouth right then in a wide yawn, and I knew I’d have to wait until after our breakfast nap to hear anything more.

READ SHERLOCK HERMS MASTER DETECTIVE PART 8

If you like what you’re reading, here are more stories by Kimberley Koz and Herman, her mews:

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