A Conversation Betwixt Two Nano-Victorian's

Famous detective Mycroft Doyle sat alone in his Study one cool autumn eve. He was wearing his normal lounging clothes: A red smoking jacket over his brown woolen pants and white dress shirt. Mycroft was a tall lanky man with piercing grey eyes and a two day growth of stubble across his cheeks.
The great man was feeling a little down, there were no cases with which he could occupy his prodigious mind. He had recently recovered the Queen's personal data storage gems, but the adulation and excitement from that were both beginning to wind down. As a result Mycroft had taken some pills, given to him by his loyal robot Botson, and was now hoping that the effects would soon take his mind to a better place.
It was at this moment that his amazing, and technologically altered, hearing picked up a small squeak coming from the next room, his bedroom. The squeak in question had sounded very much like the small sound his bedroom window made when opened. But that seemed unlikely as they were on the second floor and more over, no one would be fool enough to break into the quarters of a man of Mycroft's status.
Mycroft leaped up from his leather bound wing-back chair and raced from the study, almost knocking loyal Botson to the ground in the process.
“The game is afoot Doyle.” Said Botson in his monotone robotic voice as Mycroft raced past him.
Mycroft entered the bedroom his slippers scuffing the floor as he rounded the corner in haste. To the casual observer the room would indeed appear undisturbed, but Mycroft saw it all: The layer of dust that had been disturbed by the window, the small orange hairs sitting on the floor in a path between window and closet, and, strangest of all, the roll that had been served to him, and left untouched, at dinner was missing.
Then he heard the sound, a small, secretive, sneaky sound emanating from the closet. As if some stealthy individual were shifting position to view Mycroft's movements better. Doyle picked up his walking stick from the umbrella stand by the door and drew the hidden blade from its depths. With a snicker-snack it emerged to it's full length and Mycroft held it before him in a classic fencer's pose.
“Whomever is in there had best show themselves.” Mycroft's voice sounded calm and assured but he was having trouble containing his excitement. “I do not wish to put holes in my door.”
The door opened slowly and what at first appeared to be a young red haired girl in a simple, blue frock stepped out. But Mycroft looked closer and suddenly the illusion was pierced. What stood before him was no simple girl but rather a five foot tall humanoid cat person. It was covered head to toe in orange fur and its tail swished behind it through the skirts of the frock. It had bright green cat eyes and sharp little teeth. It had his uneaten dinner roll in its mouth and was slowly chewing on it as it watched Mycroft. But rather than a predatory animalistic glare in its eyes it instead looked afraid. Mycroft found it so ridiculous that the strange and monstrous creature that stood before him was afraid of him and not the other way around that he lowered his sword.
“I don't want to fight.” The creature said speaking in the voice of the normal teenaged girl she had at first appeared to be. The words came out in a rush one following the next as if they could scarcely wait to leave the girl's mouth. “I was sleeping on the roof across the way and I saw the bread just sitting there. I was so hungry. I didn't think you'd miss it. I'm sorry you can have it back.” She held out the gnawed on bit of roll and her feline mouth moved upwards in a tentative smile.
“No Miss.” Mycroft said bowing slightly but never moving his eyes from her. “You may keep it. I was finished with it anyway and would not dream of depriving such a wondrous creature of it's nightly repast.”
At the word 'creature' the girl's eyes widened. “You can see me? I mean the really REAL me?” Mycroft nodded in reply. “Oh no. No no no no no. This is not good. Father said not to tell anyone, not never and too many people know already at first it was just Harry but now I think Malcolm knows and that shooty guy and maybe the OTHER shooty guy. You aren't gonna tell the Science Police are you? Or try to experiment on me?” As she finished speaking she shoved the last of the roll in her mouth and chewed with a worried expression on her strange face.
“No dear lady I will not experiment on you and I don't have much use for the constabulary myself so I will not call them.” The girl's muscles immediately relaxed by a small fraction, a movement someone without Mycroft's impressive skills would never have noticed. “A true gentleman would never do such a thing, not even to a young lady as unusual as yourself. Ah, but the excitement of our encounter has caused me to forget my manners. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the great Mycroft Doyle. Surely you've heard of me?” The girl stared blankly back, no sign of recognition on her face. “Mycroft Doyle? The greatest detective of our age? The man who solved the Seraphim Murder Scandal? The man who saved the Duke of Brockton? The man who caught the Copley Square Strangler?”
“I don't get out much Mr. Doyle, sorry.”
Mycroft frowned slightly but he went on sure she would have heard something of him. “Most intelligent man of the century according to the Boston Herald? Descended from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle the writer of the Sherlock Holmes novels?”
At this the girl's face lit up. “I have heard of him! My father gave me all Sherlock Holmes' adventures.”
Mycroft made a small harrumph sound but persevered. “Well I am much like Holmes only not fictional.”
The girl grinned widely at this, but Doyle could tell she was careful to show none of her sharp teeth even as she did it. “That must be very exciting!”
“Yes. It is.” Mycroft said relieved that she at last understood how very grand he was. “And you dear girl what is your name?”
“Mostly everyone calls me Fe. My father called me Felis Sapien though. So I guess my whole name is Felis Sapien Black.”
“Pleased to meet you Miss Black.” Mycroft said bowing slightly again. “Can I get you anything? Perhaps you'd like to sit by the fire? Or I could get you more food?”
Her bright green eyes lit up at the mention of food. “I am awfully hungry Mr. Doyle.”
“Well then! Come this way and we will get you settled while I have my loyal companion make us something to nibble on.” Mycroft led the girl into his study and to a comfortable chair near the fire. “Botson be a good chap and fetch up some of that roast beef I have in the icebox downstairs.”
“Mycroft that is an astounding plan!” Botson said before clanking out of the room and down to the kitchen.
“So who is this Harry fellow? A friend of yours? Or did you mean hairy like…a creature with much hair?”
“Harry's not a fellow! She's a woman! And my best friend in the whole world! She helps me out and tries to keep me out of trouble and gets me food and stuff. She makes stuff and is really political, I don't even understand some of the stuff she says to me when she is being political.”
“I see. And the others? These 'shooty' gentlemen you referred to? Or this Malcolm chap?”
“Malcolm is nice. I think. He seems to want to help us anyway. And Harry likes him. I don't really know the other guys too good. They like guns but they didn't try to hurt me so I didn't try to hurt them.”
“How could such a frail young lady such as you hurt two armed men?” Mycroft asked scoffingly.
“I'm pretty strong.” Fe replied flexing a thin arm at Mycroft. “Way stronger than I look.”
“I see.” Mycroft replied as Botson clanked back into the room holding a tray of uncooked roast beef topped with a single sprig of parsley. “Botson you fool you should've heated it! Who eats raw…” Mycroft was shocked into silence as the girl picked up a large slab of raw meat and began to chew.
“Thanks Mr. Robot. Its just how I like it.” She reached out a thin hand and patted Botson on the head.
“Ah…well.” said Mycroft temporarily at a loss for words. “Ah I meant to ask, how ever did you get up here? Can you fly?”
“No don't be silly. Harry can though she has an AeroVelociraptor! No. I climbed. I've got these!” As she spoke Fe held forth her hand and five small sharp claws popped from the end of her human shaped hand. Mycroft paled slightly upon seeing them, “Plus like I said I'm pretty strong.”
“How strong exactly?” Doyle asked ignoring the plate of beef that Botson had placed on the table betwixt Fe and himself. Fe responded by stuffing the last of the meat in her hand into her mouth and glancing around the room. She then stood and picked up Botson, a very heavy model medical/assistant bot, in one hand and the large leather arm chair she had been sitting in in the other. She did this with no visible strain as a normal person would pick up a discarded piece of paper off the floor.
“Doyle that's astounding!” Botson remarked as the tiny young girl held him aloft.
“Indeed.” Doyle said trying not to sound as impressed as he felt. “You are quite a bit stronger than you at first appear.”
Fe shrugged and put down both the chair and the robot. Then she picked up another piece of raw meat and began chewing on it as she returned to her seat. “Father wanted me to be able to take care of myself and be safe, so he made me real strong and tough.”
“Made you? So he isn't…like you? I mean to say is he fully human?”
“Yeah. Well he was. He was a scientist. Dr. Aleister Black a great scientist. Though the paper never wrote anything about him.”
“Perhaps they should have.” Doyle said looking at the strange girl curiously. “You keep using the past tense. What happened to Dr. Black?”
“Someone killed him.” Fe said sounding sad. Mycroft detected a tear slipping from her eye and into her fur. Despite the bloody meat hanging from her mouth he could not help but feel for the young lady.
“I am a great detective perhaps I could help you find the killer and bring them to justice?”
“I already know who did it. I've got her scent. And I'm not bringing her to 'justice' I'm gonna rip her legs off and beat her to death with them.” The girls eyes went from sad and tear filled to full of rage in a flash.
“An appropriate response.” Mycroft said with a shrug slightly put off by the sudden appearance of her anger. “I suppose you are not a good person to have as an enemy.”
“No.” Fe said her anger beginning to seep away. “But you don't have to worry. You're a nice man and you gave me food and I like your robot friend.” She patted Botson on the head again. He let out a contented series of beeps. Then she let out a wide mouthed yawn exposing her many fangs to Mycroft. She stopped and placed a dainty hand before her mouth. “Sorry, I'm getting sleepy. I should go. Thank you for the food and the comfortable seat Mr. Doyle and you too Mr. Botson.” She stood smoothing the skirt of her frock as she prepared to leave.
“Perhaps you could stay here for tonight.” Mycroft said rising as well. “I have a spare room that Botson could make up for you and it would be impolite of me to make you go out in the cold on such a night as this. Besides you said you were sleeping on my neighbors roof? That does not sound like a place for a proper young lady such as you to sleep.”
Fe bit her lip in thought as if unsure if she should take him up on his offer. “I guess I could. It is awful cold out even if you have a fur coat.” She smiled to show she was making a joke and Doyle smiled politely in response.
“Excellent!” Mycroft responded clapping his hands together once. “Botson prepare the guest room for the young lady.”
“Capital Doyle.” Botson responded as he clanked out of the room.
“Thank you Mr. Botson.” Fe said as the robot left.

---

The next morning Mycroft Doyle awoke in his bed to the too bright sunlight invading his bedroom. He let out a sigh and threw his covers on the floor, covering Botson in the process. Botson let out a surprised whistle but otherwise did not complain. It was then that Mycroft remembered the previous evening's visitor. He threw himself excitedly from the bed and made his way quickly to the guest room. In his excitement to learn more of the strange young girl he almost forgot himself and threw the door open. Instead he took a moment to compose himself, fixed his hair in a convenient mirror and knocked politely at the door. There was no answer. Concerned for the girl's safety, and honestly just curious Doyle pushed open the guest room door. The bed was empty but freshly made, not in the military style that Botson employed when making it. Doyle stepped further into the room. Perhaps she was in the bathroom freshening up? But no the bathroom door stood ajar with no one inside.
From behind him Mycroft could hear Botson's metal feet stomping into the room. “Doyle!” The robot said pausing at the door to the guest room, “Mystery is afoot!”
Mycroft turned around curious as to what the robot could mean and saw a note stuck to Botson with a small refrigerator magnet. He strode across the room and snatched the note off of the robot's metal hull. It was written on a bar napkin from a place called PJ Sketchington's and was in a excited looking but still feminine script.
It read: “Dear Mr. Doyle and Mr. Botson. Thank you for your hospitality. I could not stay any longer and didn't want to wake you. I had to go because I don't like to leave Harry alone for too long. We protect each other you see. I hope we meet again one day.
Regards, Fe.
“Well Botson, it seems we have a new friend to track down. If she need protection we are honor bound to offer our services. Back to my room Botson we must get dressed. Mystery is in the air and the game is afoot!”
With that Doyle and Botson hurried from the room ready to start their next grand adventure.