Vital statistics
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| Author | Strataffin/ The Bird |
| Illustrator | -- Open -- |
| Published on | June 20th, 2015 |
| Published by | The one and only Bird |
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| N/A | TBA |
Ticktania Tockman: A Tale of Shadows is an original fan-fiction by Strataffin, inspired by Guy Ritchie's second Sherlock Holmes film.
It details the night before Minuette Dancer's wedding, and later, what Ticktania deems to be the their 'Final Case together'.
Chapter One: Miss Ticktania Tockman[]
The year was 2021. Storm clouds were brewing over Evereurope. France and Germany were at each others’ throats; the result of a series of bombings. Some said it was nationalists, others, the anarchists...
But, as usual, my friend, Ticktania Tockman, had a different theory entirely…
***
I had seen little of Ticktania lately.
The marriage proposal had drifted us away from each other. That is to say, my own sheer happiness, and the planning-centered interests which rise up around the girl that, shortly after she finds her fiance down on one knee, is entering a new Chapter of her tale and life, were more than enough to absorb all of my attention.
As I found myself drawn into the process, Ticktania, who loathed every form of community with her whole psuedo-Victorian soul, remained in her lodgings on Tollbooth Street, buried in old books and maps, alternating from week to week between languid, almost depressive drowsiness and boredom, and the fierce fire which boiled underneath the surface.
To put it bluntly, the darker, less desirable parts of her personality manifested themselves more frequently and intensely, while the more positive qualities seemed to ebb and recede on occasion.
Luckily, as near as I could tell, she was still deeply invested in her deductive dealings and crusade against ‘the criminal element’ as she used to say.
I heard talk of her exploits here and there: something about being called to Wonderland in the case of the Knave murders, clearing up a tragedy in relation to the tales of Swan Lake and Giselle (though I confess I never asked Belle about it), and something she accomplished for the reigning family of Romania.
It was the 9th of May when I decided to pay my long time friend a colleague a rather overdue visit, though I had spoke to her, stayed in contact with her her through letters, emails and the like. All too familiar with the residence thanks to our adventures shortly after our High School years, I found myself give a barely audible knock as I pushed through the doorway.
I saw that Mr. Arthur had, at least, kept control of the lower level, as the checkered floors gleamed with polish and the table and drawers that stood beside the hallway mirror did not appear to want much dusting. It was, in all honesty, exactly how I remembered leaving it that year-and-a-half ago.
“Mr. Arthur…?” I tried, slowly letting the dark oaken door swing shut behind me. “Ohhhh, Mr. Arthur?” There was a musical note within my voice, something about old memories resurfacing, a happy, exuberant burst of nostalgia. I was met with no answer, but elected not to dwell on the ground floor for very much longer; I was eager to finally SEE Ticktania, face-to-face, observe how my friend was ‘holding up’, as they say.
Nearly skipping up the stairs, I rounded the corner and gave a solid knock with the back of my knuckles.
“Tockman, you in there?” I said, trying to mask my voice for a moment. It was my intent to surprise my friend through trickery, as she had with her disguises almost weekly when we shared rooms.
I waited another moment. Still nothing. Again, I continued through the door without invitation, but I found myself giving a small, squeaking gasp as I was met with a peculiar sight: Ticktania’s room was in complete disarray, and a large portion was overrun with diverse, trans-Tale plants and shrubs. I knew Ticktania to have made a slight hobby of horticulture, but these plants appeared neither monitored nor cared for -- with her tendency to keep her room dark, it was a wonder that the plants could grow and evolve into this state.
I took a ginger step into the shadow of the flat, peering through the spaces in the leaves to try and catch a glimpse of my elusive friend. I felt far too much like an explorer on safari, but this was not the first odd situation I had been put in as a result of Ticktania’s actions.
A low, quiet rasp emanated from somewhere within. A canine growl from the future Watchdog. “Grrrrrrrrrehhhhh…. where am I…?” That was clearly HER voice, but I was determined not to let her scare me, not again.
“Ugh, Ticktania, I’m not going to play this game.” I continued forward towards the bright light of the window.
Ticktania’s giggling, hoarsely amused laugh was in my ear for a moment as I made my way to a chair, the one that I had sat in, laid claim to during our investigations. It was slightly… surprising, seeing as she’d kept it around.
“Remember, I have to catch the last…” My sentence was cut off by the slight sting of a paintball hitting my shoulder, a feeling I knew from those chaotic nights at Ever After High. I didn’t flinch, I was too well-versed in Ticktania’s peculiarities for that, I simply craned my neck and tried to observe the shot that had hit me. “... train.” I finished.
I sat down on the chair, plucking (from the cluttered side table) an unapologetically outdated dance magazine (the same one that I remember Ticktania buying for me during our first “Real Case”) and sat, flipping to an article I had re-read a hundred times over.
“You win.” I admitted. “I lose. Game Over.” I crossed my legs and decided I’d simply ignore her until she’d start acting normal… or, at the least, as close to normal as Ticktania could be.
Another paintball ripped through the pages, slashing out the face of one of the pictures within the magazine and ending its course near my collarbone.
“Still don’t see me.” Ticktania snickered. I folded down the top of the magazine, assuming my friend would be standing in front of me. Cackling, chuckling to herself, she emerged from… the wallpaper?
It took me longer than it should have to process the fact that Ticktania was wearing a bodysuit with a pattern identical to the wallpaper, and upon sliding from her hiding spot, she appeared rather like some enormous, dog-chameleon.
Paintball gun clutched in her hand, she pulled off the mask, revealing a familiar, reassuring face, even if her health appeared to be on the decline. Her hair had grown lankier and frizzier, eyes appearing to have sunken a bit, likely from lack of sleep --those deductions had rubbed off on me -- and her skin had grown paler. Luckily, the changes were not so drastic as to not recall the image of my friend, but I couldn’t help but notice that Ticktania looked a little… wild.
I wasn’t above cracking a joke at her expense, however. I had fond memories of the rapid back-and-forth, friendly insults included, that had taken place within the room.
“I’m not going out with you looking like that.”
Ticktania shrugged, rolling her eyes as she briefly gestured to me with the gun.
“Mm. Would you rather I joined you in the fashion faux pa of wearing altered World Ballet Troupe outfits accompanied by that… atrocious new Wave Scarf, clearly one of your fiance’s early gifts?”
I blinked. Though unsurprised that she could deduce my recent involvement with the Troupe, let alone guess who gave me the scarf, I was taken aback slightly by the tone which she said 'atrocious’ and ‘fiance’.
I glanced back at the magazine, trying to suppress a smile that was rapidly forming on my face. Author, how I loved when we talked like this.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you, Tockman.” I said, a note of sarcasm masking the truth of my words.
She reeled, eyes gleaming with an expression of mock surprise.
“Really…!? I’ve barely noticed YOUR absence.” She said, beginning to pace, hands tucked behind her back. “Of course, I’m knee deep in countless cases, lost in the search. I’ve also found the time to extract fluids from the frozen glands of Jabberwocky and design my own urban camouflage…!” She let her hands flourish over the outfit she currently wore.
She turned again, looking me in the eye and leaning forward.
“... All the while verging on the single most important breakthrough in all of my crusade against the criminal element, perhaps in the history of the profession!”
I realized that Mr. Arthur had arrived behind Ticktania, a platter in his hand.
“Oh, Miss Dancer!” He said, a little surprised. I used all of a few moments to realize he was purposefully avoiding looking at Ticktania and by extension the rather… lewd figure she made bending over in a skin-tight bodysuit.
Eugh.
He continued. “So nice to see you again. Thank you for inviting me, tomorrow.” I stood, and Ticktania lost her balance for a brief second as she moved out of my path.
“And thank you, Mr. Arthur, for looking after my fish.” I returned with a smile. My friend however, was once again in one of her ‘states’. Casting off the gloves from her suit and the gun along with it, she locked eyes with Mr. Arthur and strode purposefully towards him, her words as measured as her steps.
“Dear… dear… overbearing butler…” She hissed. I knew how much Mr. Arthur detested that nickname that Ticktania had bestowed upon him, but, he endured it well. “Might I have a word…?”
Yanking off the white cloth that covered the platter, a large container of writhing white mice lay beneath it.
“Yummy…” Ticktania trailed off, and I confess that for a brief second I didn’t register the humor in her voice, and assumed she was to eat those mice for herself. Her eyes lingered on the plate for a moment before she abruptly ordered “Feed the snake, butler!”
Mr. Arthur’s reaction was instantaneous: “You feed it…!” He sneered.
Ticktania gave an airy, forced smile.
“Touchy, touchy…” she slid back into the foliage, noiselessly taking the platter from the goodnatured landlord.
One he was out of earshot, Mr. Arthur was quick to pull out a handkerchief and offer it to me for the paint splatters on my clothes, as well as quick to begin a steady stream of words.
“Miss Dancer, you must get her to mental therapy, a psychiatric ward, anything...! She’s been on a diet of caffeinated soda, hard caramels and plant leaves. She never sleeps; in the middle of the night I hear multiple voices coming from her rooms as if she’s rehearsing a play.”
I smiled warmly, trying to calm the little man down. “She just needs another case, that’s all. Leave her to me.” I replied with a light laugh. While my colleague had claimed to be in the midst of several cases, my intuition told me I knew my friend and ally better.
Silently, Ticktania arrived, on cue, and slid up behind Mr. Arthur, speaking directly into his ear with a harsh, emotionless snarl. “Don’t you have a Bandersnatch that needs...worming…?” She said, eyes blank.
Mr. Arthur forced a cough, stepping away from her as he did so. “Thank you so very much for reminding me, Miss Tockman…” His eyes were locked on mine, pleading.
Oh, that poor, poor man.
Once Mr. Arthur pulled away, I found that Ticktania was staring at me, eyes wide and mouth open slightly, a face of ‘scared confusion’. She stammered slightly. “Wh-why… why are you here?”
I returned with my own look of bewilderment and, tucking a bit of strawberry blonde hair behind my ear, replied, with eyebrows: “I’m getting married…”
Ticktania’s face was still void of understanding.
I could feel my eyes widen a bit. Did she really not remember? It was to be the happiest day of my life, and I assumed that my best friend would share in my joy, but…
“Tomorrow…?” I tried again.
Ticktania’s face lit up, though some part of it seemed to be forced, intentional. “Uhm -- Oh! Embrace me!” She said, blinking a few times as she drew me in for a stiff, rigid hug.
I heard her say something to herself, something that sounded a lot like “Dancer’s getting married…?” as I felt her hand wipe paint off the back of my shoulder. Feeling my friend’s frame against mine, I noticed she had lost considerable weight, and was thinner, more sickly.
Though I regret it, I found myself thinking out loud, forgetting manners. “You’ve dropped a few pounds, Ticktania.” She responded within a fraction of a second. “-- and you’ve picked them up.” She returned, that crooked smile still plastered on her face. I glanced down for a moment at myself. Had I really…?
“...gorging on His cooking, no doubt.” She finished. I gave slight chuckle. Well, He was quite a good at creating gourmet foods, one of the skills I liked most about him. Looking back up, I saw that Ticktania’s face had returned to a grim, serious expression.
“Pour us a soda…” She said, turning to her study, my (re-purposed) old room. “The bridal shower has begun… It is our… Final adventure together, and I intend to make the most of it.”
Oh, Grimm.