H&S: Story Of Dorothy Oneshots

Dorothy's Birthday

So as I smoked my pipe, and regarded the distraught partygoers, their glasses of chardonnay forgotten in the parlor and their fancy dresses and crisp suits void of any shred of evidence, with skepticism of their whereabouts during the scuffle; I analyzed the severe injuries the poor old geezer suffered through before his tremendously violent passing. I knew, just knew, this mystery would be one of my easiest, for the culprit threw caution to the wind in lieu of dragging out the torment of his or her victim. Quite a hate-fueled crime when you contemplate the speed needed to complete this misdeed when any member of this small gathering could notice your absence around the time of the murder. I exchanged a look with my colle-

"Sue, what are you reading?"

Sue rubbed his temples a little in exasperation as once again, Dorothy interrupted the book Maria gifted him last Christmas. It was February the seventh and he was still reading it, there were quite a lot of pages, and when he wanted a change of story, he'd open a different book until he craved the action-packed mysteries of this English detective again. He considered locking himself in his room, but she'd only knock on his door and pester him from outside until he let her in or at least acknowledged her. He was at the center table in the library with its glass vase of daises beside him, seated in a matching hardwood chair, surrounded by rows of bookcases. The smell of the aging leather and paper was musty to most, but he enjoyed that and how empty it usually was.

Sure, a chambermaid would come in every now and again to dust the shelves and whistle to herself, or his mother who would be in need of another romance novel, but normally he had it to himself. But he couldn't have any time to himself with the way Dorothy was bugging him. Yes, it was her birthday. Yes, he'd treated her like she was the most special girl in the world. But it was getting to be late afternoon, the presents had long been given, the unique breakfast and lunch, which consisted of her favorites, was over with. All that was left was her amazing dinner she selected herself, and dessert: her giant strawberry shortcake. In between these meals, she was showered with attention, and often given more sweets and snacks by servants than usual.

But what was irritating Dorothy was that Sue wasn't showering her in attention as much as everyone else. As the hours went on and he engrossed himself in literature, he gradually stopped the barrage of compliments and general adoration. Especially the cheery "Happy Birthday!" she loved hearing from his voice so much. She noticed the way Sue blinked and furrowed his eyebrows, and knew he was aggravated for the hundredth time that day. Although that made her a bit sheepish inside, she still continued to badger him relentlessly.

"The same book I was reading the last time you asked." Sue deadpanned, continuing where he was stopped with difficulty.

"Ooh, I bet it's interesting!" Dorothy leaned over the table, cheek resting in her hand and idly prodding the daisies in the vase. Her smile held a tinge of desperation as she silently willed him to look at her, but he didn't.

"I know, you said that at least twice already." Sue sighed more irately this time. "Also, I've told you every detail about the plot so far. You should already know whether it's interesting or not." He wondered if wishing her a happy birthday again would get her to give him peace, but he literally already tried that at least twenty times. Why couldn't she just busy herself with her gifts, for Pete's sake? Speaking of gifts, one of the things he'd gotten her was a doll that looked just like her. Earlier in the year, with the right amount of money, he'd gotten a professional dollmaker to customize him a doll. He'd swiped a small portrait of Dorothy no one would notice the absence of and gave it to the old woman, and to his and her enthusiasm, she'd included the happy pink smile and bouquet of red roses that was in the painting.