Dear Director, Dear Sherlock,

I am so glad you let me out, Sherlock. Thank you. And thank you for seeing me, Director. I was afraid no one would notice I was missing. I think Sherlock's words cast a spell -- like a poet's. He was writing about me and then, there I was, dancing on his page! I am sure he did not know, and it happened so fast I could not cry out.

I am fine, Director, and I will be at rehearsal for my pas de deux with the Captain. (Unless he'd rather dance with the vaulting horse, but I hear it is like Mrs. Grundy and has a fierce temper.)