Introduction: June 22, 1897
"Confound it, Dawson!" Basil sank into his chair as gently as possible. "I have told you thrice already that I am unscathed!"
No one believed him. The sleuth's jacket had been shredded by the rat's claws. Basil's eyes showed agony his pride would not allow his lips to admit. We all knew he was injured, but no one could be sure how badly.
The little girl turned to her father. "Daddy, why won't Mr. Basil let Dr. Dawson take care of his wounds? Is he scared?"
Basil shot her a baleful lower. "I most certainly am not frightened of anything, Miss Flivership."
"Flaversham!" the girl corrected.
He ignored her. "You may rest assured that I would consult a physician if necessary, but as I have said, I am not injured! Furthermore, I shall arrest the next one who remarks on the matter!"
The toymaker changed the subject. "Thank you for saving our lives, Detective."
"Don't mention it." Basil placed a hand on his aching back.
"What do I owe you for taking the case?"
He sighed wearily. "We'll work something out, Flaversham."
I limped away from the window before I was seen. Whoever thought I would visit Baker Street of my own free will? I didn't. At least I hadn't when I woke up this morning. This was the night Ratigan had believed would bring his unofficial coronation. I was supposed to help him "convince" the queen to allow him to rule.
Queen Moustoria is still alive. The legendary Basil of Baker Street saw to it. Eager to assist in the pursuit of justice, Toby had chased me. Only by pure luck had I finally escaped the royal guard dogs, but not before being mauled.
What good was my escape? Perhaps I should have stayed and let them finish killing me. It would have been more merciful than the slow, lingering death I now face. I am in agony. It hurts to move. It almost hurts to think. I don't know how I'll survive until morning.
I suppose I have gotten what I deserve. I wasted my life. I never did one good deed or spoke one kind word to others. That's why I came to Baker Street. When Basil sees my dead body, he will rejoice. I have never brought happiness to others in life, but there's still a chance I can do so in death. This thought comforts me greatly as I prepare to go to my grave.
There's no sense in considering what I would do if my life could be saved and I were given a second chance. I can tell I am already starting to fade. My life flashes before my eyes. I record it here.
