The storm outside was wild. London winds were flying around like crazy. Many residents found it hard to get some sleep that night, even some rodent residents. However, one mouse in particular was still up late that night and was conducting an experiment.
"Basil?" Dr. Dawson yawned, groggily peeking into the parlor. "Are you still up?"
If Basil heard the doctor, he made no indication that he did so. He stared intently at the boiling chemicals in the glass beakers, watching the steam swirl in shade of pink, blue, and lilac. After a moment or two of staring, Basil reached out and impatiently swirled the beaker around on the table. "Come on, now," he muttered to whatever was in the beaker, "separate..."
"Basil?" Dawson said again, his voice a mix of exasperation and general exhaustion. "Aren't you coming to bed?"
"Yes, yes, in a minute, Dawson," Basil snapped irritably. "As soon as the minerals in this confounded speck of clay separate into something I can work with, I'll go right to bed, all right?"
"Now, Basil," Dawson began, looking disapprovingly at the younger detective. Basil rolled his eyes. He could sense another lecture about the importance of sleep coming, which would probably lead to another lecture on proper eating habits which would lead to another lecture on his health in general and he simply did not have time for any of that now. "I know that you're trying to catch Ratigan after what happened all those months ago. But right now, you need to rest." Dawson assured his friend. "There will be times for experimenting later tomorrow."
"But-" Basil began, but was cut off by Dawson's look. When he realized that further refusal would surely end in death by lecture, Basil groaned in annoyance and shuffled over to the table, putting away tools and pouting like a small child. He swirled the beaker one last time for good measure.
"Basil?"
"I'm just putting it away, Doctor," Basil said, sulking. With great reluctance, he set the beaker aside to rest for the night. Dawson grinned at his victory.
Just as Basil was putting the last beaker away, there came a knock at the door. Basil turned sharply on his heel, new light in his eyes. Dawson frowned. "Now who in heaven's name..."
"Late night client, perhaps?" Basil suggested excitedly. He scurried over to the door and threw it open. "Welcome! I a-oh." Basil stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who was really standing on his doorstep.
"Basil. I figured you'd be up at this hour," was Edmund's greeting.
Basil frowned. "A pleasure as always, Edmund. And exactly what brings you here at this hour?" Edmund sighed and took an envelope out from inside his coat pocket. He handed it to his brother.
"I have a job for you." Edmund said as Basil took the envelope and opened it. "Have you heard about the recent...reports about the crime rate dropping?" He asked the detective.
Basil didn't answer, merely turned and went to sit in his chair, his green eyes flicking over the paper. Dr. Dawson sighed. "Would you like to come in, sir?" He asked Edmund politely. Edmund gave the Doctor a curt nod and obliged, stepping in and going to stand in front of Basil. Dawson closed the door behind him.
Edmund was silent as Basil read the paper. After a bit, Basil lifted his gaze up to meet his brother's. There was a long pause, before Edmund lost his patience. "Well?" he blurted. "Are you going to look into it or not?"
Basil looked up at Edmund. "A vigilante? You must be joking."
Edmund shook his in reply. "Unfortunately, I'm not."
Dawson blinked. "Vigilante?"
"The first to appear in a while. Sometimes people feel the police are not doing enough to keep the streets crime-free, and they take matters into their own hands, unaware of the danger it puts them and other citizens in," Edmund explained. He looked to Basil. "So? Do you want the job or not?"
Basil sat back in his seat, pulling out his pipe. He shrugged indifferently. "Sounds like a rather ordinary case. Why come to me? I'm sure that your superior intellect could make quick work of it," he said, his voice positively dripping in sarcasm.
Edmund didn't make comment in reply, but instead rolled up his shirt sleeve to reveal a long scar on his arm. One that only a sword, a rapier to be exact, could make. "This Vigilante doesn't take the police lightly. I chased him into an alley way and-"
Basil raised an eyebrow, regarding the scar with some distaste. Dawson did too, noting the pink healing skin that was already trying to stretch itself over the gash in Edmund's arm. It couldn't be a very old cut, perhaps two days old at most. "That cut was made by a rapier, but not a very experienced swordsman. Note it starts deeper than it ends, meaning it was caused by more of a swipe than an intentional hit," Basil said, demonstrating by tracing the air with an imaginary sword. "A more experienced marksman could have slashed your wrist easily. However, there may have been some intent in the placement, meaning whoever made that cut is most likely a student-"
"I know that," Edmund snapped, annoyed. "I underestimated them at first, whoever they are. But clearly the police method of waiting and trying to catch them when they do show up is clearly not going to work. We're going to have to sniff them out and corner them on the sly. I need someone who can sneak around shady places. You're rather good at that. So-" he interrupted Basil, who looked affronted,"-take the case?"
Basil closed his mouth. He frowned, debating silently with himself. he couldn't shake the interested gleam in his eyes. Finally, he shrugged and sat back in his chair. "Tell me," he said.
*Two Days Ago*
The night was quiet and wet. The streetlamps illuminated the dark cobblestone streets with a dim glow. The silence was split in half by the sounds of three pairs of feet splashing through the street. Three masked mice raced through the night, lugging a bag of stolen secrets each.
Edmund and other officers were chasing after them when the strangest thing happened. The three masked mice turned a corner and when Edmund and his allies followed, they saw the thugs knocked out on the ground, two of them with small cuts on their bodies. The source stood in front of the bodies. A mouse standing there with a rapier.
It wasn't a big mouse, not at all really. Small and thin, probably quite fast. It wore a dark cloak and a black mask that concealed their entire face. A small dark purple hat fit snugly on top of their head, causing the ears to stick out just underneath the brim. The silver rapier (Spanish-made, small, quite expensive, Edmund noted) glittered against dark leather gloves. It looked rather like a dark, cheap mock-up of a French Musketeer costume.
"'Old it now!" One of the other officers yelled. "Stay where you are!"
The mouse grabbed something off the ground and bolted. Edmund and the two officers with him gave chase. Down the block, around the corner and into a darkened alleyway. The "musketeer" leapt easily over the overturned rubbish bins. Edmund bounded after it, smiling inwardly. He knew this alley was a dead end. Sure enough, as they approached the brick wall at the end of the alley, the mystery mouse slowed down, allowing Edmund to reach out and snatch it by the cloak. The mouse let out a yelp as they were pulled back, dropping the rapier on the ground with a clatter. It squirmed and twisted in Edmund's hands, clawing wildly at him before finally the fabric swept out of Edmund's grasp. It scrambled for the sword.
One officer, Rollins by name, lunged for it too. He grabbed it first, but was promptly met with a kick to the face. Sword reclaimed, the mouse tried to exit the alley. Unfortunately for them, that was exactly what Edmund had expected them to do. Grabbing his pistol from his coat, Edmund pointed it at the mouse. "Stop," he commanded. The mouse froze.
The other officer, Murphy, pulled out his pistol as well and pointed it at the masked mouse. Rollins had suffered a badly broken nose and was crumpled in a quite useless heap of agony at the moment. Edmund and Murphy began to slowly circle the mouse, edging their way around them until Murphy was blocking one side of the alley and Edmund was blocking the other.
Calmly, Edmund told the mouse to drop his weapon. "Oi! You heard 'im! Drop it!" Murphy yelled when the mouse did not move. As a warning, Edmund clicked the safety off his pistol. Slowly, the mouse began to lower the sword to their side, before peacefully placing it on the ground.
"Good man," Edmund murmured, lowering his own pistol. A few moments after he said that, the 'good man' attacked him, trying by all accounts to claw their way over Edmund and out of the alley. He heard a pistol shot. "Goddamnit, don't shoot!" Edmund yelled at Murphy. Right now any bullet fired had an equal chance of hitting Edmund and the intended target. Although he had been initially surprised, it did not take a lot of effort for Edmund to push his much smaller attacker off of him. The mouse changed tactics and tried to lunge past Edmund instead, but their cape proved yet again to be a disadvantage when Edmund grabbed it and swung them around before letting go. The mouse knocked right into Murphy before skidding right into the brick wall. This stunned them long enough for Edmund to prevent further escape by placing his boot firmly on the attacker's chest. Edmund pointed his pistol directly at them and chuckled. "You might want to reconsider the cape in your costume," he remarked. "It doesn't help you much at all."
The eyes behind the mask were wide and terrified. Edmund hesitated.
Suddenly, there was a flash of silver and a shooting pain in Edmund's arm. He was thrown backwards and heard his gun fire off. The rapier, Edmund thought as he watched his own blood spill from a slice in his arm, they must have gotten a hold of it somehow. He heard Rollins shout thickly to stop, and a few gunshots ring out in the air.
"Sowwy, sir, they goddaway," Rollins apologized, his nose still bleeding profusely.
"Can anybody tell me what in the blazes jus' happened here?" Murphy panted.
Edmund shook his head, narrowing his eyes. I don't really know what happened, either, he thought to himself, but whatever it is, it certainly won't be boring.
Basil listened intently as his brother finished his story. This whole thing, from the police chase down to the part where the vigilante escaped with ease. All of it seemed ridiculous, and yet...this intrigued Basil."I need you to go undercover and gather all the information you can," Edmund said. "Find their identity, where they live, that sort of thing."
Basil feigned deep thought. "Hmm..." he shrugged. "Why not."
Edmund nodded at his brother. "Thank you Basil. Here." Edmund handed Basil another file. Inside was an ID birth certificate and other papers of information.
"You will be going the Famous Mali Fencing School here in London. You're name is Victor Ptacek, you have just arrived from Ireland after your father's passing and coming to live with your mother. You are a well known violinist, and you like to bake." The older brother explained. "Any questions?"
Basil bristled at his brother's tone but managed a tight smile. "I think I'll manage, Edmund."
Edmund sniffed. "Very well. Give me a ring if you find out anything, I have other business to attend to." He walked briskly to the door. Before heading out, however, he paused. "Thank you, Basil."
Basil did not say anything, but gave a nod. And with that, Edmund swept out into the night.
Author's Note: Hello! Me again!
I am so excited to be back writing GMD fanfic! I co-wrote this story with my friend GodWriting, who dreamed up the idea for and original characters featured in this story. Be sure to check out her account here: u/6273638/GodWriting
I hope you guys like it so far! Please review, we'd both love to hear what you think! Til we meet again,
Narwhals Forever
P.S. Neither of us own Great Mouse Detective. Wish we did though.