n neither Sherlock Holmes nor The Great Mouse Detective, there for I suck… nah… just kidding… there fore I write fanfics.

Summary: WARNING!!! PURE FLUFF!!! Watson's left, married and starting a practice and a family. A lonely Holmes finds a mouse and makes friends with him, names him Basil and even tells him about deduction. Basil, learns quickly becomes a detective himself. But how can he make Holmes realize that he understands him!?! Also, this fic may defy a few laws of nature, like, maybe mice wearing clothes? And they are about as intellectually complicated as humans, though we are too blind to see it… they have their own little society, a lot like ours, like in "The Great Mouse Detective"…

Holmes's POV

I sat alone by the fire in him home. Everything had changed so quickly. Watson had married that morning and was now on his honeymoon. He would be busy with starting a practice to support his wife and eventually a family. He will not have time anymore to drop everything and follow me to God only knows where. As I lit my pipe I thought about the possibilities of finding a new roommate. I decided against it, as no one could ever replace my Watson… no, no one could ever replace him. He was my best friend, and the thought of actually replacing him with a complete stranger was almost repulsive. The irony did hit me that he had been a stranger when I first met him, but I ignored it, preferring to savor my black mood, rather than listen to logic.

There was a small clatter coming from on the table. I looked over and saw a mouse helping himself the evening tea Mrs. Hudson had prepared for me. I frowned. The poor lady hated mice, as everyone respectable did. I picked up a tea cup and turned it over onto the creature. I am not a cruel man, and I really hate killing anything I don't have to. I don't mind killing humans so much, as the ones I do are criminals and have equal chance to kill me. They're not helpless animals merely looking for a home and something to eat.

While I pondered, I don't know how, but the little thing escaped. I looked over and smiled. He was still there; however, he was examining the room with his beady little eyes. They fell on me and seemed to smirk. I held out my hand and he did not run, but sniffed it and climbed onto my palm. I never did have a pet as a child, and never since, but I liked this lithe rodent, I was not stupid enough to expect him to want to be cage bound, so I decided to merely feed him and allow him to come and go as he pleased, so long as he did not show himself in any way to Mrs. Hudson. Yet, if he did, I decided that I would move him to the country and hope for the best for this little chap.

Over the next few days, my little mouse became bolder to the point that he would even sit by chair for a few minutes before darting along his way. I had decided to name him Basil, after my captain alter ego. It suited the little chap. I can't say exactly why, but it stuck in my head. I also learned that his favorite foods were scones and apples. These I made sure to always share with him, and each time I did, he would hang around and keep me from my usual loneliness. Eventually I took to building small mazes or puzzles and testing his problem solving abilities. He was very smart, my mouse, and each time he surpassed my expectations.

Despite my pleasure at my new friend, I now lived in constant fear of Mrs. Hudson getting a cat. Even Watson noticed my recent dislike for the animal, though, thankfully, he thought it was an allergy. This gave me an idea and one evening, just before supper, I came home pretending to sneeze every few seconds. Mrs. Hudson pounced like, I dare say, a cat. Before I could explain, she had a cup of herbal tea ready and some rocks warming in the fire for my bed. When I finally managed to tell her she seemed almost disappointed that she wouldn't get to take care of me. I sighed as I told her that I learned tonight that I was allergic to cats. She cooed and swore never to get one, much to my relief.

Basil's POV

I don't know how or why he took such a fancy to me, but I decided to do whatever I could for him after he tricked that poor old woman into keeping away cats. I never left his room when, during one case, he caught a chill and was stuck in bed for a whole day. I did what I could to make him laugh and in return, he began to talk to me. I knew he felt foolish, I knew he didn't think I could understand, but I can and I did that day. As he sniffled, he told me of his methods, he's a genius, and I guess I am too, because it all made sense. I have even been thinking about following him and becoming a detective for my fellow mice as well.

The first step for me was to go to my tailor and have him make me a smaller version of his trademark outfit. I must say, at the risk of sounding arrogant, that it looked very good on me. I officially opened for business a few days later, with an add in the newspaper and met some small success. Still, though I found the cases extremely stimulating, I found myself more and more away from my friend. Luckily, though, we both hit a lull around the same time. He sat me on is lap and played with my ears.

"My dear Basil, you don't seem to be around as much…" Well… at I was missed. "Have you found yourself a maiden to squire about the town?' I looked at him like he had suggested I was planning a trip to the moon. He laughed. Well maybe he was beginning to understand my moods. "Or perhaps I have put some notions in your head and you've decided to become a detective yourself?" There, now he had it. He chuckled as I sat up and looked at him. I truly believe he understood that time. I tried to show him he was right by climbing up the chest of his dressing gown and into the breast pocket. He had a key in there, a rather uncomfortable one too. I picked it up and threw it onto his lap. "Hey! Get out of there!" I pretended to be asleep, though, and he didn't bother me further.

It sees though, that I did fall asleep, because I woke, hours later, still in the pocket, but with him pacing around the room. I stretched and poked my head out. He paused to pat me on the head. "I imagine you're hungry, my little friend…" He placed me on the table by his plate. I noticed he had saved me a rather large portion of his scone. I tried to thank him by kissing his hand before eating. He chuckled and gave me a small push toward the food.

That night I could sense he was troubled. I stayed with him as he fell asleep, sitting on his pillow, a few inches away from his eyes. I knew he was grateful, and he was welcome, I'd do it again in a heart beat.

Holmes's POV

Now I sit here, writing in an old note book that I keep hidden in a place only my friend and I know exist.

My little friend is very good to me. He never complains about my habits, never tells me not to attempt certain composers and never is a nuisance. I try to keep from giving him any reason to avoid me. But I think it might be a good idea if I spent less time around him. Call me crazy, but I think he understands me. He always is near when I'm loneliest, and he seems to know when to keep away. I find it especially funny to think of the possibility that maybe he has started his own detective agency, for mice clients. His favorite spot, of late, is the breast pocket of my dressing gowns.

He has become rather bold, yet only around me. He still, though wisely, hides whenever Mrs. Hudson or anyone else is heard ascending the stairs. He seems frustrated with me. I wonder what I am doing to make him feel so. "What is it, my friend? How am I offending you?" He stirs and looks at me. I can almost feel him sigh. He wants to tell me something. Then it his me I can feel his moods, and somehow, and I pray it is not my imagination, but he seems to understand me and he seems as complex as a human. But that's impossible. Isn't it?

He looks up at me and any doubts I had vanish. Overwhelmed I rise, careful not to displace him, and pour myself a large glass of brandy. I look over at him and see in those small eyes, some glint of worry. I go to him and, not sure what to do settle for patting him, gently on the shoulder. He licks my hand, as if to tell me that he is still my pet. I pull him onto my lap and stroke his velvety head. "If only I could understand you." I murmur.

Basil's POV

He finally realizes. He's a smart one. I'm lucky to have met him. I love to be the one he murmurs to when stuck on a case. He finally realizes that I can relate to him in so many ways. I think he's noticed that I occasionally borrow his possessions for my own work. He has yet to complain, as I have yet to damage anything. But I think I hit a bit of a limit when I borrowed a dog he was keeping. The dog was very well behaved and returned home with me without the slightest problem, so he has not forbidden me the use of Toby. For that I am most grateful. The dog has become a valuable companion for me, and when not at my human's house, I go to his home for his help.

We have always kept our friendship a secret, though we came close to discovery one afternoon, when, Dr. Watson, my human's dear friend came to visit. We were both asleep together in his favorite chair when the doctor entered. Luckily a gust of wind from the open window caught the door and slammed it against the wall. I scrambled into his nearest pocket and found myself in rather uncomfortable quarters with a loaded revolver.

My human rose and I was jostled so the barrel was resting against my chest. I squeaked. My human jumped, for never had I uttered such a noise before. His companion must have also, as he explained, "Just a floor board… I'll have to see to it. I detest that noise." He then reached, coolly, into his pocket and blessedly withdrew the revolver. From the noise, I'd say he placed it on the table.

When his hand was free, he placed it in his pocket and gave me a reassuring pat. I pushed against his hand to show my gratitude.

"Well it seems I win." I heard from outside my pocket.

"Oh? Win what?"

"The right to examine you. Don't you remember? Last time you came to visit me I tried to, but you refused. I then told you I would show up one day and examine you whether or not you liked it? You told me you'd deduce when and make sure to be away. I said if you didn't I'd win the right to examine you."

"Damn…" I pushed against his hand and tried to keep my laughter from being picked up by his fingers. I didn't succeed, because he pushed me over and withdrew his hand. That made me laugh all the harder, almost squeaking.

Holmes's POV

My little mouse must be taking on my sense of humor. I have reason to believe that I am creating a monster here. Still, he provides endless entertainment and companionship. My only regret is that I can't be with him right now, talking to him and watching as he shows me he's listening. I have begun to rely on the soft texture of his ears to take the place of cocaine in my spare time. The case I am on is taking all of my energy. I find myself hoping that he has enough food without my sharing my meals with him. Then I scold myself for my silliness, of course he does. He's smart and Mrs. Hudson isn't always looking. He's far from stupid enough to be caught.

Watson's commented that I seem to be taking his absence better than I let on that I would before he was wed. If he only knew… if I tried to tell him… I have little doubt I'd be sent off to Bedlam, with no ceremony, just urgency. This makes me chuckle and I cover it with a cough. He would probably dismiss it at first as a joke, but if I insisted, he would send me off and spend the rest of his life wondering just what went wrong in my head.

We pull up in front of 221 B Baker Street. My heart stops when I see the exterminator parked in front of my home.

"Holmes? What the devil is it?"

I don't know how I managed my lie, but I did. "They use cats… I hate cats…"

"Ah, yes, your allergies… well if they are the cat using exterminators, then keep a handkerchief to your nose and mouth, until you're in your room. I don't think Mrs. Hudson would let them in there…"

I burst in and demanded to know why I had not been notified about calling in exterminators.

"I didn't!" She protested. "It's the neighbor's that are! And don't worry; I won't ever call one that uses cats, poison only. Mice are a hazard, though. I have scheduled for them to come tomorrow."

I nearly fainted with relief. "Alright. My apologies… thank you."

"Will you be wanting tea, then?"

"Yes… yes I will…" I climbed the stairs in a daze. I had to find my pet and keep him safe until they left.

My sitting room was deserted. "Basil?" I called. "Basil?" He climbed the empty fire place to get my attention. "Mrs. Hudson's called the exterminators. Don't worry, no cats, just poison. But you need to understand that you can not eat anything I don't personally give you." I prayed that I was not crazy in thinking that he understood me. My prayers were answered when he nodded. "I'm also going to take you with me when I leave tomorrow and until they leave, alright?" Again a nod. I stroked that velvety head with my right index finger. He climbed up my arm and perched on my shoulder. "You should warn your friends…" He scurried down my arm and disappeared for a few hours. When he returned, he looked tired. I offered him some cream and a piece of my scone from my tea earlier.

I slept on my back that night, with my little friend on my chest. I fell asleep talking to him and awoke in the same position, with him once again ready to listen to me.