"You know daddy, this is my very best birthday!" said an excited young mouse. Olivia Flaversham had on one of her favorite blue dresses with a blue/green plaid skirt. A pretty red bow stuck behind one of her ears. She had just turned ten years old.

"But, I haven't given you your present yet!" said her father, Hiram Flaversham. He was older, moved slower and had a mustache.

"What is it! What is it!" Olivia asked excitedly.

"Now, close your eyes." he said as he leaned over to get it from it's hiding place. He turned to see her eyes peeking out from behind her tiny fingers.

"Ah ah! No peeking now!" he scolded lightly. She just giggled as she hid her eyes again.

He wound the toy and a tiny melody began to play. Olivia uncovered her eyes to see a tiny ballerina doll dancing about to the melody on the table.

"Oh daddy! You made this, just for me?" she asked, her eyes never leaving the toy. Hiram just smiled at his youngest daughter's joy.

Speaking of which...

Hiram let his eyes wander to the clock. Alison should have possibly been here by now for Olivia's birthday.

Suddenly, a rattling came at the door.

"What is it!" Olivia suddenly cried. Hiram was pulled from his thoughts as Olivia cowered into him.

"I don't know." he said, picking her up. "Quickly dear, stay in here," he said, shoving her in the cupboard, "and don't come out!" he said, slamming the door shut.

From Olivia's hiding place she could hear a struggle. She opened the door to peek out and saw a bat attacking her father. Her eyes widened in horror before the table was thrown against the door in the struggle.

"Now I've got you toy maker!" she heard the intruder. She then heard her father calling her name before all was quiet.

Olivia pushed on the door and was finally able to squeeze past the table that had come to lock her inside.

"Daddy! Where are you?" she called, walking out into the mess that had once been so clean before.

"Daddy! Where are you!" she called again, going over to the broken window and looking out. "Daddy!" she called into the night. "Daddy!"

Alison stepped off the train, two bags in hand. She wore a long light blue dress with a darker blue jacket on. Her fur was a darker brown than most english mice and her dark brown, nearly black hair was thrown up into a bun. She was nearly nineteen years old, nine years older than her younger sister, Olivia. She had had a sister who was only five years younger, but she had died at the young age of two from influenza. Alison still thought of Ashton from time to time. When Olivia came, she mostly replaced what Ashton had left behind. Now, her younger sister was celebrating her tenth birthday. She walked off the train, her two bags weighing down her arms.

She found a carriage heading towards her father's home and quickly boarded, nearly missing it as it began to move right as she settled herself in a seat. As the carriage rounded the corner, she found herself lost in her thoughts once again.

Her darker fur and nearly black hair certainly hadn't come from her Scottish father. Hiram Flaversham was full blooded Scottish. Her mother, Maria Flaversham had a different story.

Maria Marquez had traveled to Scotland with her family when she was almost eight years of age. They had traveled very far from the southern Americas. Her father was a seamen and he had found great work in Scotland so it had caused her whole family to up and move. Not long after Maria had turned eighteen, she met Hiram Flaversham and knew he was the one.

Alison was pulled from her thoughts as the carriage came to a hault about a human block away from her father's home. She dismounted and began her walk. As she got closer, something didn't feel right. She dropped her bags and ran to the house. The window was busted. Alison stopped as she peered further inside. The whole inside was a wreck. She stepped inside, sliding down a piece of wood that was obviously not supposed to be there.

"Olivia?" she said uncertainly. "Dad?" she called again. It was dark and she was getting nervous. She knew something was wrong. She walked into the back where she knew their rooms were. There lay her father's room untouched. Olivia's room was the same. Her bed was made and her toys were put away but there was no sign of Olivia or her father.

"Dad!" Alison called again, but to no prevail. Alison remembered her bags sitting out in the street and decided to go grab them before someone stole them. She walked outside, picking her bags up before something caught her eye. She set her bags back down again and picked up the paper.

"Famous detective solves baffling disappearance?" she questioned, reading the headline. She looked back at her father's home before back to the paper.

"He'd better be a great detective to solve this one." she muttered, reading through the article. After reading the article, she found that the famous detective lived on Bakerstreet, not too far from where she was now. Sighing, she picked up her bags and began walking in the direction she remembered Bakerstreet to be in.

All a while, she wondered, who is this Basil of Bakerstreet?