Chapter One

Meg: Disclaimer: The Great Mouse Detective and all related characters are the property of Disney and Eve Titus. Meg Sarentis and all other characters are property of Meg Sarentis. The Great Locomotive Chase was an actual event that happened during the Civil War, but it has nothing to do with this story. Standard Oil was also an actual company in the late 1800's, but I barely know anything about it. The Standard Oil of the mouse world is not the same thing. OK then! Enjoy!

I looked at the piece of paper in my paw for the hundredth time. This was it; Flaversham Toys. A bell rang as I entered the shop.

"Can I help you, miss?" An older mouse came out from a side room, wearing a work apron and glasses too big for his face.

"Are you Mr. Flaversham?" I asked.

"Why yes, that would be me," he answered.

I smiled. "I am Meg Havers, Mr. Basil and Dr. Dawson's assistant."

"Oh, Mrs. Havers!" he exclaimed. "It is so good to finally meet you! Come in, come in!" He motioned for his young apprentice to take over the shop as he ushered me into the living quarters at the very back of the shop.

10 days earlier...

I had been reading in the study when Basil entered the room. "Meg? May I ask a favor of you?"

I looked up at him. "All right," I said. "What is it?"

"I need you in America right now."

"We're going to America? Why?"

"Correction: You're going to America. I'm working on that French lieutenant's case right now, but a bit of a concern has arisen that I need you on top of."

I shot him a suspicious look. Basil had been acting rather funny lately around me; I wondered if this had something to do with it, or if he was merely trying to get rid of me.

He handed me a letter. "You know who Hiram Flaversham is, don't you?"

"He's the toy maker that was kidnapped by Ratigan about four years ago, right?"

Basil sharply glanced at me at the sound of Ratigan's name. "Well, he's owned a toy shop in New York City ever since, but he is also an inventor, in his spare time. He is a bit suspicious about a mouse named Matthew Childres, president of the Rodent Standard Oil Company. Supposedly Childres has visited him several times in the past few months, requesting that he take a job with Standard Oil."

I wondered if he held me for being a complete idiot. "Why is this so suspicious?" I demanded.

Basil seemed a little embarrassed. "Well," he began, "Standard Oil doesn't has the best reputation. It was caught in the middle of corrupt dealings in the '80's. And Matthew Childres is a multi-millionaire. Why would he personally go to Flaversham's toyshop to offer the job? He has other employees to do that."

I started to protest that this did not require any detective work on my part when he cut in, "I just need you to run a background check on Childres and a few others. Talk to Flaversham about it, but don't tell him that what you're doing. Will you please do that for me?"

I paused. Seeing my hesitation, he quickly added, "It most likely is nothing, but sometimes the most unlikely cases tend to be the most important."

"And you didn't send Dawson because..."

"I don't think he could handle this job," Basil said.

"I beg your pardon!"

He gave me a mischievous grin. "It would break his heart to be separated from his Miss Isabelle Fremly."

I burst out laughing. Dawson had been paying visits every few days to Colonel Fremly's manor ever since we got back from China. Basil had complained that the doctor spent more time there than he did at Baker Street. I unmercifully teased Dawson about it; he insisted that he was not 'courting' Isabelle.

"I think he's going to propose before they even start courting," I said. The suggestion made Basil blanch.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing," he said with a sigh.

"You have a problem with Dawson getting married!" I exclaimed.

"No, I don't!" he maintained, avoiding my gaze. He could not for long, however, As soon as his eyes met mine, he threw up his hands in despair. "All right, I do!"

"Why, Basil?"

"Because," he sighed again, "because he'd leave Baker Street. I quite enjoy him as a partner, and I'm not willing to lose him this way."

"But you won't certainly remain a bachelor all your life, will you?"

He mumbled something that sounded like, "That depends." Then he looked up at me again. "I honestly don't know. I never actually considered it. And what about you, Megana?"

I blushed. "I have no prospects."

He changed the subject. "So, will you accept the case?"

"Yes, I'll do it. And Basil?"

"Yes?"

"I'll still be here at Baker Street long after Dawson is gone."

Mr. Flaversham was the most fatherly person I had ever known. He made me feel more like a daughter than a mere acquaintance. We had been talking for about two hours when a playful voice shouted, "Father! I'm home!"

"Oh, that'll be my Olivia, home from school," Flaversham said.

A girl of about ten years came dashing into the room. She was absolutely adorable. "Father, I had the most wonderful day today! I won the spelling bee!" she said happily.

"Congratulations, my dear!" her father said, visibly proud.

"How was your day, Daddy?"

"Olivia, there's a lovely young lady I want you to meet."

Olivia smiled brightly at me.

"This is Mrs. Havers, Mr. Basil's assistant."

"Oh, you're really Megana? I just love that name! Basil talks about you all the time in his letters. Is it true you saved him from a pirate ship? Can you really swordfight? Did you really shoot-"

"That's enough questions for now, my dear," Flaversham interrupted, trying to chuckle. "Mrs. Havers has had a long journey, and she's probably tired." I noticed his enunciation of my formal title.

"That's all right sir," I said. "I'll answer any question she has. Olivia, come here." She came. I pulled out a present from my bag. "Basil wanted me to deliver this to you." She eagerly unwrapped a copy of The Arabian Nights.

"Oh, I love this book! Thank you Mrs. Havers, thank you!"

The girl's happiness was contagious. "Thank Basil," I said. "And Olivia, you may call me Meg."

"May I call you Megana?"

I laughed. "Of course you may."

Meg: I took a guess on Olivia's age. At least I'm not as off as I probably was with Ratigan's.

RAEB: Yeah, you were REALLY off. We all think you're messed up.

Meg: (Sarcastically) Thanks a lot RAEB.

JWJ: Childres? Matthew CHILDRES?

Meg: Well, it used to be 'Kallaw', but then the real Jesse Kallaw... he was sort of mad at me for using his name.

JWJ: Well, what about the real Matthew Childres?

Meg: (Evil grin) What about him?

JWJ: You're evil.