"Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast"-White Queen to Alice; Through the Looking Glass

This fiasco all began with a cup of tea.

London was a city of wonders; A place of Ends and Beginnings. The innovations were ahead of its time. Its people were the most sophisticated in the world. It bred geniuses and labourers that build its great city brick by brick. With all its marvels though, London was a mysterious place, with its many dark corners and dangers that await the unknowing and magnify themselves in the approach of night. London was also a fussy place, with its modern inventions walking side by side with old traditions and lore and dark magicks not really ready to let go of its audiences.

In short, London was a mess of humans and other individuals, and it is in this mess that our tale begins.

Basil of Baker Street is a rather fidgety mouse. Maybe because he lived under a certain famous consulting detective on the corner of Baker Street, flat 221B. It does not help that today, the skies decide to rain, and RAIN (godforsaken globs of H2O) equals no case. Oh, what does a poor consulting detective do on dreary days like this? Why, lounge around on his sofa and piss everyone off within a hundred meter radius!

Footsteps nearing the porch broke Basil out of his musings, but when he realizes who it was; he sighs and continues being a nuisance.

"CONFOUND IT, Basil! I do not question your skill on it, but please stop that INFERNAL racket with your violin!" Dr. Dawson cried as he burst into the room.

"Ah, Dawson," Basil gave him a grin, "such a dazzling entrance! A wet duck could not have done a better job!" At this Basil snorted in laughter.

Dawson glared at Basil and dropped a packet soggier than himself on Basil's lap. "You have a horrible sense of humor, Basil. Mrs Judson is cowering at the front porch, covering her ears, and here you are making sport of it! Now open that packet. I'm dying of anticipation"

"Patience, my good fellow!" Basil said as he picked at it ruefully. He carefully opened it, stared at its contents, and then turned three shades of red, dropping the packet. Dawson stared at Basil for a moment; his curiosity heightened, and quickly grabbed the package off the floor. Examining the package, he discovers a bunch of postcards from different corners of the globe and a few trinkets and baubles. Under all that, he finds a letter for Basil. Curious, Dawson inspects the letter, turning it over and over in his hand. It was completely ordinary save that it was wax-sealed with a flowery crest.

"Don't you wish to know who wrote this?" Dawson asked, waving the letter in front of Basil.

"I already know who wrote it! And for self-perseverance, I will not open that letter", Basil made a face and swats it away.

Dawson rolls his eyes in reply and picks up the letter opener. Despite Basil's warnings, he cleanly slices the envelope and gently takes the letter out. Then he began to read out loud:

My Dearest Cousin,

How are you? I am doing simply marvellous, of course. You may have heard of my exploits in West Africa and the Indies. You must be brimming with envy! (at this Basil snorted)The Head Rescuer has decided to honour me again in another banquet! You must have heard of that too. Oh, and he has asked me again if you are willing to join us. I replied the usual, "Basil of Baker Street is too busy playing Cops and Robbers"! Cousin, why can't you be like most of our family? Do get a post in the government where your skills could be put to better use! Then we would be able to see each other more often! But I have heard you were doing splendidly in your job! You are the rage in Hungary these days, after your last one, with a certain Professor Ratigan, I believe. Oh wait, wasn't he your arch- nemesis? I forgot. I'm so proud of you! Oh, but I do wish you were here though. I am right now travelling with Bernard, (that American mouse I have always written to you about?) on a carrier pigeon. We are now travelling Northbound, entering Europe. I do hope this letter reaches you in time!

Lots of love,

Bianca

Dawson lowers the letter and smirks. "Your cousin must be a very charming lady". Basil glares at him and retorts "If by 'charming' you mean the snake from the Garden of Eden, then yes she is charming".

"Come now Basil, surely you don't mean that?" Dawson pulls up a chair towards the fire and sits near it, letter still in his hand.

"She is stark mad! And she's a sadist, Dawson! She loves making me miserable. When I was five, she convinced me that a tankard of beer was apple juice! It became very ugly after that. But she didn't get punished for it; she never gets punished for anything! She can pull of these, HUGE baby doll eyes! I only know that after that incident, I became highly suspicious of everything and anything."

"Then you must have her to thank for. From what you say, it seems to me that she has given you the push to become a consulting detective, and that you both are quite close. You both know each other too well", mused Dawson.

To Dawson's delight, Basil could not find any retort to this.

In the sketchy parts of London and under its streets are the sewers. The sewer houses London's denizens of the smaller population; those who are not able to afford or are not fortunate enough to make a good living reside here and in the deepest parts of its catacombs is where the Napoleon of Crime and his vast operation makes its home.

Professor Ratigan was a meticulous individual...everything for him had a certain order. Ever since he was a child; that has always been his ruling principle; to nitpick, to scrutinize, and to want nothing more than perfection. It was a trait that distinguished him from other ra...rodents of his type.

That being said, woe to anyone who earns Ratigan's ire, especially if they earned it through disrupting his well-thought-of plans; plans that took the genius MONTHS to think of, calculate and act upon.

"A THOUSAND CURSES ON YOU, BASIL!" screeched the Professor. He threw a bottle of whisky at a doll sitting on his mantelpiece. (Said doll looks suspiciously like a certain consulting mouse detective.) The bottle of whisky missed. Ratigan's eyebrows twitched and before he could do anything else, there came a knock on the door of his study.

Breathing in deeply, he straightens himself up and replies, "Come in".

Fidget, the bat, poked his head in and gave a sheepish smile, "Mail for ye, boss...though I don't think ye would like it. Not one bit!"

Ratigan did not know what to think of Fidget. A bumbling oaf with no sense of grammar and even lesser common sense, and yet he is the most loyal out of Ratigan's band of miscreants. Heck, he threw the poor fool off The Dirigible and yet here he is, still under Professor's service. In fact, it was Fidget who found the Professor, half alive on the edge of the Thames. Ratigan should thank the idiot...someday. He clears his throat and answers the bat, "We'll see Fidget. After that fiasco on the Big Ben and the Queen, I do not think any other news could be bad."

Fidget fumbles his claws, and shuffles toward the Professor, "Well yeah, cor, boss...but this," he shows the letter, "this has HER seal on it. And I don't think she be happy boss". The letter looked like any other letter except for the seal. In the darkness of the Professor's study, lit only by firelight, the seal on the letter reflected a blood red color. It didn't help that the flowery crest on the seal and the back of the letter looked almost serpentine.

Ratigan took one look at the letter and his fur suddenly lost all color. Not that it really had much anyway with him living in the dark and damp. "No...," he whispered. He took the letter from Fidget and slumped down on his armchair. Opening the letter and reading its contents, Ratigan's expression looked like the world would end any minute.

Fidget hovered behind his boss anxiously. "What did She say, boss?"

Ratigan looked at his subordinate and frowned. Fidget deserved to know about what was written on the letter. After all, from the start, Fidget was unwittingly pulled into this mess that he himself is in now. And, Fidget is also the only one from his own gang that is part of The Order, as a latest addition. It came out as a huge surprise to Ratigan, but heck, what were secret societies for? You never know who the other members are until they reveal themselves to you (although to be fair, Fidget was the only one he knew of and that bit of info he found out completely by accident a year ago).

Ratigan folded the letter and hid it in his pocket. He thought of ways to sugar-coat the bad news written in the letter so as not to startle the bat. "She wasn't pleased by ou-MY failure Fidget. We are running out of time and The Society's patience. With the Queen's assassination as a failure, The Order will now have to take drastic measures. After that idiot Remy broke his Oath with The Order and brought the humans' attention to the rodents of London, The Order would have to find ways not to be exposed. And then there is the problem of the Halflings and the recent murders. Do remember Fidget, that we are a cut above an avera -you did not get anything I have said, have you, Fidget?"

Fidget shook his head. The Professor massaged his temple and tried again, "What I meant to say is, that after recent events, SHE is arriving in London to clean up the mess".

Fidget's eyes widened. "At least he understood, that our graves have been dug," mused Ratigan.

After a few minutes of silence, Fidget said, "So what now, boss?"

Ratigan thought for a few moments and stood up. "Come Fidget! We shall pay a visit to Her and the rest of the Council."

The sewer, with its dank, dark, maze-like vastness is a good place to meet clandestinely. But it is not the only place where one can meet up, especially if one is a whole lot smaller than a human infant. For example, the House of Parliament is really dark when all the politicians have gone home.

A lone figure waited on the steps of Parliament. From time to time, he would consult his pocket watch, and would frown as the minutes roll by. It was a quarter past eleven when he hears a scampering sound from the direction of the Thames.

"Finally!" the figure breathed a sigh of relief. Two dark forms emerged from the mist and ascended the steps to Parliament. The figure scampered down to meet them.

"Well, Botticelli, this isn't like you. You're late", the figure gave a Cheshire like grin.

The taller of the two rats that came out of the mist looked down at his comrade and gave a crooked ghost of a smile. "A good evening to you too, Jenner", Botticelli answered. He loomed over Jenner and the other figure next to him. Lord Botticelli Remorso was an imposing figure among rodents. He was part of the House of Lords in Parliament and as if that wasn't scary enough, he was very tall and gaunt, giving him the effect of a walking corpse.

"I'm surprised Jenner. You Americans usually don't have any concept of time", Botticelli mused.

Jenner's grin faded and turned to a scowl. "This time it's different. SHE is returning to England"

Botticelli, usually a calm individual, swore a string of curses. "For the murders and the Ratigan fiasco, I'll bet. Oh, this is going to be bloody..."

Jenner was about to agree when his gaze shifted to the other rat standing behind Botticelli. For some reason he seemed to be twitching... no, he wasn't twitching; he was trying to steady a little bundle in his arms. Said bundle, thrashed wildly around and Jenner just watched fascinated till he caught glimpse of the ears.

"My word! Are those ears of a mouse?" Jenner asked in disbelief. Botticelli frowned in response and walked towards the other rat and, there is no mistaking it now, a young mouse in his arms. To Jenner's surprise, Botticelli gave the mouse a pinch in an ear. The mouse stopped thrashing and glared at Botticelli. The other rat frowned and said, "There was no need for that, Father".

"Father?," thought Jenner. He cleared his throat and Botticelli quickly faced him. "Oh yes, I forgot about the real reason why we are here in this dismal night. This", he pointed at the rat, "is my son Chiaroscuro".

"Roscuro, father." corrected the rat. "Apologies, only father can correctly pronounce my name, you could just call me Roscuro". He extended his right hand, while using his other arm to balance the mouse, to Jenner and gave a grin.

"And this," said Botticelli with slight distaste, "is his son, my grandson Despereaux". He pointed at the mouse.

At this revelation, Jenner was completely taken aback. Before he can stop himself he spat out, "A Halfling!"

There was a tense silence that followed. Roscuro's grin quickly faded and his eyes dimmed. He gently put down his son, whose ears have quickly drooped at the mention of that taboo word. Then he faced Jenner and charged.

"Oh shi..." Jenner almost wasn't able to defend himself. He quickly sidestepped and crouched. Roscuro skidded and did a turn to face his opponent. The two rats began to size each other up. Jenner was taller but Roscuro had more muscle. Jenner quickly noticed the way Roscuro's fur was bunched up funnily in places or how he had a tan; the way he dressed like it was going to rain or the lone earring on his right ear; his battle stance... Roscuro just quickly reached behind his back and took out a carving knife.

Despite himself Jenner gave a grin, "I'm fighting a son of the seas... Botticelli! You never told any of us you had a water lover for a son". Botticelli just gave a curt nod and held Despereaux back.

Roscuro was mildly impressed. "So? It hardly seems fair I'll beat up a lawyer from America".

Jenner's grin grew wider, "Kid, you don't know half of what I do." Jenner reached inside his overcoat and produced a small brass rod with some type of handle. With a flick of his wrist, the rod quickly extended to the size of a sword. What made everybody, except for Jenner, jump was the crackling and hissing noise it made. Jenner gave another flick and the rod began to fizzle with energy.

"Electricity! Why you flea-bitten bast..." Roscuro was able to mouth through gritted teeth.

"Oh? So you know what this is?" Jenner twirled the rod around, "I guess your Botticelli's son after all. Technically though, this is static electricity. The rod gets rid of the built up energy inside it as it makes contact with the air. It's got more than enough though to deal with you!" At this, he charged towards Roscuro, whose turn it was to dodge. He made a feint towards Jenner's right, quickly switching his knife to his left paw and stabbed. Jenner blocked it quick with the rod. Knife and rod clashed and sparked with electricity before Roscuro had enough and used his left foot to do a straight kick at Jenner's solar plexus. Jenner doubled over and Roscuro used this chance to disarm Jenner. Then he gave Jenner a swift upper cut.

Jenner fell over a few steps away from Roscuro. Roscuro disdainfully chucked the rod away and proceeded toward Jenner. He halted over a groaning Jenner. It was at this moment that Jenner quickly produced another small rod and jammed it at Roscuro's thigh.

"NO!" screamed Despereaux as he saw his father fall down. Even Botticelli looked alarmed but he still held Despereaux back.

Jenner stood up and kicked the knife away from Roscuro's hands. "Thought you knew the foremost rule of battle; never EVER let your guard drop. Not even when the enemy is down." He stood in front of Roscuro who was completely paralyzed yet his face still held a fierce hate and he glared at Jenner. Jenner's mouth twitched into a half smile and said, "Even then, the kid has spunk, eh Botticelli? No holds barred. Just like you to me in my initiation test". At these words, Roscuro's expression on his face quickly changed from anger to confusion. "...Initiation?...Wait, what?"

Jenner stooped down and slung Roscuro's arm around his shoulder. Supporting Roscuro's weight, he helped the sailor to his feet. "Yep, initiation. And you passed the first test; which is to battle one of the members of The Order. Usually, you're supposed to win, but there are exceptions to the rule and you kid, are one of them".

Now Roscuro understood. "So all this... was a fluke? Even when you said..."

"Sorry about that, but I didn't mean it in a derogatory way", Jenner stopped in front of Boticelli and looked down at Despereaux and gave another Cheshire grin. "The best and brilliant ones in our Order are Halflings. That would include me." Despereaux and Roscuro were speechless at this revelation. Botticelli just rolled his eyes, "Yes, brag, why don't you? But how about Despereaux's initiation?"

Roscuro mumbled, "So it's not enough I get roughhoused into this shindig, but my son will have to go through with this too?"

"As if I haven't informed the two of you already", Botticelli remarked. "Yeah, you could have told me the initiation would have included a real battle", complained Roscuro. The two started to argue.

At all this, Jenner just scratched his head and looked at the mouse.

"So how are you special, squirt? Aside from you're large...um" a quick glance at Botticelli's disapproving glare shut Jenner up.

Despereaux looked up and carefully chose his words. "I'm a good fencer like grandfather and father has taught me a few moves."

"Nah, those are your physical prowess, squirt. I'm asking about your talent," when the mouse just looked confused, he continued. "You know? Your potential, your special abilities, stuff that makes you a candidate for The Order, your Ali..."

"That's enough", Botticelli quickly cut in. He looked around and about. The London mist rolled gently on the lower tier of the staircase. "Let's not talk about this here. We will continue this later"

"Pffft it's not like anyone is watching or can hear us Botticelli", said Jenner.

"Yes well, may I remind you that your brother isn't the only one with that kind of ability?"

Jenner frowned. "Good point..." he looked at his watch. "We'll be able to find a suitable Initiator for your grandson but it's midnight. Let's get out of here."

Roscuro was massaging the spot where he was electrocuted. "After what you did, don't expect me to be quick"

Despereaux retrieved the scattered weapons. With Jenner half supporting Roscuro, the group quickly made its way down the steps of Parliament into the thick fog, their footsteps muffled by the slow chiming of Big Ben signalling the start of a new day.

To be continued

Author's notes:

The first chapter was supposed to be longer but I thought this was long enough for a first chapter. Just a few notes I want to address;

-Basil and Dawson's attitudes, skills, and the way they interact with each other are based on the characters they were modelled after from the books of Arthur Conan Doyle...and the Guy Ritchie film.

-I set this two months after Ratigan's attempt at the Queen. I do not think Fidget is a complete idiot...

-Yes, Rescuer's Bianca and Bernard. I cannot wait for the intelligent banter/war to begin with Bianca and Basil

-The idiot Remy that Ratigan was complaining about is indeed a certain gourmet chef that we all know and love

- Jenner and his "brother" is from the Secret of NIMH. Botticelli, Roscuro and Despereaux are all from The Tale of Despereaux. I try to mold Jenner from what I've partially read from the books, and I took a few liberties with Boticelli's family tree so I can explore the Halfling aspect.

-Static electricity does build up like that. How Jenner uses it though is complete conjecture. Just like how Robert Downey Jr. used that weapon against the French giant in that Guy Ritchie film I was talking about.

Roscuro and Jenner's fight scene lasted longer than I thought. On the side note, WHAT MURDERS? WHAT ARE HALFLINGS? WHAT THE HECK WAS JENNER BABBLING ABOUT?

Thanks for reading! 'till the next chapter folks.

P.S. You guys can theorize and ask questions in the reviews if you like. I don't mind answering them at the next chapter.

P.P.S. Disclaimer: All the characters belong to their respective owners. I only thought of the story.