Basil of Baker Street

the Deadly Assassin

by Dr. David Q. Dawson

During the course of my association with the Great Mouse Detective, we have faced many vicious criminals together. Throughout his career, it seemed as though Basil of Baker Street made a great deal more enemies than friends. I had thought that we would never encounter a more ruthless adversary than that of his archenemy, the nefarious Professor Ratigan. But I discovered that there was another who was just as deadly.

On a cold day in September of 1898, I was just retiring to bed for the night, leaving Basil sitting curled up in his red armchair playing his violin. The melodies he played often reflected what mood he was in, and at that moment, he played a very slow, somber song. He was always in a melancholy mood when he had no work to do. He expressed to me that whenever there was nothing on which he could exercise his powers, his mind was like a racing engine, tearing itself to pieces. He would occupy his time either by performing chemical experiments, which often filled the house with obnoxious fumes; or by playing his violin. Its not that I didn''t enjoy hearing him play. He was a very talented musician, and could even compose his own music. But when I would wake up at three in the morning to hear him still scraping away at the instrument, it was almost enough to drive any mouse insane.

Plaintive notes from Basil's violin continued to drift throughout the house as I treaded wearily up the stairs. I had used some of my scant resources to rent a room just down the street, and had established my own medical practice. Since Basil and I were splitting the rent, I needed some means of income to pay our landlady, Mrs. Judson. It had been a long, tiring day, so I was looking forward to finally getting a bit of rest. But no sooner had I entered my room, when I heard a clatter of footsteps pounding up the stairs. "The games afoot, Dawson!" Basil exclaimed as he entered.

"I take it you've gotten another case?" I asked, noticing the telegram in his hand.

"Yes. Inspector Grayson's asked us to come with all haste to Brixton Road."

I rubbed my eyes sleepily. "Right now?"

""Yes, right now. Its murder this time, and apparently, the lady who found the body is hysterical. Since you are a doctor, I think your assistance would be invaluable." He paused as I unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a yawn. "That is," he added, "if you're up to it."

"How can I refuse?" I replied, attempting to smile as I reached for my medical bag. As a doctor, I always felt a responsibility to help those in need; and although I was loath to leave the comfort of my bed, I admit my curiosity had been greatly aroused.

Minutes later, I found myself bumping along in a cab as we raced to the crime scene. Basil grumbled a bit that we were not able to take Toby, the basset hound who sometimes also aided the human detective above us at Baker Street; but I couldn't help feeling a bit thankful. For some unknown reason, the dog had taken an immediate dislike to me when we had met, and whenever we rode him, I always wound up clinging to his tail for dear life as he raced down the streets hot upon the scent of a clue. But, since he was back with his original owners at the time, Basil and I were forced to take a slower route by cab.

Despite this inconvenience, Basil had cheered up considerably. The spark had come back into his green eyes, and a subdued eagerness in his expression that showed his excitement at no longer being stuck in his rooms with nothing to do. When I questioned him about the case, he shrugged.

"I don't know any more than you do. But judging by the urgency in the telegram, its no small matter."

When our carriage passed Brixton road, we jumped to the sidewalk and began walking from there. After finding the address of the house that Grayson indicated in the telegram, and maneuvering through the small crowd of curious onlookers being held back by several officers, we were escorted by young officer Stephen Hawkins into the sitting room of the house.

"I apologize for the lateness of the hour," Inspector Grayson said as we entered. "But this case is baffling to say in the least, and since you've done us a favor or two at the Yard before, I thought you may be interested."

"I appreciate your thoughtfulness," Basil replied happily, despite the graveness of the situation. "I was complaining to Dawson just the other day that sensational criminals were gone from society. What are the facts?"

"Mr. Edward Davis was found dead about an hour ago by his landlady, Mrs. Martha Greenwood. One of our officers patrolling the area heard a scream come from the top floor, and he found her passed out in the same room with the body. I cant get a word out of her. The poor thing is scared out of her wits."

"I can imagine," Basil replied. "But," he added, throwing a smile my way, "nothing our good Doctor can't handle."

While Basil continued conversing with the Inspector, I made my way quietly to the pale, sickly looking lady sitting in a chair in a corner of the room. I was very careful as I approached her; finding a body in her home was certainly a very traumatic experience, and I didn't want to frighten her.

"Hello, Mrs. Greenwood? I am Dr. Dawson." She looked at me with round, frightened eyes, and shrank at my touch. "Don't be afraid, my dear," I assured her, taking her trembling hand to feel her pulse. "I'm here to help you."

"How is she?" Basil asked quietly.

"The poor lady is in shock," I replied. "She may need a few moments."

Basil nodded and turned to Grayson. "Perhaps we could take a look at the scene, Inspector, while she's recovering."

"Alright. But I suggest you prepare yourself," Grayson added as we followed him up a flight of stairs. "A couple of our officers didn't have the stomach to stay in that room."

The inspector wasn't exaggerating. My nerves are fairly proof, as a result of my military duties in Afghanistan, but I couldn't help but feel horrified at the scene in that bedroom. Mr. Davis's body lay beneath the broken window, blood staining the carpet beneath him. His head had been so horribly mutilated as to make him unrecognizable. The only means of identifying him was a monogrammed pocket watch with the initials E. D. for Edward Davis.

I shook my head. "No wonder Mrs. Greenwood was so frightened."

As Basil began investigating the room in his methodical way, Grayson explained what he knew so far. "He was killed by an expanding revolver bullet. But no murder weapon has been found. There are no traces on the ground below, and nothing which could have been used to climb to the window. And yet it is impossible for someone to have made the shot from the street below, and the house next door is too far away. This is a busy thoroughfare, and no shot was heard. And yet, there is the body, and the bullet that killed him."

"A baffling case, indeed," I noted.

"It is a tough one, isn't it?" Basil remarked as he stood. "'You've been very thorough in your search, Inspector. No traces on the window, no footprints, no murder weapon...a most intriguing case. Have you actually checked the house next door?"

"No, there's no need. As I said, its too far away."

"Perhaps. But a very wise man once said, 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.' A saying Ive found to true time and time again."

"Well," said the Inspector reluctantly, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt for us to take a look, just to be sure. But I believe it to be a waste of time."

I admit I was relieved when we finally left that gruesome scene. After descending the stairs, I went to check on the lady, hoping that she had calmed.

"Dawson," Basil said to me, "while you're helping Mrs. Greenwood, I'm going to step outside for a moment and search the grounds, although I doubt I'll will find anything. It's not that I don't have faith in Grayson's abilities. But," he added with an amused smile, "no harm in checking twice, you know."

Mrs. Greenwood looked up with red rimmed eyes as I approached. "Is...i-is it gone?" she asked trembling.

"Is what gone?" I asked gently as I sat beside her.

"That...that dreadful...corpse. H-Have they t-taken it away?"

"They are removing it now."

"Oh, thank heavens! I can't stand it...I will n-never get that image out of m-my mind," she said with a shudder. "But Mr. Davis was such a nice young mouse. I-I don't understand why someone would...would kill him... and in such a h-horrible way..."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Greenwood," I assured her, patting her hand. "The police and Mr. Basil are doing all they can to find the culprit."

"Basil of Baker Street? The famous detective?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I've heard of him." A look of genuine hope came into her eyes. "Is it true what they say about him? Can he really solve this?"

"I have no doubt of it, madam," I replied confidently.

After finishing his investigation of the grounds, Basil stepped into the room and introduced himself. "Mrs. Greenwood, I am Basil of Baker Street. Are you feeling well enough to answer a few questions?"

"Y-Yes," she replied. "I'll try to answer as best I can. Whatever helps to clear this dreadful matter up."

"Thank you. I know it's not something you would like to dwell on, but can you tell me what happened?"

"I...I'll try," she answered bravely. "I was dusting and cleaning in this room, when I heard a tinkling sound, like glass being broken, and then a dull thud. Mr. Davis's room is located directly above this one, and I thought that he must have dropped something, or had fallen; so I went upstairs to see what was the matter. But when I knocked on the door, there was no reply. The door was unlocked, and I opened it, and... and... oh, poor Mr. Davis! It was terrible! So much blood..." Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, but she dabbed at them with a handkerchief. "I'm sorry. I know I'm a mess..."

"It's quite alright, madam," Basil said understandingly. "Take all the time you need."

After composing herself once more, Mrs. Greenwood continued. "I screamed at the sight of him, and I must have fainted, because the next thing I remember is waking up in the arms of a police officer."

After thinking quietly for several moments, Basil asked, "Can you tell me about Mr. Davis?"

"Oh, he was such a kind mouse," Mrs. Davis replied. "Very quiet, always kept to himself. But he was always on time with the rent, and he was a big help to me. If it weren't for him, I would have had to close this place months ago."

"He is your only lodger?"

"Yes, sir. My husband passed away several years ago, and the children are all grown. No one else lives here besides myself."

"Do you know where Mr. Davis lived before he came here?"

"No, sir, he never spoke of his past. Whenever I brought it up, the most sorrowful look came into his eyes, and he would change the subject. It seemed as if he were almost ashamed to speak of his past."

"I see. Does he have any friends, or enemies, for that matter?"

"I don't think so. As I said, he was always very quiet, and as far as I know, he never went out with friends. He would go to work in the morning and return here in the evenings."

"What was his occupation?"

"He was a carpenter, a very talented one at that. He made some much needed repairs on this house. He made more cabinets for the kitchen, repaired the broken rail on the stairs; he could fix anything."

"Interesting. Did he ever appear to be nervous or worried?"

"He did seem a bit anxious about something. He was always glancing about furtively, jumping at the slightest noise or shadow that passed outside. Ive asked him about it before, but he replied that he had always been a nervous sort."

"I see," Basil said thoughtfully. "Well, I appreciate your time, Mrs. Greenwood. You've been an immense help. I'm terribly sorry that you had to be subject to such horrifying events. But rest assured I will do all in my power to find Mr. Davis's killer."

"Thank you, Mr. Basil, and you too, Dr. Dawson. I feel infinitely better knowing that you're on the case."

Taking our leave of the landlady, we met Grayson and young Hawkins outside. "Well, Mr. Basil, were you able to learn anything from the lady?" Grayson asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Greenwood provided most useful information regarding her lodger." As the four of us walked to the house next door, Basil relayed everything that Mrs. Greenwood had told us about Mr. Davis.

"This Davis fellow is a mystery in himself," Grayson remarked. "Which makes this case that much harder to solve. If he had any friends, we could interview them to see if he had any enemies. But Davis seems to have been a recluse."

"Perhaps he was...hiding from something?" Hawkins ventured quietly.

The Inspector turned to the lad and raised his eyebrows. "And what makes you say that?" he questioned.

"W-Well, sir," Hawkins replied, flinching under Grayson's stern gaze, "w-why else would he make a point t-to avoid society?"

"Excellent, Hawkins!" Basil replied, slapping him on the back. "That was just I was thinking. I would keep my eye on this one, Inspector. He is a bright young lad, and has a lot to offer the force."

Hawkins blushed slightly at the great detective's praise, but his eyes lit up. "Thank you, Mr. Basil, sir."

"Well," Grayson said, bristling slightly that his younger subordinate had lit upon something he hadn't even thought of, "what on earth was he hiding from?"

"That, Inspector," said Basil, "is exactly what we must find out."

Author's Note: The quote by Basil that "when you have eliminated the impossible..." is a quote by the master, Sherlock Holmes.

Disclaimers: Basil, Dawson, and Ratigan belong to Eve Titus and Disney. Grayson, Hawkins, Mrs. Greenwood, and Mr. Davis are my own original characters, so no stealing :)

Reviews are welcome and greatly appreciated ^.^