Chapter 1

Meg: I am going through the painful process of rereading all my fanfic and editing the grammar and spelling mistakes. Blame it on my being a perfectionist. Disclaimer: Basil, Dawson, Mrs. Judson, and Professor Ratigan all the property of Eve Titus and Disney. Everyone else is mine. I OWN THEIR SOULS! Mwhahahahaha!!! Enjoy.

Sweeping furiously, I made my way across the room, raising dust as I went. A mace fell off a bookcase; I squeaked as the spiked ball rolled toward my paws.

I sighed, picking up the weapon and placing it in Mr. Basil's "armory" closet, which contained an assortment of daggers, swords, sabers, guns, chain mail, and various other weapons. If only he'd leave his weapons in there! I continued my cleaning.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Basil of Baker Street darted into the flat, nearly bowling me over. He rushed to a bookcase, frantically searching various books for something. He must have been hot on a case.

"Let's see, hmm... no, no. Green coating. Wait, no, this isn't it. No!" He tossed books aside as he looked. "AHA! I've found it!" Basil exclaimed.

Curious, I leaned over and watched as he unwrapped an elaborately decorated golden container from a rather ragged kerchief. It was a gorgeous thing, round with a scarlet colored coating in places. Intricate designs of angels covered the container. A small crank, shaped like a rose, barely protruded from the side.

"By Jove, the old boy was right!" Basil muttered to himself.

"That's so pretty, Basil," I said. "May I see it?"

Basil jumped, suddenly aware of my presence. "Absolutely not! Mary, I am working on a VERY important case. This is valuable evidence!"

"I'll be careful."

"No, no, I can't risk it. You may have the rest of the day off; I need to concentrate. Now please leave so I may work." He turned back to the container, which I could tell was a music box. My anger boiling, I turned to leave.

I glanced at one of the book covers on my way out the door, a volume on the royal family crests of Denmark. "Mr. Basil," I ventured to say, excitement growing within me, "I am Danish. I may be able to help you with the royal family history. Let me help!"

Basil gave a little chuckle. "My dear, you do not have experience in such matters as I am faced with! Believe me, you would be more of a help to stay out of this case."

I lost my temper. "FINE!" I yelled. "Just go off to do your stupid case; I didn't want to help anyway!" I stormed off to my room and slammed the door shut.

I was fuming. How could he! That ungrateful jerk! It's his fault I've been here for so long.

Why was I here? Well, my name is Megana Sarentis. I was born in Denmark, on a small farm near the Baltic Sea. My parents passed away when I was 9 years old, so I moved in with my grandmother, who lived outside of London. When she died 2 years ago, I decided to become a Carmelite nun, at just 15 years of age. I was in training until several of my elders declared me "temperamental", and sent me to live with one Mrs. Judson, who was the landlady for the famous Basil of Baker Street. I would work there, in hopes that learning to respect an employer would control my temper around the Carmelites.

I would not mind the job at all if it were not for the employer. Mr. Basil is so infuriating! Everything must go his way! I cannot stand being bossed around by him. He cannot even get my name right. Mary indeed!

"Meg, Meg? Are you in there? What's wrong?" Mrs. Judson called through the door. "I'm fine," I sighed. How will I ever become a nun?

Basil worked day and night on the music box. There was no key to the crank, and Basil didn't want to disassemble it, for fear of erasing a clue. Some clue was to be found inside for sure. But exactly what, Basil did not know.

He had hoped to find a clue that would lead him to the whereabouts of Princess Christine of Belgium. She had been kidnapped 14 years ago, but no one, not even Scotland Yard could track the kidnappers of the 4-year-old heir to the throne. Now, the princess must be about 18 years old if she was still alive, but her country was in a state of ecstasy without a monarch. Basil had been hired to solve this case once and for all, in hopes that the girl might still be alive.