Author's Note: Finally I can upload this! Internet sucks lately xDD Now, first full length GMD fic and I think I am heading the right way, since it's almost finished. I am glad to say that it has a few Sherlock Holmes references here and there, so I dare you to find them, lol. Something I should add is this: Basil, though Holmes' counterpart, is not Holmes himself. We have quite the idea of how Basil is thanks to the movie, but I have added some other things in here to give him a bit more depth. Now, I leave you to read: "The Case of the Black League."

Dislciamer: Apply the usual here; copyright goes to Disney/Eve Titus.

I

Basil of Baker Street

This particular case is of extreme importance to both Basil and me, so much that I have been forbidden to publish it for my readers to enjoy. It is a case that showed me not the kind of calculating machine Basil could be at times, but the great pain that resided in his heart and still does up to this day. So important he considers it that he has requested and even made me swear that I would give him this part of my diary to read at night if one of his black moods assailed him. I'd like to assume it's with the purpose of making himself remember, but I shall never know for sure. After all, Basil is yet a mystery to me, a fact that hasn't thankfully changed.

It was a rainy evening of March, the year being 1898, when our adventure started. Since I had been kindly offered to stay at Baker Street, I hadn't noticed the advertisement on the paper I had with so much interest circled until, one day, I found said paper lying around Basil's untouched correspondence. In case I had for some reason move out of Baker Street -or for some other matter-, I headed to Wood Lane and had a look at said flat I had set my eye upon. I didn't find it to my liking after all the trouble I'd gone through to make up my mind, and eventually returned to Baker Street with strange satisfaction: at least I wouldn't have to leave my friend alone, no matter how much he'd wish for me to vanish at times.

When I stepped inside 221B and a half, the odd silence struck me. Normally, there was Basil's ruckus when working or his excited talking when musing to himself; now, our home was as quiet as a graveyard. Save for the cracking of the fire, there was no other sound to be heard. Basil was slouched on his armchair, the sleeves of his robe rolled up, fingertips together and eyes closed. From him, my eyes then went to the bottle resting on the side table. Blast him, I couldn't help thinking.

"Spare me this time, doctor. This one was a two-shot problem," Basil said so suddenly I jumped.

"What was it this time?" I inquired, taking a seat next to him. His eyes were heavy, his body was limp and he talked almost with a bored tone. It would take him some time to shrug off his state of lethargy. "Not cocaine again, was it?"

I tapped my foot against the carpet, watching Basil chuckle and smile. There was nothing I could do to convince him: he would not give up the substance. We both had enough with our pipes and cigarettes, and especially Basil where his health was concerned, but cocaine was his only vice. He had personally told me he would only have it when in a dire need of stimulation, so I couldn't help thinking another black cloud had settled upon him.

To my dismay, Basil nodded. "You guessed it, doctor," he breathed out as I snatched the bottle away. "No, no! Blast it, Dawson, I-" He groaned when he caught me glaring daggers at me. "Dash it all!"

I was not surprised at his nervousness and need of the drug, so his pleads did nothing to deter me. "You can smoke a pipe instead, Basil," I argued, putting the bottle out of his reach. I knew full well he'd soon be raving mad at me, but I couldn't care less. Basil hid his face in his hands. "Basil, you're putting yourself in danger."

"Peril, by the way, that has nothing to do with the one I place myself in when on a case," Basil said, swinging his legs over the armrest of his seat. He gave out a sigh when I didn't respond. "Before you take anything for granted, I am not fighting against one of my black moods, not at all, and it is no case I'm on either," he said, finally opening his eyes. "I just had to. Now give me back the bottle or I shall banish you from this home in Mrs. Judson's behalf!"

I chuckled, fairly amused. "You'd be coming with me then."

Basil released a hearty bark of laughter. "Ha! You leech..." I laughed alongside him; after that, he seemed a lot calmer, perhaps even in a better mood. "Blast it, this inactivity is killing me," he complained, raking a hand through his hair. "'Been here the whole evening in need of some stimulation and I can find none. I've tried to play the violin, but no inspiration would come; I have no chemistry experiments to perform and my cocaine bottle has been snatched away by a cynical thief of a doctor!"

"Cynical, you call me? You could at least care a bit more about your health, Basil; you're still too young to throw your life in the wrong direction." And I meant that.

"Oh, but my life's been quite fulfilling these past few years," Basil breathed out, stretching. "It's true that every moment that goes by I lose a fraction of my faculties, but you cannot believe how much the smoking -and ergo, stimulation- balances the scales."

"You should get some rest," I said, concerned at his weary countenance. "You look worse than last time I saw you, and that was less than an hour ago."

"Perhaps..." Basil murmured, shrugging. "Holmes isn't doing that well, either." And then, his countenance changed. He was more worried about our neighbour than himself. I was sure he noticed my astounded look, because he soon came up with a scarcely uplifting response. "Well, like he said, to each his own matters. Like me, he'll soon get over it."

I remembered the many times Basil had told me about our peculiar neighbour upstairs. This neighbour's name was Sherlock Holmes, if my memory serves me well, and like my friend, he was a detective of a strange sort. I had caught Basil spying on Holmes more than a few times. I considered it rather impolite, despite the vast difference between the bearers of the names, but Basil always said that it was for amusement's sake. Comparing his own habits with Holmes', he said, was what made him most enthusiastic, since he found much in common with the human detective. If it weren't because Nature's law, I dare say Basil would stay up there in 221B for the rest of his life.

I was overcome with unrest and sorrow. Basil had spoken of Holmes with immense respect and even affection, detailing his deductions and some of his cases with that romanticism he accused me of staining my publications with. I had never been more amused, not by the stories about this peculiar human, but because of Basil's excitement and gesturing. His dreamy tone and gaze haven't gone unnoticed either, contrary to his belief.

That moment of silence went by before he said, "By the way, I received a wire from Mr. Flaversham this morning, 'came in with the morning post. He told me that he and Olivia have successfully settled in Canterbury." He smiled now. "With great joy in his words he wrote that he has been praised for his skill several times now. I suppose it won't be long until he gets a position in a company, and oh! won't they have gained somebody."

"That's wonderful news!" I exclaimed. I was delighted to hear of Mr. Flaversham, since he, whilst Basil had been in convalescence at the end of their case the year prior, had kindly discussed with me his plans for the future, and I had wished him the best of luck. "Was there anything about Olivia?"

Basil nodded. "She was accepted into the nearest school almost instantly. As far as Mr. Flaversham has told me, she's receiving an extraordinary education." Basil flashed a smile at me. "Fairly worried about her, weren't you, Dawson?"

"I say, yes indeed," I replied, somehow suspicious of his smile. As I feared, Basil laughed again, throwing his head back.

"Oh, you shall never change!" he exclaimed amidst his laughter.

"Laugh all you want but unlike you, I didn't push the child away as if she were some sort of pest," I snapped, but I immediately regretted it. I had not meant it to come out as a harsh critic, and I feared Basil would take it so. But instead, he kept on chuckling and said,

"That's my disposition; what can I do about it?" Basil shot up straight abruptly, fiercely looking at me in the eye. "But I did tell you the reason why, now didn't I? Since I have," he continued, not letting me reply, "then I will not argue with you. In fact, you insist so much upon it that I can't help but laugh."

In the end, I sighed in defeat: he was right. After his tale of his early life experiences with Ratigan and how horribly their feud and enmity had started, I had never dared question his disposition towards children again. Nonetheless, he himself had admitted Olivia's naivety had been where her charm had resided, so I was led to believe that he had come to terms with her affection towards him.

"She was no pest, Dawson," Basil said. "Actually, aside from my hesitation, there is a trace of... hm, call it 'fatherly instinct' inside me that tends to come up. Don't look so surprised, chap; both of you were newcomers to my world at that time, and I sincerely didn't know which of you I had to look after the more intently. As you might suspect, Miss Flaversham got the good side of the stick that is my benevolence."

"You make it sound eerie, Basil," I remarked.

"Eerie?" He raised an eyebrow, stiffening. "It is simplicity itself! I would consider it stupid and cheeky not to warn you of the mistakes that many who know me have made when dealing with me. At the same time, I suppose you needed no help from me to know your way around." Basil smiled at me. "And I must say, you handled yourself quite well. Your modesty is a double-edged blade."

I was somewhat touched by the sincerity behind his words. Before I could reply, Basil jumped to his feet and stretched again, this time more energetically than before. "Well, I suppose that even under the rain I could spend some time on a walk. You, on the other hand, must be-"

" -tired?" I finished for him. "Not in the least. I'd be glad to make you some company."

My friend kindly smiled at me, discarding his robe.

"Most appreciated. Hm, I'm a dire need of a good book. Shall we go to the book store? From there, it's your choice."

"Very well."

"Finally some movement!" came Mrs. Judson's voice from the stairs. Basil smiled the widest smile of the whole evening. "I really don't like that smile of yours, Mr. Basil. You should listen to what the dear doctor tells you."

"But I am listening, Mrs. Judson!" Basil protested in lighter spirits. He briskly went to fetch his coat. "I haven't agreed to walk with him in ages; what harm can that do now? It's his recommendation, after all, that I exercise in times of ill temper."

"Advice you haven't heeded until now," I replied, laconic and pretending to be hurt. Basil threw his hands up in the air.

"Confound it, you two are in cahoots, I knew it!"

"In cahoots or not, Mr. Basil, you know we can rightfully scold you for keeping up such nasty habits," said Mrs. Judson, heading for the kitchen. Basil turned his back to her, gesturing dismissively with his hand, and Mrs. Judson flashed me one last smile before she disappeared. A familiar smell came from the kitchen, a mere waft that made Basil say,

"Upon my word, let's get out of this blasted place!"

"I say, you wouldn't complain about the smell of-"

" -Mrs. Judson's crumpets?" Basil retorted, swinging the door open. "Of course I can complain about that! You surely must know how unpleasant it is to leave for a walk with an empty stomach, and I can't stand that smell when I'm set on doing something. Blast her and her cooking skills."

I chuckled, amused, as we ventured outside. It had stopped raining and there was a pleasant smell in the air, much more pleasant than Mrs. Judson's crumpets' in Basil's opinion, I'm sure. Basil looked up at the sky and sighed. The emotion in his eyes startled me: either the cocaine had climbed up to his head or he was indeed in such a good state of mind, which wouldn't actually take me by surprise. It might've been cruel to have thought something such as that, but I had seen other cocaine addicts get like that or worse. Thankfully, Basil had quite a high tolerance, so it would take an overdose to see him out of his normal state when having received a shot.

"I shall wish for an interesting case... the sooner, the better, if possible," said my friend as we walked down Baker Street towards Paddington Street gardens.

But then, his wish was fulfilled instantly. A mere ten paces ahead of us lay the bloodied form of a young woman.

With that, our case had just begun.

A/N: Here's the first chapter. The case begins and our friends are on another adventure!

Reviews are appreciated!^^