Note: Due to the fact that this was written such a long time ago and I think I could do a much better job, or at least clean it up a bit, I've taken it upon myself to rewrite and or edit this story chapter by chapter.
Prologue
He gasped, tearing at his pillow with frantic grasps. "Filly… No… said to stay… I'll get her… NOOOOOOO!" He lurched up in bed, his breath coming in great gulps. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the phantoms he had seen a moment ago in… his… dreams. Frustrated, he dragged his paws through his sweat-soaked hair. Sighing, he pulled himself out of bed. There would be no more sleep that night for Basil of Baker's Street.
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Chapter I
The whistling tea-kettle called him to the stove. Mechanically he lifted it off the burner and poured its contents into a thick, lumpy brown mug. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. Olivia had dropped by his home Christmas morning to present her gift.
"Made it m'self." She had grinned impishly.
He picked up the mug and moved into the living room, easing himself into the armchair. Staring blankly at the cold fireplace, he stirred the tea aimlessly.
I should make up a fire if I'm going to sit here all night. But he made no move to do so. His vision was spinning and he was sucked through the years and the darkness…
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"Now, dear, be careful with her!"
He stopped for a moment to glance at the speaker, a slim, beautiful mouse with soft, white fur. She had put on a light, patterned summer gown, and her paws fidgeted with her necklace.
Basil laughed at his wife's concern and called back, "Come now, Filly, do you really think I could hurt her even if I tried? She's a big, strong girl, aren't you, Leesha?"
The mousling gazing up at him gave a smile fit to split her light-tan face. "Of course father! I can take on anything!" she rammed into him to prove herself, and he obliged by falling down dramatically.
"Oh, I'm wounded," he wailed, "The great Leesha has brought me down."
The little one paused from her play, worry creasing her face.
"This is the end of me," he continued. Terrified that she had actually caused her father harm, she scampered to his side. He promptly caught her up in his arms and twirled her around and around as she shrieked in delight…
Abruptly the image warped and shifted. His child's face twisted with fear, screaming… screaming…
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"Oh, my good fellow, are you alright?"
Basil started, spilling stone-cold tea all over his night-robe. Years of training leapt into action as he leaped across the room and placed the intruder in a stranglehold before he realized that the spluttering mouse he was holding was Dawson. He let go, deeply embarrassed. "Oh, Dawson, it's you. So sorry old chap, through it was… someone else."
"I'll say!" exclaimed the portly mouse in bewilderment. "Where on earth did that come from?"
"Nowhere… and everywhere," was the uneasy reply. He bent to clean up my mess. After a brief pause, Dawson joined him.