Episode 1:
Beginnings with Basil
"Basil, for the love of all that is good, could you please stop scraping at that violin?" Scarlett bellowed in disgust as she tried finishing her bedtime story.
"Well, Scarlett…" Basil persisted, "I'm not going to get any better if I don't practice."
Laying belly-up on her bed, an eight year old Scarlett impatiently rolled her eyes as she sat up and turned off her nightlight on the nightstand beside her bed. Basil let of a loud 'huff' as he now stared in pitch blackness at his music-stand. Standing on the windowsill, the little mouse started to pull the string to open up the blinds in order to let the moonlight in. Scarlett quickly pulled a pillow over her face to block out the light.
"It's late, and I'm tired. You're never going to learn how to play that darn thing! It has been two years and you still can't play a single note. Go to sleep, would you? I start 3rd grade tomorrow and would like to not have dark circles under my eyes," she muffled.
Scarlett placed the pillow beside her head when she realized that the room was dark again. She heard the scratching of little rodent paws on her wooden floor and knew that Basil had given in and went to bed.
"Thank you," Scarlett whispered as the sound of the footsteps grew distant.
The Eve Titus book was read to her every night… over and over again until she memorized it. Over the last few years, she finally learned how to read it without difficulty. It was a children's book but she didn't care. She must've read it seventy three times. Children aren't that dedicated to a children's book, at least, Scarlett didn't think so. She didn't mind that she still read it at eight years old. If she's that passionate about it then she didn't want to consider herself a child anymore. If adults are allowed to be that dedicated and passionate about a book then an adult she will be. She was prepared to be proud of her interests while finally entering the mysterious and wonderful world of reading.
Scarlett's grandmother had breakfast set out for her granddaughter and her husband early the next morning. She left a note on a cereal box that she ran out to the store for some eggs. Of course, Scarlett could only shake her head when she read notes like that in the morning. Typical Mrs. Bathurst… always making sure she pleases her husband. No wonder they always run out of eggs; he eats them like there's no tomorrow.
Scarlett knew her grandfather wouldn't be out of bed for another hour, so that gave her grandmother enough time to buy and fix him an omelet before he wakes up for breakfast. Scarlett sat down at the table and poured herself whatever Kellogg's was in front of her. In a silent kitchen that homed no one else but herself, she heard a loud 'thud' from behind her; the startle from the noise had made her jump. She turned around in her chair to see a brown mouse in a robe on the kitchen floor that was standing in front of the refrigerator. He jumped off the floor for a second time with all of his might, in hopes that he'd propel high enough to reach the refrigerator handle. When he failed once again, he slowly turned around to find Scarlett giving him a confused look.
"Good morning, my dear! How are you on this beautiful day? Looking rather sharp if I do say so myself; you'll be the brightest of your grade today. You're not nervous for the first day at all; I can tell!" Basil cheerfully spoke at an ungodly speed. "You must be at such ease that you won't mind a favor placed upon you, yes? Now, if you don't mind, Ms. Bathurst, may I have use of your chair?"
Scarlett gave him a suspicious look as she rose from the chair and headed towards the refrigerator door.
"What is it you want for breakfast?" Scarlett politely asked as she opened the door.
"'Tis not for me, dear, it's for Dawson. The plump fellow has a bit of an appetite this morning… and a craving at that…" Basil rambled as he jumped from shock as Scarlett quickly slammed the refrigerator door before he finished his answer.
"Oh no," she interrupted as she headed back to her seat, "Dr. Dawson is on a diet. He does not need any more cheese this week. Besides, my grandfather is having an omelet this morning; I'm sure of it."
"My colleague is not picky when it comes to cheeses! Give me what kind your grandfather does not use. I'm sure he won't miss them," Basil begged as he scampered his way up towards the tabletop.
Scarlett gave Basil the evil eye and he squeaked with dismay. He made his way off the table and scurried out of the kitchen. Moments after he left, Scarlett's grandmother came back from the store. Scarlett finished her morning routine and headed to school; it's been the same routine… every day of every year.
Scarlett's journey through elementary school seemed just as dull as kindergarten had been. She proved that she had the smarts for school but not the devotion. She was simply uninterested. Her grandparents worried about her quite a bit. Teachers would report to them about how quiet and isolated Scarlett is among her peers in a classroom. The only person she talks to is Anita, but even then Scarlett doesn't talk nearly as much in comparison as her friend. Not only was she an isolated child but she also appeared to have an anger issue. Every other week she'd come home with a bruised lip and note from the teacher. The ignorant and seeming dull remarks from peers seemed to always set her off. However, anyone could argue that it's just kids being kids. Little Bathurst, on the other hand, found her peers rather unintelligent and simply did not approve of their company while she does required activities. If another child merely wanted to help her cut out snowflakes, they'd get threatened with the 'child-proof' scissors. Parent-teacher meetings were quite frequent for the Bathurst grandparents, but the meetings did not seem to matter to their granddaughter one bit since she had no idea what they talk about in private anyways. Scarlett simply lived for the end of the school day. This wasn't unnatural for children; most children didn't want to be in school either. Little Scarlett, on the other hand, had an interest that no one else probably had. She didn't go home to play with toys or daydream about becoming a nurse or firefighter. She lived for the days when she could go home and pretend to be a female detective; a detective like Basil. Her grandparents knew that it's healthy for children to have an overactive imagination, but their granddaughter's obsession was affecting her mood. She didn't pay attention to anyone or seem interested in anything else. In fact, she had always been quite isolated. Unfortunately, Scarlett's tendency to play detective was all in her mind. It wasn't childish play, such as walking around with a magnifying glass or anything. She'd make deductions in her head and overanalyze everything. Her grandparents weren't even quite sure what was affecting her mood. They didn't know that she was playing detective since they couldn't physically see it. All they could see was their antisocial granddaughter developing a more complex field of concentration of everyday objects. Scarlett could stare at the bricks of the fireplace for hours and not break concentration. Staring off into space at the dinner table was a daily thing as her mind wandered into the bottomless crevices of her brain. These changes became more and more noticeable over the years but her grandparents never knew the cause. By not knowing what had an influence over their granddaughter, they couldn't take the influence away. In this case, it's a child's storybook about a mouse. Not even her grandparents could ever have guessed that.
At an early age, she has learned to look down at everybody. Everyone seemed thoughtless to her; they don't care about her interests or try to understand them in any way. Adults put on a performance every day so Scarlett saw it acceptable to do the same. For that reason, she kept to herself. By doing so, she formed a bit of antisocial manner and dislike of people. She liked her interest and that's that. She had an obsession with her dream of becoming a female detective. She had a fascination with breaking down the world to reveal what it really is. Realistically, her imagination of being a detective was just her own cover-up for her childlike desire to understand the concepts of life and the world around her; it's more interesting to pretend to be a detective than just a maturing child.
Scarlett could see that her grandparents thought her obsession was unhealthy which made Scarlett develop a dislike for her grandparents. They were right, though. Scarlett's overwhelming interest in being a detective only made Scarlett more isolated and judgmental of everyone around her. She had formed a temper as a young girl even outside of the classroom. She was always disgusted by small talk when people simply wanted to get something out of her like a 'hello' or 'goodbye'. Her attitude didn't change for years. It doesn't help the situation when all she wants to do is lock herself in her bedroom for hours on end which she had been doing that for years after kindergarten ended. She used to love the outdoors… now that doesn't seem to be the case anymore.
It had always seemed rather suspicious when a twelve year old doesn't even want to make eye contact with her own family. Her grandparents' only choice was to hope it was a phase and wait for it to pass. The principle of her elementary had recommended professional help for their granddaughter in the past. However, Mr. Bathurst wouldn't hear a word of it; in his mind, he didn't see the point in wasting money on a child for adult problems and issues. If a child isn't even fully grown yet, a parent has got to just let them discover themselves. As Douglas Bathurst would complain behind closed doors to Mrs. Bathurst:
"What do they think she is? A psychopath? She doesn't even know how to baste a turkey for Christ's sake."
Scarlett seemed more like a teenager than a preteen. However forlorn she seemed in her appearance, she was really the opposite mentally. Scarlett was the happiest girl in the world by pretending to deduce every aspect of the world and the people that reside in it. Her passion made her appear like the most spiteful, miserable preteen that ever roamed the earth, but she was really just caught up in her own fantasy world as most children are. She could live with that reputation; people would leave her alone if she repelled them enough. She was content with being her own friend.
Scarlett sat alone in her front-yard during the same summer that her grandparents took the lock off her bedroom door. She didn't see how that was justified. It's 1966; it's not like she would do anything wrong. She sprawled out on the grass and closed her eyes, hoping her grandparents were minding their own business inside and not spying on her. She hated being watched, especially when she couldn't see; daydreaming and sleeping outside didn't require her attention to be on her grandparents. On this particular day, Scarlett had her eyes closed for about 5 minutes before she felt something like a bug crawl up her chest. Instinct took over and she swatted at whatever it may have been.
"Holy Mother of Mary, what did you slap me for?" Basil bawled as he clung his tiny claws into her shirt to hang on.
Scarlett only lifted her head up enough to notice who was on her chest.
"Maybe you should warn me next time you decide to go mountain climbing on my body," Scarlett irritably sighed.
She closed her eyes again for a few seconds and reopened them to find Basil leaning on her nose with his arms crossed.
"Listen here, Ms. Bathurst. We've got a case to solve and you're just lying there. Dawson awaits our company in the flower bed. A distressed dove came to our flat this morning claiming that her brother had disappeared late last night while scavenging through your flower bed. His sister claims that he's got into some trouble with Brooklyn blue-jays so God only knows of his condition. I've got the New York pigeons' network looking out for any suspicious activities. I need you to help us identify the types of flowers your grandmother has planted," Basil sternly explained as he jumped down from her face and started pulling her hair to get her moving. "Come on, let's get a move on. The game is afoot!"
Scarlett's irritated mood vanished as she giggled at Basil's sincerity. She followed the mouse and crawled over to the flower bed. Scarlett's grandmother came to the window and saw her granddaughter rubbing the texture of her flowers through her fingertips. Emma Bathurst smiled at her granddaughter's seemingly normal activities.
Scarlett had her pintsized friend at her side at all times. Needless to say, it was more than just having a pet around. For years, her and Basil occupied their time with numerous cases that were trivial to Scarlett but of the greatest importance to her furry companion. Schoolwork and responsibilities at home were the only things that Scarlett had to look forward to since she wasn't much for socializing. Daydreaming and trying to have fun were what made her life worthwhile for the time being, even though she didn't exactly know what to look forward to after school. Worrying wasn't an action that she encouraged, especially when she doesn't even know what there is to worry about. Grownup responsibilities, money, marriage, etc. were all aspects of life that her grandparents spoke of as things she had to look forward to in the future. If she doesn't even understand how the system of life works then what is there to worry about? If she doesn't worry, then she doesn't care. The only thing that mattered to her was the 'here-and-now'… and that consisted of Basil and his bizarre cases. They shared everyday together and only grew closer as friends over the years. Basil didn't just solve crimes with her; he was a constant companion. He was always found on her shoulder every morning at the breakfast table. He waved her off to school during that specific time of the year. He greeted her every morning and every night. So that her grandparents don't freak out, Scarlett had warned Basil from day one to hide whenever they entered the room. Fresh out of kindergarten, she knew that her grandparents would never allow her to own a pet mouse. At the kitchen table, he'd been known to scamper into her hair at a moment's notice. She'd tell him that the coast was clear whenever her grandmother would send her to the bathroom to comb her hair. It was constantly messy from how much Basil had to hide in it. Basil was constantly there and Scarlett never questioned why. However, she did not bother her grandparents with stories of her free time; there's no point. The two of them just knew she was enjoying herself by being alone and doing whatever she wants. They did not question her for they knew she was just a child with an overactive imagination and not a care in the world… just like it should be… for the time being.
Halloween had arrived in the year of 1968. If Scarlett were to be asked what her favorite holiday was, it would be Halloween. Free candy and frightful adrenaline were the only oddball occurrences for a child to look forward to towards the end of a routine year. Instead of surprising herself with picking a random costume, she knew exactly what she wanted to dress up as. To her grandparents' dismay, Scarlett saved enough allowance to buy a deerstalker hat. She wanted to go trick-or-treating as Basil so she even borrowed her grandfather's corncob pipe. There was no way she could afford to buy a calabash pipe so a corncob would have to do. Dressed and ready to go, a fourteen year old Scarlett Bathurst headed down the street a ways to find Anita dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. Her friend jokingly rolled her eyes when she saw Scarlett skip up the street in the detective costume. Anita complained of her inability to obtain a Cinderella costume and how her father's bed sheets were the best she had to work with. She's a spoiled little girl but not that spoiled. Her father promised a nice dress for prom but not for a single Halloween night. After a short talk, Scarlett locked her arm around Anita's as she led her up the street to make her feel like royalty. Scarlett's no 'Prince Charming' but she knew how to make her friend feel better under any circumstance.
The two friends, arm-in-arm, made it as far as Union Street when they stopped at their first house. They were a bit unsure if people were 'trick-or-treating' since the street seemed so vacant on that particular night. The sun wasn't completely down yet, but it was the perfect time for children to go door-to-door without adult supervision… at least, that's what parents thought in New York. The first building didn't look any different from the other homes on the street but its porch lights shone a dark, red color. The luminance gave off a malevolent feel which only gave Scarlett a sense of assurance that the owners were Halloween lovers and candy was right behind the front door. Being somewhat nervous, Anita stood on the sidewalk as Scarlett jumped up the steps to the door. She gave a strong knock on the door-knocker and waited; she looked back at Anita with a look of excitement as she awaited her sugary prize. Rocking back and forth while waiting for an answer, Scarlett knocked again. This time, the door flung open so fast that it startled her. It was pitch black inside the house, so all her attention was focused on the thirty-something year old man standing in front of her. He had a brown suit on and stood in an awkward fashion. A man and woman stood right behind him in the shadows. She could only see their skin and hair, but it didn't bother her that she didn't see them much. The two people in the background stared down at little Scarlett while she focused solely on the man that was in front of her. He had a look of surprise that resembled the one that was on Scarlett's face. His hands didn't touch one another as he twiddled his fingers in an anxious manner; he was obviously at a loss for words.
"Oh, I'm sorry; really, I am. I'm afraid I don't have any candy. It's a shame; Halloween without any candy," he frantically spoke as Scarlett tried to keep up with what he was saying. "I quite like candy, well, who doesn't?" He rhetorically asked as he gave a smile and clapped his hands together a single time. "Um, I'm rather busy at the moment," he rambled as he quickly glanced back at the two people behind him and then turned back to face Scarlett again. "I'm afraid we'll have to chat another time."
His anxiety became more present as he twirled around to go back into the house. At the last second before shutting the door, he spun around on his heels and said:
"Nice Sherlock Holmes get-up, by the way."
The door slammed in front of her face as she stood in confusion. His conversation to her lasted a total of 20 seconds; it was the fastest, most unusual introduction she'd ever been through. He was quite odd but what was weirder than him was his last comment. She drifted down the steps in a puzzled state of mind and walked with Anita to the next house. Scarlett had no idea what he was talking about… and, more importantly, she didn't understand how anyone could not have any candy on Halloween night.
As they went from door to door, the residents would find her Sherlock Holmes costume adorable. However, Scarlett has never heard of him before. She asked her grandfather who he was that night when she returned his pipe. For the first time in a long while, Scarlett made him laugh. He couldn't believe she's never heard of Sherlock Holmes; especially when she's so obsessed with "Basil of Baker Street". He explained to her that her children's book was based off of the novels and short stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. That night, her grandfather had thought he made a horrible mistake by telling her that. Her obsession may only become worse, and it'd make her personality more repelling than it already was. He was right; her fascination on the topic has now been broadened and grown but it did wonders for her personality… at least… from what her grandparents could see. He was wrong in that respect; she began to grown out of her phase and became a more tolerable person. They knew she'd grow out of it sooner or later.
"Why on earth didn't you tell me?" Scarlett shouted excitedly on that late Halloween night.
"You never bothered to ask!" Basil chuckled. "I live in the basement underneath 221B of Baker Street. I take notes in shortpaw when I listen to him describe his solved cases to his colleague. Who did you think I learned all my deduction skills from?"
Scarlett kept bothering him with questions about Mr. Sherlock Holmes as she fidgeted while laying on her bed with her legs crossed. Basil stood on her windowsill, looking up at the moon. He had his violin and music stand at the ready. He never got the chance to play with all her talking; he wasn't used to her chatty behavior.
"Basil!" Scarlett groaned, unhappy that he wasn't answering any of her questions.
She felt that he was ignoring her. Basil slowly put the violin and its bow to his side, and he gave a bittersweet sigh. He grinned up at the night sky.
"I think you're quite right. Maybe I'll take up the flute or some instrument such as that. Goodnight, Ms. Bathurst."
Basil kept the blind open as he crawled down from the windowsill. Frustrated, Scarlett plopped onto her side and pulled the bed covers over her head. He disappeared through the cracked bedroom door and into the lightened hallway. Scarlett never saw him again after that night.
Her mind had been blown away that Halloween of 1968. She'd get her hands on cash for the sole purpose of invading book stores. She'd go to her friend's house to watch 1940's movie versions of "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" and found old posters for theatrical plays. She even discovered that a musical called "Baker Street", based on the books, was released three years ago. She eventually owned the 4 novels and 56 short stories. She reread them numerous times until she understood every word of what she read. Every deduction had to be understood. She even looked at the movies in depth and became her own critic even though she didn't even own a television. The movies connected with the books and all of those connected with her Eve Titus book. That book even had another sequel come out in 1964 which she had never known about before. When Scarlett realized that the Sherlock Holmes in the movies was played by an actor named Basil Rathbone, she got the connection immediately. That little childhood book linked to something so much bigger. It became the story of her life: realizing that fact. Nothing should be overlooked, no matter how small. It may be associated with something of a much greater scale and importance.
She never related with anyone else like she did with that fictional character. She realized that she could never do the same with any real human being, so over the years, she turned out to be a less anger-filled individual. She learned and adapted to being nice and sympathetic to people. However, it wasn't because she was coming out of her shell or learning to like people. It was quite the opposite. She wasn't quite old enough to understand how to communicate or get along with other people when she was a child. That's why she always seemed so spiteful. Over the years, she has become a rather excellent actor. She will always be the same negative, unkind person on the inside, but now, in her older years, she can put on a happy and charming face… regardless of how she felt. The way she saw it, people couldn't help it. Stupidity isn't something that can be fixed, so it's a waste of energy to have anger towards them. Instead, she'll have sympathy. It's not her fault that she believes no one will ever understand the way she sees the world. They just don't and she knows it. In other words, Scarlett still looked at people as lesser than her. She just didn't treat them that way anymore. She thought about people possibly thinking the same way she did… It might be true but she didn't want to believe it. Her grandparents were wrong in that respect; she didn't grow out of her snobby, childish years. Those years were still a part of her; she just learned how to cover their appearance up. In Scarlett's opinion, she will never grow out of any phase. No matter what she has learned or experienced throughout any period of her life, she will always feel like the same person. There is no such thing as phases. And although her grandparents try to ignore the fact, there is no denying that Scarlett's opinion is correct. Although Scarlett has become a more charming and outgoing individual, she still has moments where she doesn't mask up her true thoughts and personality. She is known for having fits of rage whenever she isn't happy about something. Scarlett Bathurst can be the sweetest person one second but become the nastiest the next. However, no matter how upset she is with others, she will always have one true companion. The character of Sherlock Holmes was the closest she ever felt to having an intellectual equal. It's a shame that he's a fictional man.