I am so sorry for the delay in posting chapters. As I have finals coming up and a lot of rehearsals for the show that I am in, updates will unortunately be sporadic. I promise I will do my best to post new chapters when I can.

Anyway, here's the second chapter. Feel free to review!

Enjoy! Wiedersehen!

Narwhals Forever

Edmund tapped his foot, annoyed. "Are you going to let us in or not, Basil?" He asked, annoyed. "It's actually rather cold out here."

Basil was too busy gaping to hear. All he could see…all he could think about was Ratigan. Sitting. Right. Here. On. His. Doorstep.

Edmund rolled his eyes, making an irritated "tschk" noise. "Well?" He asked.

Basil came to his senses. "Edmund!" He cried. "How dare you bring that disgusting sewer rat here with you! Why is he not locked up where he belongs? Why are you-"

"Temper, Basil, temper," Edmund cut in smoothly. "Remember what mother always said about your temper. And remember what she also said about manners, Basil, particularly about leaving guests out on the doorstep in the cold."

Basil fumed. "You," he muttered through gritted teeth, "Are not a guest. And that criminal," he spat, pointing at Ratigan, "is most certainly not a guest either."

"Client then," Edmund remedied. "Now, if you excuse me." He bent down and began dragging Ratigan into the parlor, pushing Basil rather roughly to the side as he began dragging Ratigan into the parlor.

Basil considered throwing them both out, but Edmund had said he ws a client. Now, brother or no, enemy or no, his set of morals and rules prevented Basil from doing anything about it. One might think that it must be a set of peculiar morals indeed, but they were what they were, and Basil grudgingly let them in, slamming the door behind them (being sure to catch Ratigan's tail in the door).

"Tschk. Now really, Basil, was that necessary?" Edmund asked.

"Quite."

"Hm. Now then," Edmund straightened, brushing off his hands. "I suppose we should start off with a usual greeting. How have you been?"

Basil glared coldly at Edmund. "You are my client, not my guest. Kindly explain what you are doing here, Edmund, and why you have brought the most fiendish criminal in London, who tried to kill me scarcely five hours ago, to my doorstep."

Edmund looked stung, but only for a moment. He quickly replaced it with his usual cool gaze. "Alright then. Fine. I have come because I need you for something. Him too," he said, nudging Ratigan with his foot, "which is why I haven't turned him in to the police yet."

"Him?" Basil's eyes narrowed. "What exactly do you need?"

"Help. With a case," Edmund explained.

Basil rolled his eyes. "What kind of case?" he asked, irritated.

"A foreign affair," Edmund reached into his suit jacket pocket. He pulled out a folded piece of calligraphy paper. "A foreign threat, actually."

Basil's curiosity was stirred despite himself. He snatched the paper from Edmund and unfolded it, his emerald green eyes dancing over the paper.

He looked up at Edmund. "The crown jewels of England?" He glanced back down at the paper. "Or it's the life of the Queen, and-"

"And the prince and princess," Edmund completed, "the Queen's grandchildren, who are currently visiting."

Basil squinted. He looked at the paper, inspecting it closely. He waved it in the air a couple of times, and rubbed it between his fingers. "Maldonian?" he asked inquisitively.

"Correct." Edmund said.

Basil's eyes traveled down to the unconscious criminal mastermind laying limp on the floor. Edmund shook his head.

"That's what I originally thought too, but he couldn't have. He was preoccupied at the time this letter was sent."

"When was it sent?"

"Yesterday morning." Edmund smiled a wan little smile. "The only reason we're taking this seriously is because… well. Turn it over."

Basil obeyed. His eyes widened at the sight of the map on the back. It was a map of Britain, albeit there were 'x's marked in odd spots along the shores and in the countryside.

"British troops," Edmund explained. "Whomever sent that note had an intimate knowledge of Britain's military forces, so intimate that he may be in the vicinity of her Majesty as we speak." Edmund cleared his throat. "This is a delicate matter, very delicate indeed. We do not wish to declare war on Maldonia at this time, for practical purposes. Besides, evidence suggests that this letter wasn't written by a Maldonian native. All we know for sure is, the doors to the chambers in which the crown jewels are stored are to be left unguarded tomorrow night at seven o'clock, or the Queen and possibly the prince and princess will be killed. Possibly in a matter of minutes."

"So it's a planned out operation, with multiple parties included," Basil reasoned.

Edmund gave a nod. "We believe that is so, yes."

Basil's interest gave way to suspicion. He glanced at Edmund. "So what do you need my help for?"

Edmund gave a wry smile. "While not quite as intelligent as I, you are still one of the smartest mice in Britain, at least that I know of. And in a delicate matter such as this, I need all the help I can get."

Basil glared at Edmund for a second, then looked down at Ratigan. "And…what do you need him for?" He asked.

Edmund shrugged. "I told you. I need the best minds in Britain."

"He's not going to be willing to help, Edmund."

Edmund gave another wry smile. "I can be quite persuasive when I want to be," he said, perhaps a bit menacingly.

Basil raised an eyebrow.

"So. Basil. Are you going to help or not?"

Basil didn't like the idea of helping his brother. He'd honestly rather let Edmund solve his own ruddy problem. But this case was far too interesting…and dangerous…to leave alone. And the Queen was in danger...Basil huffed.

"Fine. I'll solve it for England's sake. Not yours."

Edmund sighed and shrugged. Fair enough. Now." He briskly paced the room. "Here are the details. Oh, and Basil? You may want to sit down and take notes, or whatever it is you do when listening to clients."

"I don't need to sit," Basil grumbled. "And Dawson's the one who takes notes."

"Whatever. So. The letter arrived at Parliament at about nine-thirty yesterday morning. It was addressed from the Maldonian capital of Aganaza. I was called in immediately after it was read by officials. After studying the case and the letter, I realized that whomever had written the letter was-

"A stout fellow, right-handed, well-bred and clean, most likely of mixed Irish and German descent," Basil and Edmund finished together, in unison.

"Right. The writer of this letter clearly did not speak Maldonian as his first language, seeing the awkward word order and sentence structure. However, I knew it wasn't a one-man job, so I inspected it closer. What could be gained from having crown jewels? Not much, financially speaking. It isn't as if they could sell it for much without being tracked down. No, whomever wants the jewels has some grudge against England, her Queen, Maldonia, or more likely, me."

Basil snorted. "That doesn't narrow it down much."

Edmund glared at him briefly before continuing. "Whomever sent this letter must have wanted to start something between Maldonia and England, harm the queen, or get me in trouble by having the public blame me when the jewels were stolen."

"Why would the public blame you for the crown jewels going missing?"

Edmund rolled his eyes. "It wouldn't take long for people to learn that we had to allow the jewels to be taken. And who would get blamed for that? Head of security. In other words, me."

Basil nodded.

"But, in the off chance that the letter wasn't written as a personal vendetta against me, the queen, or England herself, they may just be trying to get Maldonia in trouble. Who would have a grudge against Maldonia? Or its monarch, Prince Jannick?"

Basil briefly thought of his houseguest, but quickly shook that thought out of his head. Of course not. It couldn't be.

"There are many possibilities, Basil. That's why I need you and Ratigan. Ratigan, being a criminal himself, knows all the inner workings of a criminal's mind, and in turn may get us a motive. Once we have a motive, you and I will track down the suspects and get this whole matter taken care of."

Basil considered it for a moment. Well…

Suddenly, the door to the kitchen opened. A tired Mrs. Judson, still in her nightie, stepped blearily into the parlor. "Basil? I thought I heard voices-" She paused. She rubbed her eyes and took a look again. Two Basils? And a large gift-wrapped thing in the middle of her floor? What on Earth?

"Am I dreaming?" She asked no one in particular, looking around.

Basil was about to assure her that yes, this was a dream, she should go back to bed, but Edmund began first.

"My dear lady, I assure you that you are quite awake."

"I am? But then what…" Mrs. Judson looked at them, confused. She glanced at Ratigan on the floor. "But…but who are you? And who is that?" She stepped closer, her eyes studying Ratigan's face. Recognition flashed across her face and, before Basil or Edmund could react, screamed at the top of her lungs.

A banging sound out of sight, and suddenly Dr. Dawson and Relda burst into the room, looking around.

"What's going on? What's this all about?" They asked. Dr. Dawson spotted Ratigan lying on the floor. "Who is that? Is that Ratigan? What is he doing here! Basil! Who is that? What's going on?"

There was shouting and commotion and chaos.

Huh. It's rather like a Christmas from my childhood, Edmund thought fleetingly.

"ALL RIGHT! CALM DOWN!" Basil shouted over the commotion. "I WILL EXPLAIN EVERYTHING, JUST WAIT A MOMENT!"

"Basil, explain this right now!" Dawson demanded, tapping his foot impatiently as he comforted Mrs. Judson, who was quite hysterical.

Basil opened his mouth to explain, but was cut short by another scream from Mrs. Judson.

On the floor, Ratigan was stirring. Suddenly, Ratigan's eyelids snapped open.