The following morning, Basil quietly walked through his humble home. He had been careful not to pack more than absolutely necessary; he had to leave an impression of plans to return in a few days. His pipe would stay, as would his violin.
He smiled sadly as he thought about the first time he met Olivia. He had been delicately trying to explain why she couldn't join him on his search for her father, and in sitting down, he'd crushed his previous violin.
The child had irritated him at first, but somewhere along the way he had come to care for her. And to think of the way he'd walked out of her birthday party broke his heart. He hadn't even joined the group when Olivia opened her gifts, though she had come into his room to thank him for the magnifying glass he had given her.
Basil picked up his small bag of possessions, opened the door and quietly closed it behind him, and as he walked down Baker Street, he wiped a solitary tear from his cheek.
xxxxx
Dr. Dawson spent his spare time on Baker Street, waiting on word from Basil. None came.
Days quickly turned into weeks, and Basil's friends' worry grew. He had taken trips before, but he had never been gone so long, and never without sending a message to those waiting at home.
A month passed before Dr. Dawson decided it was time to pry. He often wondered what sort of case Basil had received from the queen, and he was determined to find out.
The doctor made his way to the palace, but when he arrived, he realized he wasn't sure how to talk the guards into allowing him to speak with the queen. He finally decided on the direct approach.
Walking up to the guards, Dr. Dawson said simply, "I'm here to speak with the queen."
A guard looked him over. "State your business, chubby. What's your connection to the queen?"
How quickly they forget, Dr. Dawson thought indignantly. "Certainly you recall that I am the associate of Basil of Baker Street, and that three years ago we rescued Her Majesty from Ratigan's scheme to overtake the throne."
The second guard burst into laughter. "You work with Basil of Baker Street? How come you're still here? Why didn't you go with him?"
Not understanding why he was being laughed at, Dr. Dawson answered, "I was under the impression that she didn't need both of us. Basil told me that the queen only needed one person for the case. But he's been gone for a month, and we haven't heard from him."
The first guard joined in the laughter. "Well, of course you haven't heard anything. He hasn't been sent on a case; the queen banished him."
Banished? Dr. Dawson was startled. "What on earth for? What has he done?"
"For the murder of that family. Witnesses are certain they saw him there. Whether or not it was actually him, the queen isn't sure, but I'll tell you one thing: There hasn't been another murder since he left."
If he was indignant before, he was angry now. "Of course it wasn't him. He isn't a criminal; he CATCHES them. And as far as another murder is concerned, doesn't that make you wonder if something worse couldn't happen later? And with Basil not here to prevent it, the culprit will get away with it!"
The guards continued to laugh, but Dr. Dawson only walked away. His world was spinning and he wasn't sure he trusted his legs to get him safely to Baker Street.
Was it possible that Basil was indeed the murderer? Had Dr. Dawson talked himself into believing a lie? They had worked together for three years, but how much did he honestly know about the detective? About his private life?
Dr. Dawson stopped walking at shook his head in disbelief. Impossible! I know him well enough to know that he is incapable of committing such a heinous act.
Which meant someone else was. But with Ratigan dead, Dr. Dawson had no idea who it could have been. And that meant one thing: He had to find Basil and together the needed to prove his innocence.