The front room was cozy with the three of them nestled into chairs around the fireplace. The autumn chill outside forgotten in the glow of the afternoon embers. Basil sipped his tea slowly, watching the woman he had known as a mouseling now sitting across from him.
"Millie, I really must ask," he said at last "what are you doing in London? Las I'd heard, you'd decided to stay on the continent."
"I'd have thought, Basil," she smiled, a friendly teasing tone to her voice, "a detective of your notoriety would have figured it out."
Basil swallowed. Millie sighed.
"I came home two years ago, when mother died." She confessed.
Her old friend nodded sadly. "Yes, I had received word she'd passed. I'm so sorry, Millie."
"It's alright." She assured. "I had planned to stay with father. To take care of him, keep him company, you know. But he took a house in London 18 months ago. He felt it would be a more entertaining place for me to live while he was off digging in Egypt."
"He's in Egypt?" Dawson asked, thoroughly interested in world travels.
"I think the need for adventure runs through him like blood, or oxygen." Millie remarked. "Quite like you, Basil. 'Famous Detective Solves Baffling Disappearance.' Well done."
"And you're waiting at home." Basil's voice was tinged with regret.
"I've had my own adventures, in a way." Millie shrugged. "Paris is lovely, and I got to see so much of the continent while I was away. Not quite golden sands, or darkest jungle, but such is life."
The three sat in silence for a moment, before the woman looked around the room.
"Is that cheese pie I smell, Basil?" She inquired brightly, a mischievous grin sneaking across her face.
"Mrs. Judson's cheese crumpets." Basil answered wryly. "I've quite lost my taste for cheese pie, as well you know."
Millie laughed, looking to Dawson. "Did you know, Dr. Dawson, that your partner's penchant for belaying crime traces all the way back to his childhood?"
"Why, no." Dawson replied, taking some pleasure in his usually confident friend's momentary embarrassment.
Millie set the stage for Dr. Dawson, and as she spoke, he could clearly imagine a broken, greying shed nestled in a bank of trees, far back on the manner grounds. A young Millie, at the edge of adolescence and scrawny even under the layers of lace on her dress, wandered through, climbing over roots and stumps, on a mission to find her friend.
She rounded the corner of the shed, once used to house the gardener's tools and now quite forgotten by all but herself and Basil. She could hear the muffled noise of movement coming from inside.
"Basil?" She called. The door to the shed had been padlocked long ago, but a corner of the door had rotted away, creating a small hole just the right size to squeeze through. Millie ducked through the hole, having to stop and sit just inside as she freed her skirts from where they snagged on the decaying wood, and tugging them through the hole. "Basil?"
In the dim light, she could make out the shape of a gangly mouse, all elbows and angles, curled up on a bench in the corner, sniffling.
"Go away." Basil sniffed at her.
"Whatever are you doing in here?" Millie stood, brushing herself off.
"Hiding." The boy admitted.
"From what?" She put her hands on her hips.
"Cook." He admitted with a sniff.
Millie cocked her head, her ears pricked curiously. She stifled a disbelieving laugh.
"What?" She choked back a giggle.
"I knicked one of her pies." He said. "Only I didn't mean to. She's taken to setting them in the cupboard because she says someone's been stealing them when she sets them on the sill. So I thought I'd catch the rascal."
Millie blinked as the confession tumbled out of her friend, listening patiently as he talked.
"So I took one of her pies and I set it on the sill and I hid round the corner and I waited."
"And... did you catch him?" She asked when he paused for a breath. "Who was it?"
"A sparrow!" The boy wailed helplessly. "And he made off with the pie before I could so much as shout! And Lord and Lady Ratsby are coming to dinner tonight and Cook is going to thrash me!"
Millie couldn't contain herself. Her ribs shook as she unsuccessfully tried to stifle another giggle, which turned into a peel of merry laughter. Basil looked at her piteously.
"It's not funny." He said, as though he'd been betrayed.
"Oh, Basil, of course it is!" She giggled, pulling her friend up and dusting him off. "Come on, then." She turned, crouching as she squeezed back through the hole in the door.
"Where are you going?" He asked after her. She popped her head back in.
"Well, I can't capture a sparrow, but I can make a cheese pie." She said matter-of-factly. "And if you'll hurry up and help me, we'll have it back in time for supper and Cook will never know."
"It did look alright." Millie defended between fits of laughter as Dawson chuckled.
"But it tasted awful." Basil laughed.
"Terrible!" She dissolved again into giggles.
"Cook was so angry." The detective continued "She couldn't figure out what had gone wrong."
"You never told her?" Dawson wiped a mirthful tear from his eye.
"If you've have met cook, you wouldn't have either." Millie assured him.
Basil sighed. "I left for school the next morning."
The tone changed in the conversation.
"Yes." Millie said, seemingly distracted. "You'll forgive me gentlemen, but I just noticed the time, and I must be going."
"I'll see you to the door." Basil and Dawson stood as she rose.
"Yes, and... I'll take my leave, shall I?" The doctor looked between them. "Check on those crumpets."
He toddled off, teacup in hand, through the kitchen door, and Basil was at once left alone with his guest.
The two stood silently for a moment, as though unsure of how to proceed.
"It has been... truly wonderful to see you, Millie." Basil offered sincerely. "I do wish you'd written."
"I did." She replied simply. "For two years, while you were away at school. But when you stopped answering my letters those last few months, and then you didn't come home the Christmas I was set to leave for the continent... I rather believed you'd quite forgotten about me."
The tall detective looked stricken, his features softening regretfully.
"Oh... Dear Millie," He began.
"It doesn't matter now." She shook her head, smiling slightly. "It was a long time ago."
"Yes." He nodded. "But now I know you're in London, I hope you would grant me the pleasure of letting me take you to dinner tonight."
"Tonight?" She raised her eyebrows.
"Yes," He insisted. "You may have seen the city by now, but not with me, and I'm afraid I must insist."
He smiled. "I would very much like us to be friends again."
She returned his affectionate expression. "I should like that, too. Dinner would be lovely."