Whispers in the Dark

Chapter three

"There ya' go, sir. Two paper wraps of me' own fish 'n chips for ya'. Wants some vinegar with that?"

"No, thank you very much sir. I like mine's simple."

Trust the inspector to think about others first and then of himself.

Detective Inspector Clawes was a relatively simple man with relatively simple needs, but when it came to other Clawes by now means in a relatively simple fashion. Being a police officer, he could not say that he had a pretty income, especially with a comatose mother and monthly rent to pay; but he learned how to manage with the little he had. He learned how to sew so he could fix his clothes and would often do some handiwork for the shoemaker as pay for his services. Needles to say, that last arrangement worked quite well for both parties – for the shoemaker having less work to do in the house and for Clawes himself because he was left with a couple of extra pounds in his pocket for just such an occasion.

"Fish and chips, Mr. Basil? I recon nothing could warm a decent Englishman better then one of these on such fine weather."

Basil snorted. 'Such fine weather' indeed… When she visited the fish market a couple of days ago to search for the missing son of some rich merchant a salesmouse had said something along the lines of "if winter ain't here yet then it's definitely commin'".

So said a man that practically lived his days in one of the coldest places of London.

"Inspector Clawes" said she "I would rather you not spend your entire wager on silly snacks, especially if you plan on offering them to someone else. Plus, you know that those things are bad for your health." Still, her refusal only seemed to make Clawes more determined.

"Come now, Mr. Basil. Fish and chips hardly cost anything, and they most certainly are not bad for yer health… as long as you don't eat too much of 'em that is."

Basil rolled her eyes, but accepted the fish anyway. She didn't think much of fish and chips (she considered it to be a 'too human' of a treat and most definitely did nothing good for one's physical appearance) but she knew she needed something in her stomach after her scene in Inspector Vole's office. Apparently, skipping too many meals at a time was – as Dawson had told her time and again – not a good idea.

"Thank you, Inspector." She said, opening the bag.

"You're most welcome, Mr. Basil. But you know, you really shouldn't skip your meals. Now that is most certainly not healthy." Clawes said after he swallowed a chip. "And thank you for what you did back there. It was very thoughtful of you."

"There is no need to thank me, Inspector. I never backed away from a good mystery and this particular one proves to be most intriguing. A shame I remembered that I had my magnifying glass with me after leaving Inspector Vole's office. The old man might have wanted to come."

Clawes nearly choked on his fish. "What are you talking about? You've already been to county?"

"Of course I was. Once I discovered that I already had all I needed on me I decided that it was best to get on the case right away. The more one waits, the cooler the trail gets. It's best to gather as many clues as soon as possible. And since it was a shorter ride to county then to the Yard, I found it was best if I went there first. No use wasting valuable time." She paused. "And something was telling me that the press was still keeping Vole pretty occupied at the moment."

"So… you find anything?"

"Nothing that would actually help the investigation at this time, no – and most certainly not something that would make Vole's situation easier then it is in such a raw form."

"Ah, so you admit that you were thinking of Gregory when you left for county on your own?"

She faked a look of pure shock. "What reason would I have to think of Inspector Vole when I was avoiding the media? Come now Clawes, I know you can do better then that."

Clawes appeared lost for a moment, but then just shrugged and went back to eating his chips. The other mouse sure was perceptive, but sometimes it was better if he could put his deduction skills to better use than trying to read her.

But that didn't really change the fact that he was right.

After hearing Inspector Vole's tale, Basil's mind started working like the engine insides of a Swiss watch, unrelentingly and without stop. It was just no way that her mind could let such a mystery fly past her! She could not wait to get started.

But there was the little problem called "Inspector Vole".

She had told Vole that she was to return to Baker Street to solve a couple of things then come back later on to take a look at the cell in which the unlucky soul had met his end. She did not lie when she said that she was to return, but she might have bended the truth a little when she said that she was returning to Baker Street. Indeed, she did intend to go home, yet she never mentioned the little detour to the city county. She might have left her pipe at home, but never was out without her magnifying glass. It wasn't her fault that the others didn't take any notice of that.

Truth be told, she wanted to take a look at the scene at the crime without Vole hovering over her. Today was not one of her good days and as much as he liked Vole and his questions, today that would only serve as a distraction.

Sure, she could have asked him (politely) to let her have a few minutes alone, but that would just send the inspector even deeper in that dark hole of depression he was sinking in. It was clear that for a straight-forward man like him a case such as this would prove more difficulty then most and that in itself was a blow to his honor as a police officer.

Vole had little imagination when it came to crimes. He was used to do everything by the book, which in his case meant looking into everything with a jaundiced eye, scribble copious notes in his official black book, and pile up the evidence before he draws up an expert conclusion towards the guilty party. Still, one simple look at him had told her that his usual method was not helping him in the least. If she was to ask the inspector to leave her alone for a few minutes, even if it was just so she could move more freely, she would risk damaging Vole to a point of no repair.

It was painfully obvious. The wrinkled clothes, messy fur and baggy eyes were enough to tell her that he had not slept in the last 24 hours. He smelled the essences of wood, stone, transpiration and urine on him, his trousers had little patches of dirt around the edges and he had recently changed his shoes, most likely borrowed a pair from another officer for the ones he had been wearing were two sizes too big and he was shivering slightly. She was able to find a few straws stuck in his fur and had a big stain of rust on his shirt that he was trying to hide underneath his jacket. All those small details clearly indicated that he had spent the night in county searching for clues and it was only by morning when someone had literally dragged him out to warm up. That someone must have suggested to change shoes since the ones he had been wearing were wet, fact deduced by the presence of a cup of warm tea in his office, his shivers and the lack of socks upon his person.

She looked at Clawes for a moment. The person who got Vole out of that hole was clearly concerned for his health, yet failed to understand the psychological complication he was creating.

The inspector had spent sleepless hours cracking his head open for a valid explanation for certain events and because he could find none he was under the impression that he was being useless to this investigation. What the chief of Scotland Yard needed was reassurance that he was indeed needed. Her request of privacy would have been a major blow to his pride and the last thing she wanted to do was to break what little of his pride remained intact.

And now that she herself finished her inspection of the scene of the crime had came to the compulsion that she had acted right.

She felt a headache coming unless she did something to ease her thoughts. While munching on another chip, Basil sought to organize all the extra data she received.

Might as well go for a chronological montage.

It was not long after her slightly unorthodox exit from Vole's office that Detective Inspector Clawes had caught up with her, asking as politely as he could if she had a moment.

"But of course, my good man." She had said in her natural 'I am at your service' tone.

"Well sir, it is about our victim sir – and about his victim. Or, should I actually say 'victims'?"

"Victims?"

"Indeed sir. I didn't want to upset Vole with any more bad news for a while but it appears that getting fired was not the reason he killed Sir Henry. Our men at the lord's place of death found… another body."

To say that she wasn't expecting further complications was a lie, but she most definitely didn't foresee something quite like this. And the surprises just kept on coming from then on.

From what Inspector Clawes had told her, the other victim was a lady in her early twenties and the cook had just confirmed that she was the local baker's assistant. Her body had been discovered in the Richfield family basement. In all the commotion it seems nobody ever thought of checking that part of the house until this morning. Cause of death: a blow to the head by a heavy blunt object. Yard's theory: the gardener killed her for some reason that still needs to be discovered, the head of the Richfield family caught him in the act and then the killer had killed him in order to keep his mouth shut. When the killer had realized what he had done, he panicked and ran from the scene, forgetting all about the girl down in the basement.

Basil was not quite ready to accept their theory though. For once, she could determine no motive for the girl's murder. There simply was not enough data.

Still, there was little time to dwell on the matter for another problem, equally puzzling had captured her interest.

"And another thing, Mr. Basil. Earlier this morning I went to question his family. All that I could get out of them was that our man had been acting strange for a while now. His wife, at least, said that she hardly recognized him. Said that he seemed… possessed."

That word again. She definitely had to see the poor sod's remains, no matter how non-existent Vole said they were.

She ordered Clawes to go back to the gardener's family and ask the wife if she suspected her husband of infidelity. Also, he was to ask the neighbors – especially the ladies – if they noticed anything strange about their mouse and report back to her in two hours tops. She was to meat him on the nearest park to Baker Street.

Once he was on his way, she set to work.

It cost her a biscuit and three bones (which she will have to get from Mr. Holmes's kitchen later that day) to convince Toby to make a detour, but it was well worth the risk of being found by Mrs. Hudson after all she had discovered.

County had been as unwelcoming as it always had been: dark, damp, cold and messy. She was almost 100 present sure that they haven't cleaned the place once since they built it now almost fifty years ago and for that precise reason she both hated and loved the ones in charge of the place.

But maybe for this particular situation she would have hated them a little less if they were to at least wash away some of the mess.

The cell she asked to see was certainly a sight she wished never to see again. The walls were scratched and kicked, bits of flesh and nails still visible on them, though one would clearly miss since almost every single bit of stone was practically painted in the scarlet substance. Also, it was by sheer will alone that she managed to hold on to the little bit of tea she had that morning once she had a good sniff of the air. It smelled of – apart from the usual county aromas – of sulfur and potassium. Not the most attractive fragments in the world, but at least they managed to lead her to what she was looking for. It looked like dust to the naked eye, and it was scattered quite foolishly all around the floor, but it was what she was looking for. Scooping up a bit in her handkerchief for further chemical analysis, she was quite ready to leave.

Of course, that was before something that was partially hidden by her foot caught her eye.

Crouching down, she noticed it was some kind of symbol, that of a star with five corners in a circle within a triangle. At first she thought that someone had drew it in their boredom, but upon closer inspection, she noticed that it was not carved in the stone, but was scorched into it.

After scribbling it quickly on her notebook, she left.

"Inspector Clawes, tell me again what the wife said."

Clawes choked on his fish at her sudden demand but as soon as he could breathe again he said: "Just as I said before. Said that she did not believe he was capable of something like that even if he did tend to look after young girls on the street or when they went to market."

"Those exact words?"

Clawes sighed and pulled out his notebook, managing to flip the pages with one hand. Finding the notes he needed, he said: " 'Why, sir, I hope you are not suggesting I am no longer a looker. I'll have you know that other men fight to have a better look at me and Walter was by no means a fool to leave the meat to have potatoes. And to answer your question, no – Walter was not interested in them other skinny looking things, though as all men he would look after them ones that were pretty. What man doesn't?' And that was in her exact words. "

"Almost – she says ya' instead of you and 'ave instead of have. And the neighbors?"

"Same. Only that one lady said that he…" he checked his notebook again. " 'tended ta' look after them yang' 'on with the green eyes.' "

Now there was something. "Young 'one' or 'ones', detective?"

He checked his notebook again. "One."

She almost didn't catch that, for just then her ears picked up the sound of footsteps. Someone was coming their way: someone light, short of stature – possibly a child – and from the sound of it, someone agile. Hardly a threat, but maybe it was better to watch her pockets. "And the girl you said you found in the basement … what eye color did she have?"

"I'm not sure. I did not believe that something like the eye color of a victim would be of any import- … Are you suggesting that he was stalking her? The girl he murdered?"

"I am not saying anything without the proper evidence, but I have a hunch that that is indeed the case. Ask the police surgeon to confirm the lady's eye color (you have taken her to the mortuary, have you not?). And while you're at that ask Richfield's cook to give you as much information on her as she can (and do not ask how I came to know the cook is a she). A name and address are a good start. Also, see if you can track down any family and when you do I want you to talk to them. Ask standard questions then see where it goes from there; it is still unclear where we should be going with this. When you finish, come to Baker Street and we shall see what's going to be our next step."

"Next step? You speak as if we have actually made progress in this case. Mr. Basil, no disrespect intended, but we are going nowhere! Is there anything that actually makes sense to you in all this madness?"

She did not hesitate. "Several things, actually, though there are several more that continue to puzzle me. Still, for now all we can do is continue to collect as much data and then we shall see what we can do with it. It is a capital mistake to theorize before you have all the evidence. (1)" She took another chip in her mouth and decided that maybe eating fish and chips from time to time would not hurt too much.

"Oh, and Clawes, you may wish to solve the little problem concerning your sudden lack of money. Something tells me that your landlord will not be too thrilled to hear that you could not pay your rent due to a pick-pocketer."

"What?" His hand immediately went to his inner pocket where he knew he kept his money… only to find it wasn't there. "What in the name of…" He turned to Basil, desperate for an answer, but she merely pointed quite casually to the retreating form of a poorly dressed child… with money in his hand.

"Hey, you! Get back here you little thief!" He shot up to his feet and went off in hot pursuit.

Basil shocked her head. Quite typical of Clawes: notices what is less likely to be noticed yet fails to acknowledge the obvious. And he even left his chips behind…

She took out her pocket watch to check the time. Seems it was still pretty early. She still had time to head back and blackmail Dawson into telling her landlady that she had returned hours ago and spent her morning napping. She was sure she could prove that her crumpcakes from the other day were not missing due to a termite invasion.

"Get back here you- AHHH!!! I beg your pardon ma'am. Sorry sir! Hey you! Stop!"

She giggled. On second thought… might as well help the inspector first.

Slowly untying the knot to her four-in-hand tie, she started walking at a casual pace the opposite way Clawes and the urchin had gone. Why men always do it the hard way?

Meanwhile, Clawes was getting all the more irritated with each passing second. Out of all the times when he could get mugged, it just had to be today!

"Stop it right there, you scoundrel!" he shouted… just before tripping on a rock and landing in the mud. He could hear laughter, most certainly coming from that cursed little thief. That only made him angrier.

Slowly, he lifted his head. Mud stained his fur and he could feel something was in his left ear, but the murderous look in his eyes told anyone who looked at him that his outside appearance was most certainly not his priority. Once he blinked the mud out of his eyes, he noticed that the boy – the one who laughed at him… the one who stole from him – was now mocking him.

"Was' tha' matter guvner'? Bit beyond your reach?" The nerve of that scoundrel! He was making fun of him! And what was he- … Oh no… He was fluttering his money right in front of him!

Anger taking the place of logic, he shot to his feet and lunged at the boy. Had he used logic, he would have noticed that said boy was a bat – a bat that was a bit beaten by weather, bit skinny and who was missing an eye, but a bat nonetheless. If he had used logic, he would have been able to see that both bat's wings where in perfect working condition, and this, if he had used logic, he could have deduced what were to happen if he was to simply jump the urchin. Since he hadn't used logic however… he found himself in the mud again.

"Ha, ha, ha!" said the bat, now airborne. "Looks like ya' got in a mess, ain't tha' right, guvner'?" Still laughing, the bat swirled around Clawe's head a couple of times then, when the inspector moved to grab him, he simply moved out of his reach, landed, and then ran off. A crowd had already gathered and he knew better than to sit around and wait until someone decided to help the mouse.

Now that the show was over, it was time to become invisible to the world. Still, being so preoccupied to listen for possible threats and massage his aching wings, he failed to notice the lady with the greenish-blue bandana until he literally ran into her.

"Oh, sorry ma'am!" said the little bat to the lady, and when he considered that he had made enough distance from her went to pull out his earnings – only to find that the money was no longer there.

"Looking for something?" said a voice from behind him and he felt a hand press on his right shoulder. Turning, he found that the lady he had bumped into mere moments ago was holding the money he worked so hard to get.

"Hey! Give me back my money!" demanded the child and moved to retrieve the notes, but the lady was keeping a firm grip on him, thus preventing him from reaching his target.

"Ah, but that is where the problem lies, lad. You see, money is earned through what most consider hard work and labor. You, on the other hand, took these" she fluttered the bills "from a man who had earned them. This sum had nether been given, won or earned by you, thus meaning that you stole it. That makes you a thief and in most situations a person such as yourself is being punished according to law."

Wiggling out of her grasp, the bat spat "Tha' hell with ya', lady!" just before running off.

Watching the little thing go, Basil of Baker Street sighted before taking off the tie she had used as a bandana. She pitied the poor creatures that were forced to steal in order to survive in this cruel world, but there was little she could actually do. Stealing was against the law and she swore to uphold the law, no matter what reason it law was broken.

She only hoped that the little guy won't be too shocked when he was to find her unfinished bag of fish and chips that she had slipped into one of the pockets of his overcoat. He most certainly looked like he needed it more then she did.

"Where did he go?!"

Basil had just finished making the knot back on her tie when Clawes appeared. Truth be told… he had better days.

"Mr. Basil! How did you- But I was running around and - …"

"Do breathe, inspector. And here, clean yourself up." She handed him her good handkerchief for her spare one was currently keeping together the remains of a certain gardener. She knew there was little hope of ever getting it back, but she had her priorities.

As Clawes started to clean himself up, she went to provide him with the answers to his question. "And I assure you, I did not by some miracle just appeared here. I simply took a shortcut. It was clear that the boy wanted to lose you in the busy market, a fact deduced by the fact that there are no other exist from this park with the exception of this one here and beyond it there was absolutely no place for him to hide. Of course, he is a bat so the prospect of flying away should have crossed your mind but if you were to use logic you would have deduced from the fact that he had not took flight immediately after he had taken your money but chose to run, thus resulting the fact that although he could fly he could not do it for a period of time needed by him to flee the premises of the park. So, he took advantage of his small body that permits him to make sudden turns to evade you by running around in circles. After you were no longer able to pursue him, he simply departed towards the exit, where I was waiting for him. Had you taken the time to think things logically you would have discovered that the simple course of action I chose to apply was the most efficient one."

"It all happened in mere moments! How could I deduce all that?" he tried to excuse himself, but Basil merely lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not some kind of a machine, Mr. Basil. I'm not you! I know your methods and I use them every day in every new case that I am given, but how can you expect me to use them in my everyday life? That would mean ignoring all my emotions; analyze the moves of every living creature like they are all thieves and murderers and expecting the worse to come out of everything! That's not a way of life. It's simply not natural!"

"I use them whatever I'm working on a case or not and as you can see they serve me well no matter the situation." Was her response. "You say you know my methods. Apply them! (2) That way you may avoid unnecessary mud baths and get better results. Now, go home, clean yourself up then do as I instructed. If anything comes up, you know where to find me."

After hearing Clawes's "Yes sir" she left the detective to lick his wounded pride and retrieved Toby from where he was playing with the falling autumn leafs. Soon, both mouse and dog were heading back towards 221B.

When they arrived at their destination, she silently congratulated herself for managing to keep her exterior a perfect mask of indifference, otherwise she was sure that her discussion with Dawson would have been even more 'enjoyable' then it already was.

"Young lady, where have you been?" he had asked her as soon as she had closed the front door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "You said that you would be right back as soon as you were to deliver those documents to the Chief-Inspector, but you have been gone and most likely abused your body for four hours to the second!" and pointed at the clock from atop of the fireplace to prove his point.

"In fact, I have been away for three hours and three quarters, which hardly consists of the 240 minutes necessary in order to validate your statement." She said taking off her cap and placing it back on its usual place on the armor. "And just so you know Dawson, I have been spending most of my time sitting down and I have yet to feel any displeasure. You see, old boy, you have been fussing over nothing."

"When it comes to you, Basil, nothing is quite nothing." He replied simply, but when he saw her setting up her worktable and selecting chemicals, he exploded: "Basil! For the name of the all-mighty, we have already discussed this!"

"By 'we' I do believe you are referring to Mrs. Judson and yourself for it's clear that nether of you have taken any time to consult me in the matter."

"Close proximity of chemicals is highly unethical and unsafe for a person in your condition, and you very well know it! You need to take it easy these days, Basil, or you shall find yourself in the situation where I will have no choice but to take you to a hospital and we both know what that means."

She had just lit the fire when the doctor had said those words and paused for a moment before taking out the napkin and its precious contents and placing it on the table. "Come now, dear Dawson, your worry is unfounded and exaggerated. It is not like I am suffering from some rare African aliment. Other women complete their work with little difficulty through these moments and I am convinced that no one died because of it."

"But you are not like other woman, Sherringford Basil!" He snapped at her, his tone sounding harsh even to himself. "I am sorry, Sherry, but you must know that I worry about you. It pains me when I see you neglect your body so and I simply don't know how to prove you that I am only looking after your best interests. I care for you, Sherry, and so does Mrs. Judson. We just want you to know that you don't have to constantly put on that mask of yours."

Despite herself, she smiled. Dawson could not even begin to know how much that meant to her, to have someone looking after her. There was a long silence in the room then, still keeping her eyes fixed on the napkin, spoke in her natural voice: "Dawson, do you think I'm odd?"

Dawson looked perplexed, then tried to answer the question – most awkwardly, one must add. "Well… you certainly are unique, Sherry. Quite a special girl… Mind you, I am only saying it in only the right form of the word and… Oh, and you have a very original way to think and act and…" he gave up. "Do you want an honest answer?"

"If you would be so kind."

"Then I believe you to be downright messed up in the head." He said humorously, and even Basil left out a full-hearted laugh. "Would you mind me asking what brought this up though?"

"I –" she hesitated. "It was just something Inspector Clawes said earlier today. It… got me thinking, I guess." Truth be told, the detective's words from earlier had done more then made her think; they had hurt her.

"Ah…" was all that Dawson could mutter, as if he understood her completely, which was quite ironic since she didn't understand her at all.

She knew that Clawes had the right to snap at her like that. The last 24 hours were hard on him and adding humiliation to lack of sleep was never a fortunate combination, but that didn't change the fact that hearing those words made her feel fragile and broken.

And she couldn't understand why she felt that way. Logic told her that those were simply words spoken out in anger and had no real meaning. And even if they did, then it was her life and she did with it as she pleased. Men do not care what other people say about them and their lifestyle, so neither should she – all she really needed to do was stop caring… simple as that.

But, if it was so simple, then why couldn't she do it? Why couldn't she just pretend that nothing happened and just walk away? It could only save her a great deal of trouble.

Not to mention that once she almost got into a lot of trouble.

She and Toby were making some errands when they encountered a human couple quarreling in the middle of the street. The man was blaming her wife for the fact that he lost his job because she dared to correct him on his spelling while his boss was in the room. When he started calling her names that no man should ever call a woman, Basil was so close to jumping off Toby's back and bite him somewhere where it would hurt, but the dog – apparently sensing her intentions – moved away from the scene before his little master was to do something she would live to regret.

"Sherry… you have not listened to a word I said" The sound of Dawson's voice had pulled her back from her memories, though not quite soon enough, for it seemed that the good doctor had been talking to her for some time now.

"I'm sorry, old boy, I let my mind wonder." Her eyes fell on his bag and hat, and if she knew the doctor well, that could only mean one thing. "You're seeing a patient."

"That was what I was going to tell you. I received a house call while you were still out. It's nothing urgent, so don't give me that look, just a routine check-up on one of my more elderly patients. She lives close by so I should be back in about an hour or so…" he carried on, but it was clear that she was no longer listening to him. She was now opening a handkerchief and scooped some dust from it on a slide and placed it under the lens of her microscope.

He sighted. Why did he even try? "What exactly are you doing there?"

"Just an autopsy."

"A wha- … You know what? Never mind. I really don't want to know. Just don't overwork yourself like you did last time and make sure to eat something before Mrs. Judson comes back."

"No need for that one. I already ate."

She ate? Without one of them forcing it down her throat? Will wonders ever cease? "Did you now?"

Still not looking up from her microscope, she said: "Yes, Inspector Clawes treated me with some fish and chips earlier. They weren't half bad, in fact. Oh, and he may come by a little later to discuss a case, so don't be too surprised to see him."

Moments later, Dawson was peacefully walking down the street, a broad smile on his lips. Seems there was hope for her after all. She will have to discuss these new developments tonight with Mrs. Judson… after they would add some sleeping pills to Basil's tea, or course.

Only problem was, he never managed to return home that night.


– quote from A Study In Scarlet by A.C. Doyle, Part 1, chap. 3, p. 27
– quote from The Sign of Four by A.C. Doyle, chap. 6, p. 112


A cliffhanger! What a way to end a chapter! And I may have been a bit too hard on Clawes, but honestly, I so see this happening. But now be as it may, the mystery only seems to keep on growing, and only so few a answers seem to appear. What happened to Dawson? What does Basil want to do? Will they get to the bottom of this, or will this prove to be - as Vole said - "the one Bassu couldn't solve"?

For the answers to all your questions and more, we shall meet again in the next chapter!

Reviews always welcome and greatly appreciated!