C'mon, Benny, finish what you start...

And this took me a grand total of two hours. So sorry for the huge, HUGE hiatus.

Hopefully I can get this finished within the next century...

Anyway. I only own Syl. Spoiler: Next chapter's my favourite! :)

Fidget felt Basil's eyes piercing through his fur. Turning, the bat glared right back and growled menacingly, ears twitching back in an aggression display. Sylvia frowned at them. Her voice was strict and filled with authority, as if talking to children, "Fidget, don't bother Basil." Basil shot him a superior look and Fidget hid under his hat, but Sylvia continued, "And Basil, don't aggravate Fidget." The latter stuck out his tongue at the former. "And both of you, for goodness sake, stop making faces at each other!" The obliged sheepishly.

They quickly hopped a cab headed near Baker Street, Fidget seated firmly and purposefully between Basil and Sylvia. The entire ride, he could feel the detective's fierce glare on him, though he refused to meet it, letting the mouse seethe in his own jealously. He had to hide a smug grin beneath his scarf.

At Baker Street, they leaped off and made their way to 221B. Basil led them between the shrubs hiding his entrance and Fidget shifted nervously. In the home of my worst enemy. It wasn't the suit of armour standing by the door, or the many weapons littering the walls and floor, or the bubbling concoction on a table against the back wall. No, those weren't the source of his discomfort. It was the framed picture of his former boss standing, large as life, on the mantelpiece. Fidget could feel his needle stare following him around the room, gleaming smile only a mask to hide the contempt and fury lurking beneath. As a reflex action, Fidget's ears dropped in submission, and they stayed in that position until Basil led them down a different corridor and Ratigan's gaze was blocked by the wooden door. The little bat let out a deep breath, one he wasn't aware he'd been holding, and he scampered after the mice in front of him with renewed energy.

Basil opened the door to another room and Fidget peeked in. It was a cozy bedroom, warmly lit and inviting. On the bed, covered in patchwork quilts, was a pudgy figure. "Ooh," Fidget winced in sympathy for the older mouse, "he don't look too good."

At the sound of the bat's voice, Dawson turned his head and looked at them, eyes filling with dread when they landed on Fidget. "B-Basil," he stuttered, voice slightly slurred with fatigue and fear, "the b-bat is here. A-am I going d-delirious?"

Sylvia strode to the bedside, opening her medical bag. Fidget kept one wary eye on the elder doctor while watching the younger with keen interest. She took Dawson's temperature, then gave him something to help with the fever.

Fidget hopped closer to the bed and Dawson tensed noticeably in alarm. "G-get away from me!"

Basil came over and placed a comforting hand on his colleague's shoulder. "It's alright, Dawson. Fidget is Sylvia's helper now." Fidget noticed Basil didn't address Sylvia formally, using a casual first name. He tried not to be annoyed. He looked at the detective in surprise, though, when he turned to speak directly to him. "Isn't that right, Fidget?"

There was only one right answer here, the one Basil wanted to hear. So he shrugged as best he could with a cast and said, "sure." At hearing this, Doctor Dawson settled and gave an exhausted sigh.

Sylvia stood and straightened her skirts, giving Fidget a pleased smile, then gave something to Basil, a small container of pills. "Give him one of these every morning and evening and come to me if he gets worse." She wiped her hands on a towel, then dropped it into her bag and snapped it shut. "Come Fidget, it's about time we get back home."

Basil leaped at the opening. "Can't you stay for tea? Mrs. Hudson is making her famous cheese soufflé and it's~"

"I'm sure it's delicious, Basil, but the night continues and I have things to prepare before bed. There are herbs drying and they need to be bundled tonight, so I'm afraid I must decline." Sylvia managed to sound apologetic and stern at the same time. Fidget tried not to snicker at Basil's face. Shot down.

"At least let me walk you home." He persisted.

Sylvia wouldn't back down. "I think we'll be fine, thank you. Good evening, Basil." She nodded politely to him, then motioned to Fidget and strode out the door with her ever-present air of dignity. Fidget finally let out the tiniest of snickers and hopped after the retreating nurse, fully aware of Basil's fuming form behind him.