Assault and Battery

This was clearly the best night of Basil's life, but his joy was cut short. Olivia fell back into Ratigan's hands, and after a chase through the stormy skies above London in our respective flying machines, Basil ended up trapped inside Big Ben with the criminal mastermind and the young hostage.

At first, Flaversham and I stared at the hole caused by the wrecked dirigible. All we could do was wonder if anyone had survived. Finally we saw Basil emerge with Olivia. I held Flaversham by his apron to help balance him as he reached for his daughter, but he still wasn't close enough.

What followed next still haunts my nightmares. Ratigan, who by this time was looking far more rat than gentleman, lunged at Basil, knocking Olivia into the air. By some stroke of luck, Flaversham managed to catch his daughter before she fell. I was delighted that the girl was in safe hands once more. Knowing she would be fine, I turned my attention to Basil, who was now on one of the clock's hands. Perhaps it goes without saying that he looked terrified.

"Basil! Over here!" I called.

He smiled with relief but was promptly seized by the enraged rat. I've seen a lot of injuries in my years as a doctor, but never before had I seen anyone torn to pieces before my very eyes. I watched Basil's transformation from an individual in the peak of health into a helpless victim near death. Ratigan was going to kill him as we all watched in horror, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. The conflict only ended when the two of them plummeted from the face of the clock.

Against all odds, Basil survived. He had managed to grab the propeller of the wrecked dirigible and was using it to approach our simplistic flying machine. I frowned. The exercise of using the propeller had no doubt caused Basil's heart rate to increase, making him lose blood even faster. If his back looked even half as shredded as his jacket…!

"Don't worry, Basil. As soon as we return to Baker Street, I'll take care of your wounds," I offered.

He refused.

I consider myself a peacekeeper. If I come to an understanding that someone else and I are never going to agree on a certain matter, I dismiss the subject. In the rare event I find myself in a dispute, the quarrel is generally over in five minutes or less. However, this was one argument I continued for the remainder of the evening.

"Shouldn't you at least stop the bleeding before your don a borrowed jacket?" I suggested after we arrived at Buckingham Palace.

"Excellent advice, Dawson!" he replied. "If I were bleeding, I would certainly…"

"What do you call this?" I demanded, holding out his tattered jacket where he could see the red stains.

"I call it an exaggeration, Doctor."

"No one wins against Basil," one of the guards informed me. "I tried once. I told him there was no escape from Ratigan, but Basil insisted he could help me."

"You look as if you've been positively miserable since you retired from your career as a criminal's henchman," Basil remarked sarcastically.

"I wake up every morning in the security of my own home and have a peaceful breakfast with the most beautiful woman in Mousedom while we talk about our blessings and plan for our future. I haven't heard the noise of carousing in years, and I can't remember the last time I watched anyone get eaten alive. Every day, I have to live with the knowledge that I've gained royal favor through a respectable profession. You're right, Detective. I'm exceedingly miserable. I have no idea how I manage."

Basil tried to smile at the joke, but I noticed he was wincing instead. Slipping on his borrowed jacket, he knelt before the Queen to be knighted, as she had arranged.

"You too!" The guard gave me a brief shove forward. "Guilt by association!"

Even though I had done nothing to deserve the honor, I too was thanked by the queen. As soon as the ceremony was over, I returned to my debate with Basil.

"Are you feeling any signs of fatigue or weakness?" I asked.

"I'm glad you asked! I have the most dreadful migraine! I suspect I got it from being interrogated repeatedly by someone who clearly lacks the knowledge of how to mind his own business!"

"Basil, I understand that you have your pride and that a true gentleman shows bravery despite injuries, and I greatly respect such an admirable quality; however, I think it only fair to warn you that…"

"Let me guess," he sighed. "You're about to give me the speech about how I could bleed to death if I continue to refuse medical assistance. Do save yourself the trouble. I assure you I'm quite alright."

For the record, if anyone else in the world had informed me that they were unharmed, I would have stopped asking immediately. The only reason I persisted with Basil is because I had a feeling he was too proud to admit he was dying, and I knew that almost everyone in the empire would be deeply grieved to lose such a brilliant detective, especially after he had saved the queen's life.

"Basil, I understand if you will not accept my help," I stated as we walked toward his home on Baker Street, "but will you not at least place yourself in the care of another physician, someone you trust?"

He threw open his door, crossed the room, and sank into his chair. "Confound it, Dawson! I have told you thrice already that I am unscathed!"

That was true enough. Even though I had lost count of how many times he had insisted he wasn't injured, he had used the word "unscathed" precisely three times.

It was only a few minutes later that he went into shock.

"Flaversham, can you help me take him to his room?" I inquired.

"Of course!"

After we had placed Basil on his bed, I asked Flaversham to bring me my black bag of medical supplies, and he did so.

"Thank you. I think I can manage from here if you wish to see to your daughter."

"Will he live, Doctor?" Flaversham queried. "Be completely honest. I'd rather know the truth, no matter how unpleasant, than believe a lie."

"If he had allowed me to take care of him sooner, he would have lived," I replied. "Now there may still be a slight chance, but it's nearly too late to have any hope."

He nodded. "I'll leave you to your work then."

With that, he left to reassure Olivia.

When I finally saw how much damage Ratigan had caused, I gasped. "Oh, Basil! I knew you weren't as hale as you pretended, but I couldn't have imagined it was this bad!"

Even though the injured investigator was past the point of making retorts, I continued to talk to him. "It's alright, Basil. No one ever has to know you needed help, and even if someone finds out, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone requires some sort of assistance eventually."

Inwardly, I pleaded that Basil would survive. "May the spirits of Ratigan's victims come to the aid of the one who brought their killer to justice! May the mouse who lived near the human known as 'Hippocrates' guide my hands as I work!"

Looking back now, I realize that this doesn't make much sense, but you have to remember that at the time, it was rather late at night, and it had been quite an eventful evening. Besides, I was rather desperate for any sort of assurance that Basil would not die at Ratigan's hands.

Having cleaned the wounds and tended each one to the best of my ability, I spoke words of comfort to my unwitting patient. "There now. It's all over. You'll probably feel a bit sore tomorrow, but if you just relax for a few days, you'll be completely well in no time. I'll go now so you can get some rest."

It was about then that I realized I had been fooling myself. Basil hadn't heard a word I said, and his pulse was so weak that it was only a matter of time before he would be defeated by the ultimate foe that eventually claims us all.

With a heavy heart, I paused at Basil's door. "Yes, get plenty of rest. May you rest in eternal peace."