"Oh dear!" Dr. Dawson exclaimed as he was reading the morning paper. He was sitting at the table with his flat mate, Basil of Baker Street, as they were having breakfast with their morning tea The front page of the paper had a picture of the mutilated body of a young lady lying down on the ground in a pool of bloody with the words 'Mysterious Mouse Killer Strikes Again' in big bold letters; luckily, the body was censored. "Another ghastly murder! And this time, it was a lovely young lady by the name of Clementine Lovell. The poor thing."
"Indeed, Dawson." Basil said, taking a sip from his teacup. "And I believe the deed itself was ghastly as well. Stabbed multiple times in the neck, chest, and stomach, vertically sliced open from the throat down to the groin, and had quite a few organs removed: the liver, one of the kidneys, and even the heart. As if someone was performing a live dissection."
Dawson shivered in fear and disgust at the thought; he didn't need to hear that so early in the morning.
"Dear me, Basil. What a disgrace; that is certainly NOT an appropriate thing to talk about while at breakfast." The sweet and friendly Mrs. Judson said as she came in with two plates of eggs and toast; she placed one in front of Basil and the other in front of Dawson. She took a glance at the front page of the paper. "I feel awful for that poor girl. This killer is scaring the daylights out of Londoners everywhere."
"You're right, Mrs. Judson. I just wish we knew who this killer was." Dawson said, spreading a bit of butter onto a piece of toast.
"Yes, yes. No one knows who it could be because there is hardly any evidence found in any of the crime scenes from what I heard… and that's the beauty of the mystery, my dear Dawson. And the strangest part is that the three victims are all completely different people with different occupations." Basil explained, taking a bite from his eggs. "First there was a freelance painter, then there was a young sailor in training, and now a dancer from a nightclub. I have a gut feeling that someone in this city is trying to replace Ratigan, especially now that he's gone. And you know that my gut is NEVER wrong." He turned to the fireplace and saw the framed portrait of Professor Ratigan sitting on the mantel with a golden bell sitting beside it.
Then there was a knock at the door.
"Now who could that be?" Dawson asked.
"I'll get it." Mrs. Judson said as she went to answer it.
"This is getting more and more complex by the minute, Dawson… and I love it." Basil said rubbing his hands together.
"Oh, hello. Good morning, sir." Mrs. Judson's voice said as she opened the door.
"Good morning, mum. Is this the home of Basil of Baker Street?" A new voice asked. "I must speak with him."
"Yes it is. Please, come in." The kind old lady replied.
Basil and Dawson turned their heads to the door to see a mouse with dark brown fur and dressed in a police uniform enter. He removed his hat.
"Ah, Inspector Winfield." Basil said, pretending to sound pleased.
"Good to see you again too, Basil." The Inspector greeted sarcastically before turning to Dawson. "Oh, forgive me, sir. I'm Inspector Dexter Winfield of Scotland Yard. And you must be Dr. Dawson."
"Oh, why yes. Yes I am. How do you do." Dawson said politely, shaking heads with Winfield.
"So what brings you here, Inspector? Someone's pet bird gone missing? Or an old shoe stolen in the night, perhaps?" Basil asked, his voice cold as ice.
"Oh please, Basil. You know why I'm here."
"You're here because of the recent murders and you and your men can't seem to wrap your heads around it."
"Ugh, all we know is that the victims were killed the exact same way, but with different parts removed."
"Then why come to me? I believe you told me NOT to go poking my nose into Scotland Yard's business anymore."
"That is beside the point, Basil. The point is that I came to you because you are the finest detective in all of Mousedom. If anything goes wrong and if we can't bring this killer to justice sometime soon, then even more mice would most likely fall victim to similar fates and no one will know why, but I know for a fact that you can find the killer no matter what. I… I… I-I… Ugh, I need your help, Basil."
Basil looked to Dawson, who was growing visibly nervous; he didn't want to upset his friend, but at the same time, he was itching to get to the bottom of this thrilling mystery and he desperately wanted to get back into the game. After a moment, Dawson turned to Basil and gave him a nod. He nodded back before turning to the Inspector.
"Very well, Inspector. You've got yourself a deal." Bail said, shaking the officer's hand.
Winfield heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. Thank you, Basil."
"Oye, Inspector!" Another voice shouted as another officer burst into the flat; he had three ragged young boys with him; one looked to be about twelve, the second looked like he was ten, and the third was about eight. "Look what I found trying to rob an elderly couple a block away from here."
"Will you cut us some slack already? My brothers and I were just tryin' to make an honest livin'." The eldest boy argued.
"Tell it to the judge." The officer said.
"No, wait!" Basil said, standing up from his chair. He approached the boys and knelt down to their level. "What are your names, boys?"
The three lads looked at each other, then back at Basil.
"I'm Dylan." The eldest said. "This is Kit, and this is lil' Cole."
"And you're the famous Basil of Baker Street, right?" The second boy, Kit, said.
"Yes, but that isn't important right now. It's dangerous for you to be out on the street, especially with a cold blooded killer on the rise. Your mother will be very disappointed in you three when she hears about this." Basil said.
The youngest boy, Cole, looked away with a sad look. Dylan, the eldest, took his youngest brother's hand to comfort him.
"We ain't got a mom." Kit said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
"Yeah, all we got is each other." Dylan said, wrapped his arm around Kit's shoulder; Basil's eyes widened in response.
"Oh, you poor children." Dawson said as he joined his friend.
"Pfft. Oh please, we don't need your pity." Kit retorted with a scoff.
Then, Basil got an idea. "I know of a place where you three will be safe."
"Oh yeah? Where?" Dylan asked.
"Go to St. Mary's and ask for Sister Lily. She'll help you." Basil replied.
The three brothers gave each other uncertain looks; they just met Basil and they had no idea if they should trust him or not. Little Cole stepped forward.
"…Thank you, Mister Basil." He said in a shy voice.
"Of course." Basil said before turning to Winfield. "Now if you don't mind, Inspector, take these young chaps to St. Mary's church. Then we can discuss the case when you get back."
Although Winfield was very hesitant, he agreed.
"Fine. Follow me, boys." He said as he led the boys out the door. He turned his head to give the detective one last look before leaving. "I'll be back later."
The officers left and Basil closed the door, letting out a sigh.
"Finally. I thought he'd never leave." He said as he headed back to his chair; he sat back down and continued to eat.
Dawson sat back down soon after. "But you meant what you said about St. Mary's, right?"
"Of course I did, Dawson. Sister Lily is always so kind, I know she'll help those boys." Basil replied.
"Good thing, too." Mrs. Judson said before making her way back to the kitchen.
"Ooh!" Dawson said as he picked up the paper again.
"You've found something else in the paper, Dawson?"
"Oh yes, Basil. Look here."
The doctor held up another page of the newspaper; there was an ad for a play that was going to be at Hyde Park; it was going to be put on by an acting troupe known as the Cherry Bloom Players. "It's tonight! Should we go?"
"You may, if you want to." Basil said, sounding uninterested.
"Come now, Basil. It's a work of William Shakespeare. You can never go wrong with Shakespeare. And you never know; you might enjoy yourself."
"…What play is being put on again?"
"Romeo and Juliet. A classic love story."
Basil rolled his eyes in annoyance. "No thank you. All of that heartache and pining and… eugh! No thrill, no fright, and not exactly worth my time." He took a sip from his tea.
"I think it would do you some good." Mrs. Judson's voice said, causing Basil to jump and nearly spill his cup of tea; she took a seat in between the two colleagues.
"And what do you mean by that, Mrs. Judson?" The detective asked his landlady.
"Honestly, Basil. When was the last time you went out and actually had some fun? I think you and Dr. Dawson going to the park to see a good play would be good for you. Not only will you get to experience a bit of culture, but you two will also get a chance to bond as friends and partners. What do you say?"
Basil paused and furrowed his brow in thought; on one hand, he wanted to stay and discuss the murder case with Inspector Winfield. But on the other hand, the play was later that night and both Mrs. Judson and Dawson were persistent. He sighed in defeat.
"Alright, we'll go. But only AFTER Inspector Winfield and I discuss the murder case." Basil said.
"Done." Dawson said as he and his friend shook hands.
0-0-0-0-0-0
"Everything alright in here, Miss Bristol?" A stage hand said, poking her head into the dressing room of the leading lady of the play that night.
She was a beautiful young mouse with pale fur, golden hair, and silvery gray eyes. She was checking the costume she was going to wear for the play that night; it was a lovely red medieval style gown with a long skirt and long sleeves.
"Yes, everything is fine." She said.
"Alright. But I came to tell you that Miss Cunningham wants to talk to you in her office." The stage hand said.
"Oh? Alright, tell her I'll be out in a moment."
The stage hand nodded and briskly exited the dressing room. The young lady took a moment to check herself in her vanity mirror before heading out of her dressing room and heading towards the end of the hall; that was where Miss Cunningham's office was. When she reached the office door, she reluctantly knocked.
"Come in." A voice from inside said.
She opened the door and poked her head inside.
"You wanted to see me, Miss Cunningham?" She asked.
"Ah yes, Sarah. Of course." A mouse with chocolate brown fur and blue eyes said, gesturing her inside.
The young lady, now called Sarah, stepped into the room, closed the door behind her, and walked over to the desk. Miss Cunningham, the leader of the Cherry Bloom Players and the director of that night's play, was sitting at her desk. She tossed a newspaper onto the desk so Sarah could see the headline.
"Another death." Miss Cunningham said.
"And…?" Sarah asked, folding her arms.
"AND this is getting out of control."
"Miss Cunningham, you can't control what the killer does. You know that."
"Yes, I do know that. But listen to me, Sarah." She took Sarah's hands in her own and looked her in the eye. "Ever since you joined our troupe, you've been like a niece to me. And it would tear me apart if you ever got hurt on my watch. I just don't want to lose you, especially at the hands of a cold blooded predator."
"You don't have to worry. I can take care of myself."
"But the killer…"
"The killer may be dangerous, but I'm much tougher than some people think."
"So I just want you to be careful."
After a moment, Sarah smiled and hugged the troupe leader; Miss Cunningham hugged her back. They parted.
"I'm sure we'll have a full house tonight. Break a leg, dear." The elder mouse said.
Sarah giggled.