Chapter Three


RAEB: Meg's studying for her lifeguard exam, so I have to do her dirty work for her. Okay, this chapter is very important. It's the conflict! (Yay for English classes!) Anywho, we meet an old blast from Basil's past-

JWJ: (running, long strips of cloth and clothes trailing after him) Get her AWAY from me!

Meg: (running after him) Get back here JWJ! I need a victim!

RAEB: Meg, what are you doing?

Meg: (stops) I was trying to make a sling.

JWJ: (from another room) NO SHE WASN'T! She was tying me to a chair!

Meg: (running into next room) You have to restrain a victim who won't stop squirming!

RAEB: God help the poor people whose lives will be in her hands.
"An' that's wha' happened, boss," Slackett said, rubbing his paw on his injured head. "The girl ran off an' we got beat on the head with those stick-things the police carry around."

"WHAT?" Professor Ratigan grabbed the thug's throat, slamming his head against the wall. "You mean to tell me that you found that music box, but let some little WENCH run off with IT!" He tightened his grip unmercifully. Slackett gasped for breath.

"Not 'xactly... ooff!"

Ratigan leered at the unfortunate mouse, his voice a deadly whisper. "You will find that girl and bring her back to me with the music box. And if you return this time tomorrow night empty-handed, you will curse the day you were born!"

He dropped the minion on the ground in a heap. "GET OUT!" he screamed. "OUT, ALL OF YOU!" The henchmen stumbled to the door, each not wanting to be the last one out. Ratigan smashed a chair in his anger.

The idiots! Had the perfect opportunity, and still managed to let a defenseless girl slip through their paws!

But how did she come across the music box? It surely wasn't hers; it belonged to the late Princess Christine of Denmark. She had suffocated in the bag Fidget had been carrying her in 14 years ago. She died just before she got to London.

Royal family had paid ransom money well. Never returned the body, for fear of leaving a clue. Dumped her in the Thames.

How did this girl get the box? Been looking for it for over two years; disappeared after my "death."

Ratigan held up a glass of champagne, still pondering the thought. Aha! Old Boru had known his intentions for the music box several years ago. When he found his hideout in ruins, the music box was one of the many things taken. But the police had taken not all of it.

You had your eye on it many times, didn't you? I'll pay you a little "visit". Maybe you'll remember what you did with it..."
Slackett and the rest of the gang were trying to find the girl where they had lost her. Suddenly, the group ran into GC, one member who had escaped the beating by the police officer.

"Hey, GC, where were ya? The Boss is really mad at us. He told us that we had to find the liddle wench who slipped off, 'cause he-"

"Shuddup, idiot!" GC covered Slackett's mouth. "Lissen, I found 'er. I followed 'er to the detective's 'ouse! That Basil of Baker Street, who the Professor really 'ates!"
Baker Street had been much closer than the convent, so I slipped into the empty flat with my key. I locked the door, closing all the drapes and lighting only one candle. I was terrified.

Basil must be still looking for me. I now wished I had never run away. I almost got myself killed! Still afraid, I went to the armory closet, and pulled out a small dagger, just in case.

I sat down in Basil's armchair and sighed with relief. He would have to come back soon. Mrs. Judson must have gone out to help, too. They would be back.

A slight jiggle at the door made me jump. Is it Basil? I thought to myself. I edged toward the door, grasping the dagger tightly. "Basil?" I called out in a small voice.

"No, this is Dr. Dawson. If you would, could you open up? Basil told me to come here, " a quiet voice called out.

Joy washed over me. It was just Basil's partner. I ran eagerly to the door, unlocking it and pulling out the door chain. As soon as I did, the door slammed on me, and the same thugs who had chased me earlier entered the room.

"Get 'er!" GC yelled.

They grabbed my paws and shoved me against a bookcase. In my shock I dropped the dagger. I kicked and screamed at loud as I could.

"Shud 'er up!"

Suddenly, something smacked me on the head. The room began to spin.

Blackness surrounded me.
I opened my eyes to a canopy of red above me.

What happened? Where am I? How did I get here?

My head was sore. I suddenly remembered what had happened before I had been knocked out. Was I at Baker Street? I reached for my necklace, but it wasn't there.

Alarmed, I slowly leaned up. I was on a king-sized bed in a small wooden room. The only light source in the room came from a single lamp at a desk. I leaned back down, dizzy. I thought I had seen someone there.

I looked up again. Someone was there. An extremely large mouse with glasses was reading something at the desk. He was dressed in a plain white shirt. He was the largest mouse I had ever seen. Even his tail... his tail! No mouse had a tail as big and worm-like as that. He was a rat!

He must have sensed I was watching him, for he looked up. He took off his reading glasses and set the book down, standing up. I now recognized that face. It was the same one that hung on the mantle; the same one that had brought little children to tears at the Queen's Diamond Jubilee three years ago. It was Professor Ratigan!

I screamed, trying to get off the bed. I was still lightheaded. I stumbled to the floor. He strode toward me. I tried to get up, but only succeeded in tripping over my own tail. Ratigan pulled me up with one powerful arm, shoving me onto the bed.

"Mary, Mary, Mary," I whimpered over and over again.

"Stop your whining girl," he snarled. He gripped my arms tightl.; I was sure he was going to squeeze me to death.

"But... but... you're... you're... dea... dead," I stammered. "You... died when you fell... off... Big Ben."

"And you believed that miserable pip-squeak Basil? That I was dead? He's only a second-rate excuse for a detective, my dear," Ratigan leered evilly at me. "But I am UNSTOPPABLE!"

"Please, let me go," I begged. "I'm only a poor Sister, a Carmelite nun. I have nothing you'd want. Please, I won't tell anyone about this. I have nothing."

"Oh, but you do, Meg," he said. "You do."

"You know my name?"

"I know all about you," he answered. "Your full name is Megana Trina Sarentis, but you go by Meg. Your parents were David and Mary Sarentis, and they were farmers near Alborg, Denmark, on the Baltic Sea. They died of typhoid fever when you were 9. Your grandmother, Catherine Sarentis, on London's West side, raised you until she passed away two years ago. You then joined Our Lady of Mercy, to train to become a Carmelite nun. You still had three years before you could make your final vows until you were suspended for a period of time for behavior problems. You were set to work for Basil of Baker Street, just two months ago. And here you are," he said, grinning at my shocked expression, "in my humble home.

"You have something I've wanted very terribly for quite some time," he continued. "That music box, you didn't acquire so valuable a trinket on your own now, did you?"

"I... just found it?"

He let go of me, and strode to the desk. "Meg, I know you're lying. I don't like liars." He reached into a pocket of his overcoat. "Do you know what I do to liars?" he asked me. I shook my head dumbly. He pulled out something long and slender from the coat.

Suddenly a loud ringing came to my ears, and a pistol stood smoking in his claws. To my terror, a small bullet-hole on my dress was also smoking, next to my hand! I almost fainted.

Ratigan came back, still holding the pistol. "I believe I've made myself clear, Miss Sarentis," he whispered. "Now, I will ask you again one more time: Where did you get the music box?"

I was so scared. He would murder me without thinking twice about it. I decided to tell the truth. Besides, no harm could come from this information anyway... right?

"Mr. Basil had found it," I said. "I don't know where. I'm just the housemaid."

"Good. Now we're getting somewhere," Ratigan said. He then pulled my necklace and the music box out of his pocket. He interlocked the roses and turned the crank. The music came out softly, echoing off the walls of the room. "Sing, Meg," he commanded, even though I had already started to say the enchanting words.



"Sing sweetly sing sweetly my rose, my love

Who watches me from heaven above,

Sing softly sing softly to the stars of night

As they gently caress me in the soft twilight.

Hear my blessing, maiden so dear

Forget the evil this world bears,

Watch for one by the gate

A flower, who will seal our fate.

Sing sweetly, sing sweetly my angel of light

The past whispers secrets into the night,

Safely here, my troubles are gone

As I sing to you this song."

I slowly opened my eyes. Professor Ratigan was staring queerly at me. It mad me nervous. What was going to happen to me now?

He turned around and walked out of the room.

I ran to the door and tried to open it. Locked.

After searching fruitlessly for another exit, I sank back down on the bed and awaited his return.


Meg: Yes, I know, another "Let's bring Ratigan back to life even though there's no possible way he could have survived the fall from Big Ben" story. But hey, Ratigan is one of Disney's most sinister villains, and Basil would not be Basil without a foe worthy of his detective skills. You just have to love Ratigan for that.

JWJ: Well, I don't love Rati-face at all.

Meg: You've never seen the movie at all.

JWJ: So? I still don't love him.

Meg: Well, no one loves you either.

JWJ: See how mean she is to me?