Chapter Three


(Meg sneaks into room, holding a wooden baseball bat.)

Meg: Whew. No rats in here. But where is everyone?

(Meg notices an ad on the ground for a fancy food restaurant.)

Meg: They went out? But Lizz and JWJ don't like fancy food. Wait, Ratigan might be setting up a trap. (Looks around uneasily) Oh, what the heck. It's creepy here.


"Lot 23, folks. A fine antique violin, complete with bow and case."

Mrs. Judson squeezed my paw. "We'll get this one, we most certainly will m' dear."

I fidgeted nervously, trying to calm down my jumpy stomach. I grasped my purse and looked around me. Luckily for us there weren't too many people at the auction. My eyes rested on an old gentleman standing near us. He looked kindly, just like a grandfather should look like. But my thoughts were anything but sweet about him at that moment. He had bought everything the auctioneer had sold so far; and I was afraid he would want the violin, too. He glanced at me; I quickly averted my eyes, glad my mourning veil covered most of my face.

Mrs. Judson had been kind enough to lend me her savings so we could buy it. We had about 18 pounds between us. The violin would've been about 10 pounds, considering it was so old and worn. But the auction was bound to bring the price up if anyone really wanted it.

"Do I hear 12 pounds? 12, thank you. 13, anyone? 13, 13! Do I have 13 pounds 25 pence?" I eagerly raised my paw.

"14 pounds," the old gentleman on my right said.

"15!"

"16."

"17!"

"17 pounds 50 pence."

"17 pounds 60 pence!"

"18 pounds."

I held my breath, and then raised my paw. Mrs. Judson gently put it down. "We don't have more than 18 pounds, Meg. You know that."

I nodded dejectedly, knowing how pointless it was. "Sold, to the gentleman up front!"


I believe Mrs. Judson thought I would cry again, but I was too exhausted. I just sat in one f the armchairs by the fire and tried to stare down Ratigan's sinister glare as I thought up millions of plans for revenge, each one crazier than the last.

Looking up there, I noticed a picture I had never seen before. It was a photograph of a little girl and her father. The father looked rather dignified in his overly large glasses and serious expression. But the little girl caught my attention. Wearing a large bow and a private school uniform, I could see even in the picture that she was trying hard to suppress a smile.

"Mrs. Judson," I said, picking up the picture and showing it to her, "Who is this family?"

She took the picture and let out a chuckle. "Why, that's Mr. Flaversham and his daughter Olivia." I gave her a quizzical look. "Olivia was once a, well, "client" of Mr. Basil's. Mr. Flaversham was the toy maker that Ratigan- oh, I..."

"You can finish," I said. "The toy maker Ratigan kidnapped. I remember now."

"Yes, well, Olivia sends a letter to Basil once in a while, the dear." Mrs. Judson smiled. I, meanwhile, sat deep in thought.

They were the father and daughter I had seen in my dream last night!

I was sure it meant something. Ratigan obviously had it in for both of them after the Queen's Jubilee four years ago, and Anne and Josh would be considered enemies too, for their involvement in his total humiliation almost a year ago in Denmark. Ratigan might have it in for Dawson only for his partnership with Basil. But I really didn't see the connection between Mrs. Judson and my dream. She had never been involved in any of Ratigan's schemes, and had done nothing to him to say the least.

Another strange thing I had not noticed before was that Basil hadn't been in the dream. That was very strange, since he was Ratigan's greatest enemy. Why had I not seen him murdered along with the rest of them?

There was a knock on the door. Mrs. Judson left me to my thoughts to answer it. I still pondered over this information when I heard a kindly old voice ask, "Is Mrs. Joshua Havers here?"

I jumped up out of my seat and turned around. It was the gentleman from the auction!

"I... I'm Mrs. Havers," I said uncertainly, walking up to him and shaking his paw.

"Yes, well, I do believe you aren't too pleased with me about now," he said. I must have looked confused because he continued; "I didn't mean to seem so rude at the auction today. I understand you are the wife of the deceased."

"Oh, yes, I am."

"I am so sorry, Mrs. Havers."

"Thank you, Mr...." I let that sentence hang in the air, hoping for a last name. He didn't say anything. "Well, would you like to come in, sir?"

He paused. "I have come here on business, Mrs. Havers." I closed my eyes in despair. Another tax collector.

"How much haven't I paid this time?" I asked quietly.

He looked panicked. "No, no, Mrs. Havers! I think I better explain my business. You see, ah-" He held out a violin case. I gasped, hardly daring to believe it. "Well, ah... would you please take it? It's your husband's."

I slowly took the case and opened it. Inside the case lay the violin, old and a little battered. But at that moment, it was the most beautiful object in the world.

I looked up at my mysterious visitor. "Why... I... I... I can't take this, sir. You paid for it."

The old man clearly had not been expecting this. "Mrs. Havers, please. A friend, who has wished to remain anonymous, wishes you to have this. He hired me to buy all your husband's worldly possessions at the auction today. And he will not be taking any of it back. It's yours."

I was at a loss for words. "Why... thank you!" I beamed and gave the old man a big hug. He seemed rather taken aback.

"Oh, well don't thank me, Mrs. Havers. Your friend..."

I pulled back. "Who is this friend?"

He answered, "I'm not at liberty to say."

"You won't tell me anything? Why the secrecy?"

"He's afraid you'll want to pay him back." The old gentleman put his top hat back on. "Well, I best be off. Your possessions shall come within the morrow."

"Wait!" I said before he left. "May I write out a thank you to this friend? Please," I added, when he turned to go again.

"Well... all right," he answered. He waited patiently as I wrote out a quick letter and sealed it. He took it without a word.

"Good evening, Mrs. Havers," he said, tipping his hat.

"Good evening. You don't know how much this means to me, sir."

That was the last time I ever saw him... or so I thought.


Dr. Dawson saw something fairly odd while returning to Baker Street that evening. He saw an old gentleman leave their flat on Baker Street. The unusual part was that he looked all about him before making a mad dash for the alley next to the flat, as if he did not want someone to see his actions. Dawson followed the old mouse and watched as he climbed into Basil's window on the ground floor, arousing his suspicion even more. The doctor followed close behind, making sure to keep some distance between himself and the stranger.

Dawson climbed into the bedroom, but amazingly enough, the mouse did not seem to notice. He had cracked open the door and was looking out into the study. Dawson walked up to the mouse and tapped him on the shoulder. The old one jumped and spun around, looking greatly embarrassed.

"Oh, I-, I'm so sorry old chap," Dawson found himself saying. "Didn't mean to scare you."

The mouse looked greatly annoyed at this statement. Dawson suddenly remembered that he was there to get rid of the mouse, not apologize. He tried again with a more confident attitude. "Do you know you are trespassing on private property, sir?"

The mouse folded his arms and glared at the doctor. "Ah, yes, well... hrm," Dawson muttered. "Well, see here, I'm going to have to call the police if you refuse to leave. This is breaking and entering!"

The mouse clamped his paw over the doctor's mouse as he glanced fearfully at the door. "Shhh, Dawson, keep your voice down!"

"Well, I- wait, how did you know my..." Dawson looked more closely at the mouse. He recognized that voice and those deep green eyes. "Basil? What on earth are you doing breaking into your own home?"

"Shhh! Dawson, this is one time I wish you'd just stay out of my affairs!"

Dawson gave his friend a concerned look. Basil would have never made such a mistake as to use the doctor's name, especially without changing his voice. "Basil, I live here too. Now please tell me, whatever is the matter with you? You break into your own bedroom, spying on the inhabitants on the other side of the door, whom you know, dressed as an old gentleman! I believe I have a right to know what this masquerade is about!"

"Well," Basil began. He silently closed the bedroom door and window and began to take off the white powder covering his fur. "I just... oh, all right I'll tell you everything! Dawson, I can't stop thinking about Meg!"

"Naturally we are all very worried about her, especially since Josh-"

"It's not that!" Basil practically yelled, interrupting Dawson. "I... I think I'm... I have emotions for her."

"Basil," Dawson began, hardly believing his ears, "Are you in love with her?"

"Of course not!" Basil said stubbornly, crossing his arms and glaring at his partner. "Love is such a... meaningless word. You can't truly love someone-"

"Oh, balderdash!" Dawson passionately interrupted. "Any sensible mouse can fall in love."

"Yes, but I don't know what to tell her! At times I just want to pick her up and hold her, comfort her, get rid of her pain. But then I remember Josh, and all he meant to her. I know in my heart that I could never replace him, even if she could ever feel anything for me."

Dawson patted the detective's back. "Wait until her wound heals, until the grief lessens. Until then be a close friend."

The detective slowly smiled at his friend.

"Thank you Dawson."

"Oh Basil? One question."

"Yes?" he asked.

"What in the world were you doing dressed as an old gentleman, anyway?"

Basil looked even more embarrassed. "I went to the auction today and bought every single one of Josh Havers' possessions. I chased many eager buyers away by telling them the auction was cancelled. I came by this evening to tell Meg of a "friend" that bought everything for her. I'll have them on the doorstep by tomorrow morning."

Dawson stared in amazement at the detective.

"You bought everything? You're absolutely mad, Basil! Obsessed! Where on earth did you store all of this?" Dawson asked.

Basil walked over to a large, sheet-covered pile Dawson hadn't noticed before. He pulled the sheet off, revealing furniture, clothes, and mementos, anything that Josh had owned. Dawson burst out laughing.


I gently fingered the violin for the thousandth time, so happy.

The front door opened and Basil and Dawson came in. Basil went straight to his chemistry set without saying a word. Dawson came up to me and exclaimed, "Why Meg, you managed to get the violin! I knew you'd be fine."

"Actually..." I started. I explained to Dawson the visit from the old gentleman. Dawson smiled, obviously excited by this news.

"Did you hear that, Basil?" he asked. "An old gentleman came by not twenty minutes ago to give her the violin! Wonder who your good "friend" is?"

"Hmmm, that's nice," Basil muttered a few seconds too late. He seemed very absorbed in his work.

"Is he on another case?" I whispered to Dawson.

"Well... let's just say Basil needs some time to think. He should be normal in a few days." Dawson winked at me.

Basil walked over. "Normal? Hrm! Meg, would you be so kind as to let me see that violin?"

"Oh, certainly." I handed it to him.

He examined it thoroughly and then handed it back to me. "You've got a good friend," he said. "This is Josh Havers' violin." He stood there expectantly, as if waiting for me to say something. I simply nodded. He turned back to his chemistry set.

I fingered the strings and listened as they vibrated softly. "Basil?" I asked timidly.

He whirled around rather urgently. "Yes?" he asked nervously.

I paused. Basil normally never revealed his feelings like this. Why was he acting so strange? My first thought was that maybe, just maybe Basil had been the friend who had bought the violin for me. But he would never waste money on such a thing. He and I weren't even friends.

"Basil, could you teach me to play?" I asked shyly. "I know I can't play at all, but it seems like such a shame for this gorgeous instrument to go unused, and I think it'd be just grand to be able to play." He stopped at stared at me. I became the nervous one. "Oh well, if you're too busy, that's fine, I'll just-"

He walked back over and smiled. "It would be an insult to his memory if you didn't learn how to play." Basil tuned it for me and pulled out some sheet music.

"Wait, are you going to teach me now?"

"There's no time like the present," he replied. "Unless you'd rather wait?"

"No," I said. "Please start."

As Basil showed me hold to hold the fragile instrument, he passed a wink on to Dawson. I never saw it.

Outside the wind howled in the cold November air, a pair of yellow eyes glared at the happy scene inside the flat on Baker Street.

She's mine. All mine. You'll pay for this, Basil!

(JWJ, his girlfriend, Emma, her boyfriend, Lizz, her boyfriend, Sarah, her boyfriend, Leigh, RAEB, and Ratigan are all sitting at a table in a fancy restaurant. Meg comes darting in, only to discover all of them sitting together.)

Meg: Hold on a minute. YOU'RE ALL EATING TOGETHER?

JWJ: Well, it is Valentine's Day, and I promised my girlfriend that I'd take her out.

Meg: Okay, Lizz is with Kris, Sarah with Jesse, and Emma with Dom. Then who are your dates, Leigh and RAEB?

Leigh: We don't have any.

Meg: And Professor, I thought you were busying trying to kill me.

Ratigan: You're not worth the trouble.

Meg: (To herself) I don't know whether to be happy or insulted.

Ratigan: Besides, I just had the most intriguing discussion with Mr. Jordan over here.

Meg: Wait, you talked POLITICS with JWJ?

Ratigan: Why yes.

Meg: Whatever. Okay, since everyone else, except Ratigan, has a date, I'll just get my own. (Snaps fingers and Johnny Depp appears.)

(Ratigan snaps fingers and Johnny is placed next to Leigh.)

Meg: Hey!

Ratigan: That's for that miserable "Goodbye to You" story.

Meg: Fine, be that way. (Snaps fingers, and Orlando Bloom appears.)

(Ratigan snaps fingers, and Orlando is placed next to RAEB.)

Meg: Hey! I'm not stealing your dates!

Ratigan: That's because I don't date, missy. Perhaps the next time you decide to write a story you'll reconsider matching me up with someone.

Meg: Well, then who's my date?

Ratigan: (Getting up) That's your affair. (Leaves the room.)

Meg: How come everyone else has all the fun? (Grudgingly) Happy Valentine's Day everyone.