Chapter One
Meg: All right people, this is my fourth Meg Sarentis/ GMD fanfic. Disclaimer: Basil, Dawson, and Ratigan are the property of Disney and may not be used without permission. Everyone else is mine. Just to let you all know, a certain ra-, erm, mouse, threatened me last Valentine's Day, so I decided to completely eliminate him from this story.
Ratigan: WHAT? You can't do that!
Meg: Umm, yeah I can. You didn't even want to be in the last story.
Ratigan: (Calmly) Miss Meg, I meant that I do not wish to be paired up with the likes of you. You of course understand that?
Meg: Yeah, well, the stories are about Meg Sarentis, and if you're not going to be in love with Meg, then you really can't be in the story.
Ratigan: You'll lose all of my adoring fans.
Meg: And I'm supposed to care?
Ratigan: (Strained, as if trying to not get mad.) My dear, no one wants to read about a little pip-squeak such as Basil of Baker Street.
Meg: Well, Sarah threatened me, so I had to do it.
Ratigan: Threats do work well on you, don't they? (Evil smile)
Meg: Uh oh.
March 1902-
The ship rocked and dipped dangerously through the choppy waters of the East China Sea. I gazed at the port of Shanghai as it approached. Basil appeared at my shoulder, smoking reflectively on his pipe. I watched his jade green eyes scan the letter in his paws for the thousandth time since we started this voyage. Suddenly he said, "Do you know what a 'junk' is?"
"A- I beg your pardon?" I asked.
"Junk. A type of Chinese ship. Curious, curious..." he muttered to himself.
"Excuse me, but what is curious?" I said.
But Basil had gone back to reading his letter. Taken aback by this rather strange behavior, even though it was quite normal for Basil to act like this, I went off in search of Dr. Dawson.
I found the object of my search leaning over the port side of the ship, trying to get over the seasickness, which constantly plagued him. The doctor leaned against some crates and wiped his brow wearily.
"Dr. Dawson, are you feeling better?" I asked.
"I wish I could say I am," he answered weakly. "But..."
"See the horizon?" I gestured toward the city. "We'll be docking soon."
"Good."
"Have you ever been to China, Dawson?"
"Can't say that I have." He wiped beads of sweat off his face with his handkerchief. "My military service reached as far as Afghanistan. But Basil's services are in such want that he is called regularly off on some case or other in a foreign nation. I'm surprised he hasn't been to China before."
"He hasn't?"
"No."
"Dawson, why was he called here? Basil hasn't shown me his letter or anything. I have no idea what we're here for."
Dawson straightened up a bit, but still seemed pale. He said, "Oh, a mouse knows of some problem or other plaguing the Chinese Empire, and wants Basil to look into it. But the letter was very vague, and gives off an air of mystery to it."
"That must be why Basil keeps reading that letter!"
Dawson smiled. "Well, my dear, you seem to be very excited about this. But Basil is a detective, not a mind reader. He won't try to solve any 'mystery' until he hears all the details."
I gazed out at Shanghai, eager to be involved. "I'm so glad Basil brought me on this case. I've been meaning to thank you, doctor. You surely must have convinced him to bring me along."
Dawson leaned over the edge of the ship, suddenly feeling sick again. A few minutes later he sat down on a crate and groaned.
"I beg your pardon, Meg. I never was the nautical type, I'm afraid. Eh, what did you say?"
"I was just thanking you for convincing Basil to take me along on this case of his," I repeated.
Dawson made an attempt to chuckle, but turned a ghastly shade of green from the seasickness. He leaned back and closed his eyes.
"Oh, that wasn't me. Basil was the one who suggested it. He said he had his own reasons for bringing you along."
"For more research?" I asked grudgingly. Basil had hired me as his 'secretary' on some cases, which mainly consisted of long hours in a library researching bits of information he thought would be useful. The work was dreadfully dull, but the thought of continuing my acting career made me feel lonely.
"If only you could read Chinese, Meg." He paused. "No, I believe Basil will reveal everything in his own good time."
Later that evening our ship pulled into dock. We found ourselves in a crowded port area smelling strongly of fish. I grabbed my small suitcase and violin case and followed Basil as he strolled down the gangplank.
I stayed close to the great mouse detective as we pushed our way through the crowded port. I gazed at the odd mice around me. I had never seen such strangely clad people, with slightly slanted eyes and white fur. The women had smooth black hair, which matched their petite features.
"How extraordinary..." I bumped into a heavyset mouse carrying a large crate. He almost dropped his load. "Ah, um, sorry sir," I said.
He yelled at me in his native tongue.
"I didn't mean to!" I said rather sharply as I turned away. Panic gripped my heart. Basil and Dawson were nowhere in sight.
"Oh confound it!" I muttered to myself. Wait, confound it? I'm starting to use his phrases? Just what I want to be, another Mr. Bossy-Know-It-All Detective. Brilliant, Meg.
I pushed my way through the crowd of mice on the docks, slightly panicked. I'm going to be fired, I'm going to be fired was all I could think of as I hurried to find them before they realized that I was gone. It became harder to resist the crowd; I was being pushed around like a rag doll.
I forced my way to a back alley where dirty laundry was hung up to dry. Slowly backing up, I bumped into someone else. Turning around, a very poorly dressed sailor started to bark at me.
"Excuse me," I said quietly, holding up a hand.
He pulled out a sword from his belt. I gave a small yelp and darted off, racing through the congested streets.
I ran out onto a road, tripped, and fell. A wagon sped toward me as I let out a scream.
JWJ: That was not a very interesting chapter...
Meg: (On cell phone) Okay, I'll mention you in the story! Will you please stop threatening me now?
Ratigan's voice: Let me think... no.
Meg: (Stamps foot, almost whining) Why not? JWJ called you a rat, and you don't threaten him!
Ratigan: Mr. Jordan apologized. He was in bad humor at the time because of the Democrats.
Meg: Oh, I hate politics! (Pause) Hey, I'm Republican. You can talk politics with me!
Ratigan: You, my dear, are not as informed when it comes to politics.
Meg: But you like JWJ because he's Republican.
Ratigan: Incorrect. I enjoy Mr. Jordan's company because he is informed when it comes to politics.
Meg: (To herself) This is ludicrous.
Ratigan: (Angry) What did you say?
Meg: Erm, JWJ wants to talk to you! (Thrusts phone at JWJ.) Talk. Quick. And don't stop.
JWJ: Hey Professor! So how'd you think about Bush at the Daytona 500 yesterday?
Ratigan: It was an excellent publicity move.
Emma: Why does the thought of Ratigan and JWJ becoming friends scare me?
