I do not own any of these characters, I only own the plot of the story. The character belong to their respective owners and creators.
Author s note: Inspired largely in part by the Cowboy Bebop movie. A strange thing to inspire a GMD fanfic, but bear with me, you may like it. Implied relationships between multiple characters, and alittle shonen‑ai. If you don t like& don t read, savvy?
He was all alone. Never anyone to share the game...
Basil had chased him this far. The train was alive with panic as the detective moved steadily from car to car, pursuing the rat ahead of him who shot recklessly at my friend and myself, endangering all those around him.
"Doctor! Help them to the back of the train! Quickly!" Basil shouted to me as a throng of screaming civilians rushed past us in their haste to get away from the mad man in front of them.
"But Basil‑‑!" I protested, helping along a few very frightened passengers.
"Don't wait for me!" Basil cried before disappearing into the box ahead of me. Perhaps I should have listened to my companion. But there are times when I must be a friend first, and a physician second. My duty was to him. And Ratigan...alive. How yet I had not deduced, though I'm sure my friend had figured it out long before now, before our chase had lead us here to his ghastly situation. My heart was in my throat at the thought of Basil facing that demon alone, and I would not fail him.
Basil found Ratigan alone at the head car. The only other occupant in the room was an unfortunate mouse who had received one of Ratigan's bullets squarely in the face. The detective stepped over the body, his pistol aimed steadily on the rat just the same as the professor's was trained on him.
"Ratigan!" Basil shouted to the towering, madden figure who stood in front of him.
A smile spread across the professor's darkened features. "Have you been following the scent of blood, detective?" he asked in a calm drawl that was all too typical Ratigan.
"You've run out of room to run, James." Basil said, using the professor's first name for perhaps the first time. There was something pleading in Basil s eyes, something he couldn't completely hide from himself, or from his enemy. Basil cocked his revolver. "Don t make me kill you."
Ratigan's insane smile grew into a grin. "I'm not afraid to die, detective. Even in death the game is never over. Our little game..."
Basil s eyes narrowed. "You re an original, aren't you?" he muttered moving forward a few steps.
For a moment they stood there, two mortal enemies, locked in silent combat with each other. They both hesitated. Why? I never knew... for at that moment I made my own fatal mistake. I was swiftly approaching from behind, hoping that if I could get to Ratigan first...
But I saw the rat s eyes slide past Basil to look at me. He moved his hand ever so slightly, and fired. I was nothing to Ratigan. My life was worth less than that of an insect to him. That is why he fired at me, and not my companion.
I took the blow in the shoulder, and I heard Basil gasp in shock as he turned to glance at me. I fell to the ground, very much alive, but somewhat stunned. Had I not been so foolish....
Ratigan did not move, and suddenly Basil was upon him trying to bring him down. The two clawed and exchanged powerful blows with each other, for despite their size difference Basil was quite powerful, and this time he was not caught unawares as he had been on Big Ben.
Ratigan clouted the detective hard across the face, causing Basil to gasp painfully and spit blood, but the detective got his own blow in, striking the rat hard several times in the belly with powerful thrusts from his foot.
Ratigan staggered from the blows and toppled over, striking his head against the corner of one of the seats, leaving him lying stunned upon the ground. Basil wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, taking a moment to recover himself, and then moved to stand over the fallen man, his pistol ready.
But Basil didn't see Ratigan's clawed hand come up and plunge into his chest, he only felt it. The gun fell from Basil s hand with a clatter as he choked on shock and pain, blinking down slowly at the claws that had buried themselves inside his flesh, soaking through his clothing to leave patches of scarlet.
"Is that all you re made of, detective?" Ratigan asked serenely, twisting his hand which made a sickening sound as it tore through Basil s flesh.
Basil let out a gurgled cry and yanked himself backwards, clutching his wound as he toppled to the ground, riddled with pain, hardly able to breathe. I watched it all from where I lay, too stunned to move or even cry out. I saw my friend lying prone upon the ground, writhing in pain, and I suddenly felt as though Ratigan had struck me in the heart rather than the shoulder.
The professor's claws were dripping with blood as he stood and approached the curled form of the detective upon the floor and reached for his throat. Basil then made one last feeble attempt to defend himself. He had picked up the fallen revolver and as Ratigan's hand reached to grasp his throat, the detective fired.
The spray of blood from Ratigan s wounded hand speckled both his and Basil s fur crimson, but Ratigan hardly seemed to be afflicted by the injury. He pulled the gun from Basil s hand and tossed it aside, then examined his bloody paw, lifting it to his mouth...and sucking on the blood.
I stared in revulsion as I began to recover from my shock, slowly making my way to my feet, striving not to be seen or heard.
Basil lay on the floor staring up at the beast that loomed over him. Ratigan leered down at him, his jaws dripping with his own blood, an evil gleam in his eyes. For the first time I saw Basil shake with fear. The rat reached down and roughly grabbed hold of Basil s face making the poor man gasp in pain. The Rat then leaned over my companion, closing the distance between them, but I could not see what happened, I only heard Basil give a muffled cry.
I was on my feet now making my way towards the villain, my blood thoroughly up. I couldn t shoot, what would happen if my bullet ripped through him and reached Basil too? The poor man was already gravely injured.
But the closer I got, the more I realized what he was doing to my friend, and I m afraid my reason left me. "GET AWAY FROM HIM!" I cried, striking him hard in the head with the butt of my gun. Ratigan grunted and fell away, leaving Basil lying gasping on the floor, his muzzle covered in blood.
I whirled on the monster as he tried to get back up, the barrel of my gun staring him steadily in the eyes. "You bastard...you...you..."
Ratigan only looked at me as if I were a fly buzzing around his head. I felt my finger squeeze the trigger. I was going to end this insanity right now.
"Doctor no!" I heard Basil yelp and he jerked my gun backward as it went off, shattering the glass of the window behind Ratigan. The Rat saw his escape and fled, leaving us alone once more in the train car.
I turned once more, astounded at the actions of my friend. He was lying there on the floor, looking up at me, face pale beneath his fur, but his green eyes were locked on mine, his hand still clutched my cuff.
Then those same steely green eyes clouded over as he slumped lifelessly at my feet. I managed to catch him before his head hit the floor. "Basil!"
It was by God s grace alone, I think that my friend survived all his injuries. I had been nearly certain that they would be fatal. He had needed a good deal of cleaning up, covered in blood as he was, and his wounds needed stitching and binding. It would be sometime before they would heal. But I was more than happy for that. Perhaps then I could find my way through the mystery that was detective Basil of Baker Street. And sort out my own feelings as well.
Even now, many hours after the incident, sitting in the quiet dark of a hospital room where my friend remained unconscious, I could not conclude what had made me react as I had on the train. Certainly people were known to do extraordinary things when their lives were at stake, but this couldn't be entirely contributed to that alone.
Something...had gone off in me when I saw Ratigan leaning over Basil like that. Something I couldn't all together explain. And what that had ignited, had been fueled by Basil when he stopped me from murdering the fiend.
I had tried to convince myself that it was merely my friend stopping me from committing a crime, from sinking to Ratigan's level. But his eyes...his eyes told there was more than that. Basil hadn't wanted me to kill Ratigan. But why? Why? This man was bane of Basil s existence, the horror of his every waking moment, as he himself had said. Why then would he wish to spare him?
I am not a man for revenge, you must understand. I am not even a person to hold a grudge. Why then had I been so ready to commit such a dire sin as killing a man, for the sake of getting him out of Basil's life, our lives. I had wanted to finish Ratigan in that instant. I had wanted to kill him, to hurt him, to injure him as he had injured Basil. How dare he& how dare he touch him in such a vile way. How dare that fiend, that devil...kiss him.
Strange that I should be upset over such a thing, as against nature as it was. But I found that I simply was overwhelmed by the thought. Even now it made me shake with anger. And how, I implore you, how could Basil DEFEND him after such a trespass?!
It was then, in that cold lonely moment in that hospital room, I understood myself. What had overwhelmed me was...jealousy. I was jealous. Jealous that Ratigan had done, what I had secretly in the dark hours of the night when I was alone with my thoughts, had wished to do.
And then all the revulsion I had held towards Professor Ratigan suddenly doubled back upon myself. What a fool was I think, to hope, or even dream that a man like Basil could return such strange and unnatural feelings for me?
For sometime I had believed that Basil was a man, who simply couldn't feel emotions like love. There was affection of course, he had always had affections for me, by the way he tolerated my presence, for there were few people that he would. He had even had some affection for little Olivia, once he got used to her. But love? Desire? I daresay even lust? I did not think they were part of Basil's being. He had never shown even the slightest attraction towards any woman that I knew of, and if he did he kept it very well to himself. Perhaps he had managed to program it out of himself, just as he was able to turn off his need for sleep and food when he was deeply focused on a case. Until now I believed Basil s heart to be an untouchable place.
But the look in his eyes, when had stopped me from shooting...for the first time I had a glimpse into the secret place of his heart, and I was confused by what I saw. Did perhaps Basil look upon Ratigan as something more than an enemy? More than an intellectual equal?
But it was preposterous, Basil loathed the villain more than any other creature on Earth. How was it possible harbor such hate and such love at once? Did Basil...love Ratigan?
But my musings were suddenly interrupted by a soft sound at my side. Basil was waking up. His eye‑lids fluttered and he sighed softly, trying to make his way back into the waking world. I took his hand, which was lying limp at his side, and watched as he blinked slowly into awareness. His long fingers curled reflexively around my hand. "Dawson...?" he murmured.
I smiled, so relieved I might have cried for joy. I had thought I had lost him forever. "Steady old boy, you ve had a rough time." I said, holding his hand reassuringly.
He smiled his familiar smile at me, and weakly squeezed my hand. "Are you quite alright, old man?" he asked me.
Until then I had nearly forgotten about my own wound, minor though it was. I nodded towards the sling around my left arm. Nothing a little rest wouldn t cure. I assured him. He smiled at me again, this time showing an extent of relief as he sunk back wearily into his pillows, apparently too tired to even sit up.
"I was...dreaming." he said at length.
I moved a little closer to him. "You nearly died...we were very afraid you weren t going to make it, but thank heaven you re still here." I said.
He did not look at me, his eyes slid past me to some empty space in the room, not really perceiving anything. "I didn't die, simply because it wasn t a good day for me to die." he answered. I was alittle surprise by the remark, but Basil had never been an overly religious mouse. "But for the first time...I was afraid."
I stared at him now, not knowing if he was really coherent or perhaps just rambling, delirious from his injuries and the morphine. He continued to hold my hand, but he did not look at me, or not directly at me at least. His eyes stared straight through me, as if I weren t there at all, but his hand clutched mine as if his life depended upon it. "I always thought....if I died, that would be alright. Any time at all. After all, what is death but a great unsolved mystery just waiting to be explored..." he murmured his voice soft and tired.
He paused then, and blinked at me, as if really seeing me for the first time. "But then...I met you, Dawson. And suddenly, I wanted to live. And I was afraid..."
The words touched me deeply, but I could not explain exactly why. I thought surely my friend was raving. "Shhh, Basil. You need to rest now." I said coaxingly.
He looked at me imploringly, an expression I had never seen on his feature's before, and plucked gently at my shirt sleeve, drawing me closer.
The next thing that happened left me completely speechless. Basil pulled me close to him and kissed me, softly on the lips. I froze up in pure shock, feeling his mouth against mine, but relaxed and returned it warmly. The detective let go then, leaning back into his pillows again, looking as if the simple act had cost him all his strength, but he smiled as I stared wordlessly.
"Basil... I," I began but the beige mouse in the bed silenced me by clutching my hand once more.
"Shh, Dawson. There is much to say, and I am too tired to say it now. Be satisfied with this for the moment..." he said before slipping once more into exhausted sleep, leaving me with a deep aching in my chest.
A week later I was helping my companion home once more. Basil was still rather weak, and it was my expert opinion that it would be a little while before he was back to full strength. Of course, Basil was not at all pleased with this. Still he lacked the strength to put up too much of a fuss.
"Steady now," I said as I helped him out of our cab and onto the pavement. He leaned heavily upon me as I draped his long thin arm around my shoulder. The closeness was quite comforting, for both of us, I imagine.
"Really, Dawson, your excessive pampering will drive me to the brink..." Basil chuckled half‑jokingly to me as we made our way slowly towards the door where Mr. Judson was eagerly awaiting us, cooing and eager to see her tenants once more.
"Oh Mr. Basil, you poor dear, let me get you a nice cup of tea and a blanket. Do hurry doctor, he ll catch a chill!" the woman gasped as I helped Basil hobble inside.
"I seriously doubt that, Madame, as it is hardly common for one to catch a chill in the middle of May..." I heard Basil grumble. Oh Mrs. Judson meant well of course, but she could be rather like an over‑bearing mother hen when she wanted to be.
I got Basil into his favorite red chair, which he slumped into with a grateful sigh. "Mmm, much more comfortable than that hospital bed." he said, smiling at me. Basil had begun to do that more often than ever since our first night at the hospital.
I chuckled to myself as I draped a blanket across his legs, and as I bent down to do so he stole a soft, quick kiss from me. I blushed beneath my fur.
"Now, Dawson," he said as I handed him his pipe, "would you be so good as to fetch me today s paper. I must see if there are any particular articles of interest to me."
"Now Basil, a case is the last thing you need in this state, you HAVE to rest, how are you going to do that gallivanting about London?" I demanded, doing my best to be stern.
But he waved away my comment as if it was nothing more than one of the smoke rings that were floating through the air around his head.
"Nonsense, Dawson. A fresh case is exactly what I need to get my spirits back. Go along now!" he said in his usual masterful manner. I was about to argue further when Mrs. Judson came back out and began fussing over him once more. I realized then that things would soon return to their old routine& the question was, did I want them to?
Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I lie awake in my room, feeling restless and anxious. Since that night in the hospital, things had changed between Basil and I. I found that he was open with me, more so than ever before, and even sentimental and emotional. Things I never expected Basil to be. And I had to admit to myself, that I enjoyed the way Basil needed me there with him.
Though I had never lacked in pleasing him with my company, this was some how different. Before now, I had just been a companion, a friend, someone whom Basil found amusing to test those powers of his upon because I never got tired of them. And Basil never got tired of being appreciated, or applauded. My friend did have a vain, arrogant streak in him, that much is the truth.
But now I was not there simply for amusement. I was there because he needed me. For the first time in our long companionship, Basil was dependent on me, rather than I on him. For the first time he needed my expertise. Perhaps I am selfish, and I loath myself for such morbid thoughts, and I would never wish serious harm upon my companion, for I love him, but his injuries had given me new purpose, and I was almost regretful to see him return to full health, although I knew that day was a ways off yet.
As I laid there, self‑loathing and exhausted, I heard what was very distinctly a crash from the sitting room. I sat bolt up‑right in my bed at the sound and grabbed my pistol from the drawer of my bedside table, and then pulling on my dressing gown, made my way down the stairs towards the sitting room.
There I found a most shocking sight, and nothing as I had expected. Basil, was leaning heavily against the fire‑place mantel, struggling for breath and holding his accustomed needle. I cursed aloud that he should be using that dreadful thing, as I had admonished him time and time again of it s hazard s to his health, but that he should be using it now!
He looked up at me then as I made my way over to him. "Oh, Doctor, can't sleep either?" he hissed through clenched teeth, clutching his wounded chest.
I put my arms around him and helped him onto the sofa so that I could examine him better. "Basil, how many times have I warned you about that blasted opium?" I chided him irritably.
"Exactly 24 my dear Dawson, but you must permit me to explain..." Basil said, trying to sit up, but I forced him to lie back.
"Of all the ridiculous things, straining yourself by coming all the way down here in the middle of night for–" For no reason I could really think of I was becoming quite agitated with my companion, and I was a bit too rough with him as I undid his bindings to check the wound.
"Dawson! Ow!" Basil squirmed beneath me I ran my hands over the wounded area, finding it raw and tender. "For heaven s sakes man, be careful!" Basil snapped painfully.
I realized I was being too rough and at once apologized as I reached for my medical bag, which was mercifully near‑by. "I might as well clean it and give you fresh bandages while I'm at it." I said, though I was still feeling rather irritated with him. I could not understand why he deliberately put himself in danger like this, when there was so much danger for him already in the world.
Basil shirked away from my touch, a pained look on his face. "Oh now Basil, really..." I muttered going to work. He laid there passively underneath me for sometime, just blinking up at me with large green eyes that were a little too bright for my liking.
Once I had sufficiently bound the wounds once more, I turned to look at him. "Are you alright?" I asked, still feeling mildly irritated.
"Well enough now, thank you." he assured me, pushing himself up on his elbows until he reached a sitting position. "Go on back to bed, Doctor, I shall be alright here."
I shook my head and took his arm. "Oh no, you are going right back to bed. I told you the only way you re going to heal is to rest, and damn it, you re going to do it, even if I have to tie you to the ruddy bed!"
Basil blinked at me as I got him slowly to his feet, and then a smile crept across his face. "Very forceful, Dawson. I ve never seen this side of you. Go on, say something else." he said.
"Oh Basil, get a hold of yourself." I chided.
He looked at me carefully. "You re angry with me." he said slowly.
I blinked at him as we reached his bedroom and I helped him sit down upon his bed. "What?"
"You re angry with me." Basil said again, looking at me. "Why?"
I must say I was at a loss. I had no way to explain my sudden temper towards my companion. I could think of nothing to say to him, and then suddenly I could think of everything. All the boiled up frustrations of the last few days, and all the days before all the way up to our first meeting suddenly sprang forth from me, and with no apparent reason at all.
"It's always; ' The game s afoot Dawson!', 'Go live on the moors with the Baskervilles, Dawson!' You don t even ask me any more, you simply storm in, in your usual imperious manner and demand whatever you like of me! Have you never once thought about my practice, which has been so sorely overlooked because you are always dragging me off on some wild goose chase!"
Basil s eyes narrowed at this remark, "Now see here..." he began but I was in no mood for his interruptions.
"NO, you see here, Detective! I've had enough! I've done everything you've ever asked of me, and without the slightest complaint. Have you cared?! Ha! I didn't think you were capable! And then, when I feared I had lost you forever, you...you‑‑‑!" I stammered, unable to finish the sentence.
Basil looked at me, stunned into silence. In my uncontrollable emotional outburst, I moved forward and pushed him back roughly onto the bed, covering his mouth with mine forcefully.
Basil gave a surprised squeak inside my mouth, but gave no more resistance, wrapping his arms around me warmly. I broke away a moment later, both of us gasping, and continued my ranting.
"If you felt so deeply for me, why did you not say so before?! Why do you not say so now! Why do you play at this pathetic little game!" I cried, the truth finally coming out.
At this the detective pulled me against him and buried his face in the small space between my neck and shoulder. "Forgive me." he said quietly.
I blinked, stunned. These were the last words I expected to hear.
"Forgive me, Dawson. Your anger is justified. I have taken you for granted..."
Whatever anger was left in me was drained at once at these soft broken words from my companion, and I simply held him and kissed his face and hair and the tips of his ears gently. Of course, old friend, of course.
A long quiet moment slipped between the two of us, and I wondered if perhaps Basil hadn't simply gone to sleep in my arms. I began to move so that I might see his face better, but his hand closed around my shoulder and pulled me back to my place, looking up at me with tired eyes. "Stay."
"Basil, we really shouldn't. What if Mrs. Judson should walk in? It would give the poor old woman a heart attack!" I said.
Basil chuckled beside me, rubbing his nose against mine. " I should like to see that." he jested. "If you are so worried than lock the door."
I obliged, leaving the bed momentarily to secure our door, and then returned, feeling somewhat foolish and awkward. "I must admit, I m a bit at a lost as to what to do now." I admitted, feeling an embarrassed flush across my face.
Basil chuckled again and pulled the blankets close around us and laid his head upon my chest. "All I want right now, old boy, is just to be held."
I smiled and combed my fingers through his ruffled hair. "That is a simple request. I think I can manage."
I awoke that morning to find Basil exactly where I had left him the night before, lying soundly asleep against my chest. I smiled contentedly to myself, for I had never imagined what I had secretly dreamt of would ever come into being, but there was no denying the feeling of warm flesh and fur against my own.
I ran my hand across his hair gently, watching him as he slept. It was still early, but the sun had risen enough for it to stream gently through the curtains, pouring warm golden light on the bed sheets. I couldn't have described a more perfect scene if I had tried.
Gradually I felt Basil s long languid fingers stretch reflexively as he woke up, blinking up at me slowly. For a moment he seemed disoriented, and looked up at me as though he couldn't quite piece together how I was in his bed.
I admit I was a bit frightened that it might have just struck my friend that he was in love with another man, but then he smiled and kissed my nose, wrinkling his nose at the tickling at my mustache.
"Good morning, Dawson." he said brightly.
I chuckled heartily. "Good morning, Basil." I said warmly, laying my hand across his back. "Did you sleep well?"
"Never better." he assured me. "I'm feeling more like myself today." he added, sitting up fully, giving me a lovely view of his bare chest. "Do you fancy a walk after breakfast, doctor?" he asked casually.
I sat up beside him and kissed his neck warmly and softly, "I fancy you." I replied.
Basil's cheeks flushed lightly and he ran a hand along my back to cradle the back of my neck. "Now, Dawson... I'm afraid I'm not quite up for that just yet..." he said, shyness in his voice.
"Of course." I nodded, agreeing. Such...strenuous activities...were not in Basil's best interest in his current condition.
"But I shall keep that in mind for a later occasion." he added then, nipping affectionately at my ear. Then suddenly he tensed up completely, even his tail going rigid. "Door." was all he said before he abruptly shoved me under the covers and leapt out of the bed, pulling on his trousers as there came the familiar insistent knock that could only be Mrs. Judson.
"Mr. Basil! Are you awake, dear?" she called.
Basil staggered over to the door, collecting himself quickly before carefully unlocking it and opening it enough for the land‑lady to see him. "Yes, I am now." he grumbled looking at her with burly eyes. "What is you wanted, madame?" he asked.
Ah feeling better I see. Mrs. Judson replied at Basil s usual cranky tone towards her. "I was wondering whether or not you knew where Doctor Dawson was? His bed is empty and I can find no trace of him anywhere." she said.
"I have not seen him since last night." Basil lied. "But I shouldn't worry, Mrs. Judson, perhaps he had some emergency at the hospital."
I thought the same thing but he's left his medical bag!
Beneath the bedclothes I winced. We were indeed in a predicament. Certainly Basil could not lie and guess his way out of this one. Mrs. Judson knew too much of my friend s intellect to let him brush it off as forgotten.
But it appeared that Basil had one more trick up his sleeve. He suddenly leaned heavily against the doorframe, making Mrs. Judson gasp.
"Mr. Basil are you alright" she gasped.
"I'm afraid I feel a little faint..." Basil said through heavy, ragged breaths.
"Oh you poor dear, lie down and I shall go get you a nice cup of tea..." she said. Basil nodded feebly as she rushed from the door into the kitchen. The moment she had gone Basil spun on his heel and dragged me roughly from the bed, practically throwing me out the bedroom door. "For the love God in heaven, Dawson, get to your room and change! Then you must climb out the window and reenter the house from the front, and if she should ask, you ve just come from some important business at the hospital!" he hissed at me.
I nodded and turned to leave but Basil yanked me back by the wrist, planting a heated kiss upon my lips. "Thank you..." he whispered as we parted. I merely smiled and sprinted as silently as I could towards my own door.
Sometime later that day Basil and I sat in our accustomed places by the fire, Basil eagerly flipping through his case book and puffing on his pipe while I leafed through the morning papers. We had been preoccupied thusly until Mrs. Judson took her leave once more of Baker Street, leaving us in peace and solitude once more, at which point Basil plucked his pipe from his mouth and looked at me over his casebook.
"We came ridiculously close to losing our hides, Dawson."
I nodded with a sigh of breath as I adjusted my reading glasses. "I am very glad that you were able to distract her."
"I am completely disgusted with myself". Basil muttered disdainfully. "I must be hurt worse than I realized, to think that I should forget such a vital detail as an alibi for your whereabouts..." he grumbled in bad temper.
"Don t be so hard on yourself, old boy. It was rather a spur of the moment thing, people don t plan for that..." I said, feeling a slight blush on my cheeks at the thought of what might have happened if Basil had been in better health.
"I am not 'people', Dawson. I am Basil of Baker Street! No, it shan't happen again, mark my words. We are going to have be very careful with this thing...very careful indeed. It presents far too many dangers for us."
Of course my friend was thinking perfectly logically on the matter, as he always did. If this were found out, it would spell disaster for his career and mine. But... I couldn't help but wonder...what was this exactly? I decided it best to voice my question to my companion.
" Basil, what are we exactly?"
He stopped in what appeared to be mid‑sentence to blink at me, taking a moment to absorb the question. "That... is a wonderful and perplexing question, Dawson." he said after a moment, looking very amused as he slung one leg over another. "I haven't got a clear answer for you just yet, I'm afraid." he added then, setting his pipe down and standing up walking over to stand in front of me with that all too familiar gleam in his green eyes and smug smile upon his handsome face.
"A complex problem such as this requires a bit more research, shall we say?" he said leaning over me and resting his hands on either side of the chair, effectively pinning me down.
I needed no more hints and pulled him down to my level with a tug of his ascot , joining our lips together once more. Up till then our kisses had been loving, but chaste if not hesitant and experimental. Now Basil seemed to have gained confidence and our kisses became more passionate.
When he finally broke away, Basil was practically in my lap and both our faces were very red. An awkward moment passed between the two of us as he sat there, in a rather compromising position, faces flushed and breathing heavily and then Basil grinned nervously, tugging at his shirt collar. "Well... definitely worth noting." he chuckled.
I burst into happy peals of laughter and hugged him tightly. Then came the shuffle of footsteps upon our front step and the all too common knock upon the detective's door. Basil climbed off me, straightening his clothing and fixing his rumpled and loose tie as I did the same.
"That will be Vole," he said as he approached the door.
Of course he was correct and there stood Vole upon our door step, all business and gloom as usual. "Hello, Basil. I trust you are feeling better?" he asked as he stepped inside.
"I am on my feet again, although not much else, inspector. But we both know your business here isn t simple to inquire about my health. There is a matter which you seek my opinion on, isn t there?" Basil said.
Vole wrinkled his nose. "Correct, as usual, detective. I thought you might be interested. It involves Ratigan."
I could have taken Vole s ruddy head off for getting Basil all fired up about Ratigan so soon after their last battle. The detective was in a right state after Vole had left, after giving us news that Ratigan had shown himself again, this time robbing a highly respectable jeweler. Basil knew of course that Ratigan was doing it for one reason alone‑‑to draw him out. Ratigan WANTED Basil to come after him. It all revolved around the game...their accursed deadly game of wits.
I beseeched him not to go, to leave it to Scotland Yard, but Basil would not hear of it. What was worse was that he insisted on me staying behind.
Hours slipped by, night fell, there was no word from my companion. I waited nervously in our flat, dozens of terrible scenarios slipping through my over‑active imagination, until at last there came the sound of footsteps on our doorstep.
I leapt from my chair in relief as Basil pushed open the door to our Baker Street flat, and was half way across the room when I stopped all together, suppressing a gasp of horror.
Basil looked right through me as he stood in the door‑way, wet and muddy and scratched and bruised.
"Good God, what happened?!" I cried crossing the room and taking his arm, leading him inside.
"I cornered him." Basil said flatly.
"Are you alright?" I demanded as I helped him pull his mud‑covered Inverse cape from him. Basil s clothes were just as bad beneath the inverseness.
"I'm fine, Dawson." he added in the same emotionless tone placing his hat on the suit of armor where he kept it.
I was at a loss for words as I stood there looking at him. His eyes held a sort of& emptiness that made my heart ache. I fumbled for something to say. "You... you have' t eaten dinner." I said beginning to lay my hand on his shoulder, but he shrunk away from it.
"No need, all I want is sleep." he murmured hollowly and walked to his room, shutting to door behind him. I stood there a long time in his wake, just staring. I was visibly shaken, letting myself sinking down upon the one of the steps that lead down into our sitting room, still holding Basil's battered jacket. I had never...never seen him in such a state.
What had Ratigan done to him? What could have been said or done to cause such a ghastly effect upon my friend? Oh why had I let him go alone?
I stood up then, abandoning the ruined jacket upon the stairs and made my way towards his bedroom, throwing the door open, determined to find out just what the hell had happened.
Basil sat on the edge of his bed, wrapping a wounded arm in bandages. He jumped when I through the door open, letting it smash against the wall and looked at me angrily. "God damnit, Dawson, learn to knock!" he shouted, trying to hide his half naked body from me.
"There's no hiding from me this time, Basil. What happened." I demanded.
Basil glared tiredly at me. "Please, doctor..." he pleaded desperately with me, but I sat down beside him and took his wound in my hand, looking it over.
"He's hurt you again." I said, anger seeping in my voice as I looked at what were distinctly claw marks across my friend's forearm.
"It's only a scratch." he said gently, smiling weakly at me. "Don't worry about it."
"It's my job to worry about such things." I replied sadly. I looked sternly at him. "Why do you go to him?" I asked.
Basil's face blanched visibly behind his fur.
"Why are you constantly out on the streets hunting for your own death? You re drawn to Ratigan like a moth to the flame. I do not understand it, Basil."
Basil s hand brushed across his wounded arm in an absent, unconscious sort of way. "The game." he said softly, a small smile creeping across his mouth.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?" I found myself shouting. I was tired of all the cryptic messages.
Basil looked up at me, and I saw a touch of fear in his eyes. "You wouldn t understand, Dawson." he said softly. "I'm not entirely sure I understand."
He sunk his head against my broad shoulder then and let his whole body sink against mine in quiet collapse. "Come to bed with me again, Dawson." he whispered tiredly against my collar bone.
I wrapped my arms around him as we made ourselves comfortable on the bed, pulling off our clothing and pulling on our nightshirts. Basil huddled his whole body as close to mine as he dared, as though he were trying to hide himself from the whole world in my arms. I gladly gave him that shelter.
Weeks passed in this manner. Basil and I kept our slowly blossoming relationship a secret from the rest of the world, silently looking forward to every second we had alone with each other. I felt twenty years younger, and I daresay Basil did too. He was recovering beautifully from his injuries, which allowed us more...physical freedom as it were.
But despite all the happiness we had found, there always lurked something in the back of our minds. A sinister presence that seemed to hang over us both.
Ratigan. Damn the villain.
Basil and I slept with each other on the nights when there was no chance of Mrs. Judson interrupting us in the morning, and on those nights long after we had gone to bed, I was sometimes awakened by the sound of Basil crying out in his sleep. At time the cries were painful or angry, emotions I was used to in this case. But other nights...they had an entirely different tone to them. One that often left me sleepless more many hours afterwards.
A funny suspicion had begun to tickle and prickle at the back of my mind. I never allowed myself to dwell on it for long....but I knew eventually I would have to face it.
Unfortunately, I picked the most inopportune time to bring forth what was on my mind...