Basil had gone out again for the day, running errands and generally
sleuthing about. My shoulder was giving me some trouble, as the weather
outside had turned damp and cold and I had opted to stay in for the day.
My friend entered our flat sometime later, soaking wet and looking fairly pleased with himself as he wrung himself dry in the doorway before stepping completely inside.
"How's your arm, old boy?" he asked me brightly, smoothing back rain dampened hair on his head as he tugged off his shoes.
"Well enough. Have you had any success?" I asked watching with quiet amusement at his quirky little mannerisms as he slipped out of his cape and into his dressing gown, settling himself into his chair across from me.
"It hasn't been an all together unprofitable expedition." he said with some slight smugness, taking his pipe. "I think the pieces are falling together quite nicely."
"Well that is good news." I said brightly, folding my paper as I sat gazing at him cheerfully.
"Indeed. And yes, Dawson I'm in a good mood. Would you like to ask me something?" he asked then, taking his pipe. I gawked.
"How the deuce did you know..."
Basil grinned at me. "You always have this pathetically adorable way of looking like Toby when he's begging for a treat whenever there's something you want to ask me." he replied, waving away my amazement. "Come, come, Dawson." he coaxed.
I swallowed hard, trying to figure out how I should put this rather delicate question that had been hanging over my head. "It's of a rather delicate nature, Basil." I cautioned him.
He leaned back in his chair, looking rather smug and bored. "When have you ever endeavored to walk on eggshells around me, Dawson?" he asked.
I took a big breath. He was right. "It's about the professor." I blurted out.
One of Basil's eyebrows raised slightly. "Go on."
"Please forgive me for what I am about to say, but I feel there is something between you two that you are hiding from me."
There was a slight shiver that ran through my partner for only a second, and then his exterior became steely and impenetrable. "Nonsense." he said in a bored, aloof sort of way. "What would give you such an absurd idea?"
I however had known Basil just a bit too long not to recognize when he was deliberately shutting me out. I had struck upon something, and it's indications were deeply unsettling. "I hear you crying out in your sleep." I answered.
His face remained an iron fortress of steeled nerves, but the long languid hands trembled ever so slightly. I leaned forward in my chair as to speak to him more directly then. "And every time you go out, I am always finding some new scratch upon you."
He refused to look at me now, and his hands had begun to shake more visibly.
"Basil...are you..."
"Do not say it, doctor." Basil spoke suddenly, his voice trembling with emotion. I was stunned by his sudden out burst as he got abruptly to his feet, glaring down at me.
"You dare to...to imply..." he sputtered.
"You would not be so offended if it were not true." I answered as calmly as I could. I knew this wasn't going to be an easy matter, but I had expected such a reaction from my friend.
I did not, however, expect what came next.
Crack!
My face smarted sharply across my cheekbone as I fell back in my chair. Basil had just given me a rather hard left hook across the face and was standing there, looking absolutely livid with anger. His face was completely white beneath his fur, with the exception of two bright red patches over each of his cheeks.
I opened my mouth to say something, but I found that I was completely at a loss of words. "I...I suppose I deserved that." I muttered after a moment, getting to my feet.
Basil turned away from me then, storming towards the front door, throwing on his overcoat. He paused only to look at me for a moment, his eyes narrowed and shining with what could only be tears. "I am leaving for awhile. When I return, I want you out." was all he could get out before turning and slamming the door behind him.
I stood there in the aftermath, and then gave a despairing moan. What an idiot I was. My first impulse was to run after him and beg forgiveness for everything and plead with him to come back, but I knew he was too angry now.
Therefore there was nothing for me to do but sit and wait for him to return, and decide how was to fix to abominable situation I had caused. It was very likely I had just destroyed any chance of this love affair between the detective and I, not to mention our friendship and I loathed myself for it.
I could have lived in ignorance of whatever it was that Basil was doing behind my back, but I had chosen to bring it to his attention with ghastly results.
So I sat down once more in my chair, and ran a hand across the lightly stinging bruise upon my cheek, and cursed my foolish jealousy.
Long hours came and went, and night drew near. Basil still had not returned. My already rattled nerves were shattered by my companion's long absence. I was beginning to fear that some ill had befallen him when there was a knock upon the door.
My heart leapt to my throat, but then I realized that Basil would not knock upon his own front door. It had to be a client. So I got up and collected myself as best I could, and answered the door.
"Good evening, Doctor Dawson." a familiar voice greeted me.
I stared in horror. The man at the door step was Ratigan himself.
My hand went directly for the pistol I carried in my waistcoat, but suddenly the brute was upon me, forcing a piece of chloroform covered cloth over my mouth.
I struggled fiercely against him, but in the end I was overwhelmed.
When I came to myself again, I found myself in unfamiliar surroundings. I was bound behind my back and laying somewhat uncomfortably on the floor of what appeared to be a very large, and very over done parol. My head was still a bit foggy from the chloroform, but I was aware enough to recognize the dark clothed figure who was sitting idly in a large over- stuffed chair. Ratigan grinned at me.
"Feeling better, doctor?" he asked idly as I tried to roll myself to the side so I could look at him better. "I do apologize about the abrupt accommodations, but I rather feared if I had invited you properly that I would have the door shut in my face." he said with his usual smug grin.
"What do you want? Where's Basil?!" I snarled at him, trying to wriggle free of the ropes around my hands. Unfortunately I was not the escape artist that Basil was.
"Basil?" the Rat answered with an air of astonishment. "I haven't the slightest notion, my dear man, I assure you." he added getting up to strut across the room, picking up something at appeared to be a doll from his mantelpiece. "I had assumed that the great detective never went anywhere without his little...side-kick." he sneered, peering at the strange mouse doll in his hand. I strained to see it in the dim light, and then came to realize it had a striking resemblance to my missing companion. That, and it had pins sticking out of it.
I glared up at the villain. "Whatever you hope to accomplish by kidnaping me is a waste of time, Ratigan. That you can be sure of." I growled at him.
He looked at me in a bored sort of manner, as if he couldn't quite understand why I kept talking to him. "Oh don't give yourself so much credit, doctor Dawson. I wanted you for nothing more than a little chat."
I blinked at him as I laid there helplessly. "Well, you have a captive audience..." I said, sneering a bit.
Ratigan laughed and stepped towards me again, patting me on the shoulder condescendingly. "Ah, you do have your amusing moments, don't you? That must be why he keeps you about...." He made an unceremoniously long pause then, staring me straight in the eyes, and I felt that he was looking straight into my soul. It made me shiver.
"Yes well, subtlety can be overrated at times, and since you seem to be so amazingly dense my dear lad, I shall simply come out and say it," He began then, sitting crouched beside me on the floor. "I know you're little secret."
I stared at him in horror. Ratigan laughed again, his evil grin splitting from one foul corner of his face to the next. "Oh so modest! Love is a many splendored thing, isn't dear Doctor?"
My face grew so intensely red that it matched the underside of the villain's cape. He was reveling in it. "That is of course, if it is love. You'll forgive me for saying, but your detective just doesn't strike me as the sentimental type, and I daresay that I've known him longer than you have, old boy."
I think I would have preferred to be once more in that hideous mousetrap of his than to be lying there on the floor and being tortured so. But it gnawed at me...all our discretion, all our secrecy, how he of all people know?
"You have no idea what you're saying, Ratigan." I attempted.
He raised a dark eyebrow. "Really doctor, lies do not become you." he said tiredly, taking a long draw of his cigarette. "I know very well what I'm saying, and you know it damn well. But, there is another side of your question that is valid. How did I know?"
I looked at him through narrow, rage filled eyes. "You've sent spies." I answered for him.
"And waste their time? Your beloved detective would have picked them out in seconds. Come come, doctor, surely you've learned better from your master than that." he grumbled, growing irritated.
"Frankly I don't see how you could know!" I spat then, the fur and hair on the back of my neck bristling.
Ratigan grabbed me roughly by my collar and pulled me up close to his face, so that I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. "Why, what man could not know when his own lover has forsaken him for another?!" he hissed like a serpent in my ear.
My blood ran cold in my veins. "LIAR!" I roared, thrusting myself backwards as to break his grip upon me, letting me fall back to the floor once more as he laughed hideously.
"You really are as dull as a butter-knife aren't you?" he chuckled. He leaned over me, pinning me to the floor under his tall, muscular looming form. "Did he never tell you, doctor? Did he never tell you the first time I took him....how he screamed..."
I thrust my leg hard up into his stomach and he grunted painfully at the force of my blow and I rolled away from him, struggling madly against my bonds. I had nearly worked them free when he lunged upon me again, digging his claws into my shoulders and forcing me painfully up against the wall.
"You're beginning to make me angry, Doctor Dawson..." he snarled at me, bearing his sharp teeth. "But the truth hurts, doesn't it?"
"Why should I believe a lie scum from the gutter such as you?" I snarled back, wincing as blood poured from the gashes in my arms.
"Because you know it is truth! You've suspected yourself, haven't you? How could you not! I'm sure you've seen the marks on him, they're from these!" he said, driving his claws further into my wounds, making me yelp. "Tell me, Dawson, you would know best, do I haunt his dreams?"
I had had all I could take, and slammed my skull against his, causing blood the spurt from his nose. He relinquished his grip on me as he staggered backwards, and I frantically tried to free myself once more, this time succeeding in losing one hand, but he was on me again, this time more brutally than before.
"I WARNED YOU NOT TO UPSET ME, DOCTOR!" he screamed raking his claws across the front of my shirt, tearing it open. "You dare to consider yourself even remotely worthy of his attentions, do you?! You are far too stupid to appreciate his genius, though you try. There is only one other in the world with a mind as clever as my own, and it is he, and that is why–though he may foil my schemes, though he may triumph over me in the public eye–I am victorious, for I have conquered him and made him MINE!"
There was a sudden sound in the ringing aftermath of Ratigan's powerful words, one that was soft and metallic. The cocking of a pistol.
I looked past the rat to find the detective himself standing behind him, the cold barrel of his weapon pressed against the back of Ratigan's head.
"Let him go, James." the mouse said with unnerving calm.
Shock was only on Ratigan's face for a moment and then he smiled. He did not look away from me, but spoke to my companion.
"Come to reclaim your little whore have you?" he said.
Basil wrapped one arm around Ratigan's throat, pressing the barrel of the gun harshly against his skull. "Perhaps you didn't hear me, you fucking bastard. Let go of him, or I will leave a gapping maggot hole in that genius criminal brain of yours." Basil said with brutal intensity.
Ratigan relinquished his grip upon me as I freed myself completely, moving out the grasp of the mad professor.
Basil forced Ratigan against the wall, the gun grinding painfully against his head. "Now, Professor, let me make myself perfectly clear..." he said speaking calmly. "If you dare to lay so much as a hair upon my associate again, they shall have to lock me up for a murder, and they shall have to bury you in a tea bag because that will be all that there is left of you when I am finished."
Ratigan smiled serenely, despite the fact that his face was being smashed against the wall. "Ooh I love it when you talk dirty, detective."
Basil swung the gun against Ratigan's head, making him fall limply to the ground, senseless. He then turned slowly towards me as I stood there in utter astonishment. He approached me quickly, taking both of my hands in his. "Are you alright, Dawson?" he asked, worry etched across his pale, gaunt features.
I glanced at the blood stains upon my overcoat. "Nothing serious." I replied, feeling overwhelmed and tired and confused.
Basil sighed with relief. "Come, I've a cab waiting outside. Let me take you home." he said leading me out the door.
Basil and I spoke no more than two words to each other the entire drive home. The detective sat across from me, in the far corner of the cab, his head sunk upon one of his long nervous hands, eyes shut tightly.
I sat limply in my own seat, gently inspecting and nursing the gashes in my shoulders. A little disinfectant and bandaging and they would be fine. My mind had suffered far greater than my body however. It was reeling over all that had transpired in a little less than two hours. Every fear that I had had been confirmed, and here I sat, at a loss as to what to do next.
We arrived home and Basil helped me from the cab and into the house. He assisted me in cleaning and bandaging my wounds, but spoke not a word. The flat was in deafening silence.
I was about to break the silence myself...when Basil beat me to it. All at once with a wailing sob he threw himself against me, wrapping his arms around my neck. "Oh God, Dawson, forgive me!" he cried.
I was stunned, and simply sat there, holding the quivering man in my arms as emotions poured out of him like a fountain. "I was so worried! God, I thought...I thought...please forgive me for what I said, I didn't mean it!"
"Basil...Basil, old boy...calm yourself...I'm alright." I said, holding onto him.
"I shudder to think what he would have done...if I hadn't arrived when I did." the detective said as he slowly pulled back from me, cupping my face in his hands. "He told you everything, didn't he?" he asked with a resigned sigh.
I didn't know what to say. What Ratigan had told me, I couldn't quite make sense of. I didn't know if I wanted to make sense of it. When I didn't reply he let out a soft defeated sigh and sunk his head against mine for a long moment. "I am what he says..."
"No..." I murmured, pressing my head against his and biting my lip. "No, it's not true."
"Dawson, denying the truth will not make it go away. You should know that," he said combing his fingers through my hair.
"Why did you never tell me?" I begged.
"Dear doctor, can you not deduce the answer? I should have thought that dealing with this love affair would be enough for any man to cope with, much less coming to realize that his lover had suffered at the hands of his own arch villain, and in desperate times sought him out."
He looked at me shame-famed, his eyes never daring to meet mine. Somehow he thought himself disgusting and vile, and I realized just how unloved my dear detective truly felt.
He gave me a sad smile, still avoiding my eyes. "Well, Dawson...I guess there's nothing else for it. Please, stay the night, stay as long as you need until you find new lodgings. You need not worry yourself about me. I will be heading to France...there is some interesting cases I wish to pursue." he said with as much aloofness as possible. But for all Basil's brilliant acting abilities, none were there now. Nothing he could say or do would make me believe he truly wanted me to leave. He was doing this because he thought I hated, or was repulsed by him.
He held onto me a moment longer, and then let go and began to walk away. But he didn't get far. I grabbed him by the shoulders, flinging him around and kissing him hard.
A heated moment passed between the two of us before he managed to untangle himself from my arms, looking thoroughly distraught. "David please...please don't. I don't deserve your pity..."
"Basil, you ass," I said sternly still gripping his arms. "This is not pity! I love you!"
Basil's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets.
I could have kicked myself for letting that slip just then, but emotions were high and logic–for once–held little precedence. I bit my tongue reflexively, shutting my eyes tightly, wishing it all away. Had I really just told the man that I love him?
"Dawson...did you just..." Basil stammered as I peered up at him. He looked thoroughly perplexed.
"Let me explain..." I began worriedly, but a smile broke across his face then.
"No, no don't..." he said putting a long finger to my lips. "Don't...explain anything, Dawson. After all, I'm out of my league here." he said.
I blinked at him, thoroughly confused. "What do you mean, Basil?"
"Dear, dear Dawson...you sentimental old goat! You should know, with all your overly romantic narratives you've written over the years. There is no logic in matters of the heart." he laughed, though there were tears in his eyes, then threw both arms around me and held me tightly against him.
That night we were both in bed, enjoying the closeness and the dark. My fingers brushed across a long horizontal scar across Basil's back. I knew where it had come from, and I shut my eyes from the thought of it. Basil nuzzled my neck as we laid there, feeling my hand on the old wound.
"He was right..." he breathed.
"How so?" I whispered.
"No matter how many times I ruin his brilliant schemes, he's taken from me something that can never be returned."
"Not in my eyes." I said firmly, lifting his chin to look him in the eyes. "You will always be the same Basil of Baker Street. Nothing he could do or say will ever change that. And he was wrong..."
The detective smiled tiredly at me. "About what my dear Dawson?"
"You are not his."
Basil laughed joyfully at this and kissed my nose. "No, my love, I am not. I am yours."
FINI
My friend entered our flat sometime later, soaking wet and looking fairly pleased with himself as he wrung himself dry in the doorway before stepping completely inside.
"How's your arm, old boy?" he asked me brightly, smoothing back rain dampened hair on his head as he tugged off his shoes.
"Well enough. Have you had any success?" I asked watching with quiet amusement at his quirky little mannerisms as he slipped out of his cape and into his dressing gown, settling himself into his chair across from me.
"It hasn't been an all together unprofitable expedition." he said with some slight smugness, taking his pipe. "I think the pieces are falling together quite nicely."
"Well that is good news." I said brightly, folding my paper as I sat gazing at him cheerfully.
"Indeed. And yes, Dawson I'm in a good mood. Would you like to ask me something?" he asked then, taking his pipe. I gawked.
"How the deuce did you know..."
Basil grinned at me. "You always have this pathetically adorable way of looking like Toby when he's begging for a treat whenever there's something you want to ask me." he replied, waving away my amazement. "Come, come, Dawson." he coaxed.
I swallowed hard, trying to figure out how I should put this rather delicate question that had been hanging over my head. "It's of a rather delicate nature, Basil." I cautioned him.
He leaned back in his chair, looking rather smug and bored. "When have you ever endeavored to walk on eggshells around me, Dawson?" he asked.
I took a big breath. He was right. "It's about the professor." I blurted out.
One of Basil's eyebrows raised slightly. "Go on."
"Please forgive me for what I am about to say, but I feel there is something between you two that you are hiding from me."
There was a slight shiver that ran through my partner for only a second, and then his exterior became steely and impenetrable. "Nonsense." he said in a bored, aloof sort of way. "What would give you such an absurd idea?"
I however had known Basil just a bit too long not to recognize when he was deliberately shutting me out. I had struck upon something, and it's indications were deeply unsettling. "I hear you crying out in your sleep." I answered.
His face remained an iron fortress of steeled nerves, but the long languid hands trembled ever so slightly. I leaned forward in my chair as to speak to him more directly then. "And every time you go out, I am always finding some new scratch upon you."
He refused to look at me now, and his hands had begun to shake more visibly.
"Basil...are you..."
"Do not say it, doctor." Basil spoke suddenly, his voice trembling with emotion. I was stunned by his sudden out burst as he got abruptly to his feet, glaring down at me.
"You dare to...to imply..." he sputtered.
"You would not be so offended if it were not true." I answered as calmly as I could. I knew this wasn't going to be an easy matter, but I had expected such a reaction from my friend.
I did not, however, expect what came next.
Crack!
My face smarted sharply across my cheekbone as I fell back in my chair. Basil had just given me a rather hard left hook across the face and was standing there, looking absolutely livid with anger. His face was completely white beneath his fur, with the exception of two bright red patches over each of his cheeks.
I opened my mouth to say something, but I found that I was completely at a loss of words. "I...I suppose I deserved that." I muttered after a moment, getting to my feet.
Basil turned away from me then, storming towards the front door, throwing on his overcoat. He paused only to look at me for a moment, his eyes narrowed and shining with what could only be tears. "I am leaving for awhile. When I return, I want you out." was all he could get out before turning and slamming the door behind him.
I stood there in the aftermath, and then gave a despairing moan. What an idiot I was. My first impulse was to run after him and beg forgiveness for everything and plead with him to come back, but I knew he was too angry now.
Therefore there was nothing for me to do but sit and wait for him to return, and decide how was to fix to abominable situation I had caused. It was very likely I had just destroyed any chance of this love affair between the detective and I, not to mention our friendship and I loathed myself for it.
I could have lived in ignorance of whatever it was that Basil was doing behind my back, but I had chosen to bring it to his attention with ghastly results.
So I sat down once more in my chair, and ran a hand across the lightly stinging bruise upon my cheek, and cursed my foolish jealousy.
Long hours came and went, and night drew near. Basil still had not returned. My already rattled nerves were shattered by my companion's long absence. I was beginning to fear that some ill had befallen him when there was a knock upon the door.
My heart leapt to my throat, but then I realized that Basil would not knock upon his own front door. It had to be a client. So I got up and collected myself as best I could, and answered the door.
"Good evening, Doctor Dawson." a familiar voice greeted me.
I stared in horror. The man at the door step was Ratigan himself.
My hand went directly for the pistol I carried in my waistcoat, but suddenly the brute was upon me, forcing a piece of chloroform covered cloth over my mouth.
I struggled fiercely against him, but in the end I was overwhelmed.
When I came to myself again, I found myself in unfamiliar surroundings. I was bound behind my back and laying somewhat uncomfortably on the floor of what appeared to be a very large, and very over done parol. My head was still a bit foggy from the chloroform, but I was aware enough to recognize the dark clothed figure who was sitting idly in a large over- stuffed chair. Ratigan grinned at me.
"Feeling better, doctor?" he asked idly as I tried to roll myself to the side so I could look at him better. "I do apologize about the abrupt accommodations, but I rather feared if I had invited you properly that I would have the door shut in my face." he said with his usual smug grin.
"What do you want? Where's Basil?!" I snarled at him, trying to wriggle free of the ropes around my hands. Unfortunately I was not the escape artist that Basil was.
"Basil?" the Rat answered with an air of astonishment. "I haven't the slightest notion, my dear man, I assure you." he added getting up to strut across the room, picking up something at appeared to be a doll from his mantelpiece. "I had assumed that the great detective never went anywhere without his little...side-kick." he sneered, peering at the strange mouse doll in his hand. I strained to see it in the dim light, and then came to realize it had a striking resemblance to my missing companion. That, and it had pins sticking out of it.
I glared up at the villain. "Whatever you hope to accomplish by kidnaping me is a waste of time, Ratigan. That you can be sure of." I growled at him.
He looked at me in a bored sort of manner, as if he couldn't quite understand why I kept talking to him. "Oh don't give yourself so much credit, doctor Dawson. I wanted you for nothing more than a little chat."
I blinked at him as I laid there helplessly. "Well, you have a captive audience..." I said, sneering a bit.
Ratigan laughed and stepped towards me again, patting me on the shoulder condescendingly. "Ah, you do have your amusing moments, don't you? That must be why he keeps you about...." He made an unceremoniously long pause then, staring me straight in the eyes, and I felt that he was looking straight into my soul. It made me shiver.
"Yes well, subtlety can be overrated at times, and since you seem to be so amazingly dense my dear lad, I shall simply come out and say it," He began then, sitting crouched beside me on the floor. "I know you're little secret."
I stared at him in horror. Ratigan laughed again, his evil grin splitting from one foul corner of his face to the next. "Oh so modest! Love is a many splendored thing, isn't dear Doctor?"
My face grew so intensely red that it matched the underside of the villain's cape. He was reveling in it. "That is of course, if it is love. You'll forgive me for saying, but your detective just doesn't strike me as the sentimental type, and I daresay that I've known him longer than you have, old boy."
I think I would have preferred to be once more in that hideous mousetrap of his than to be lying there on the floor and being tortured so. But it gnawed at me...all our discretion, all our secrecy, how he of all people know?
"You have no idea what you're saying, Ratigan." I attempted.
He raised a dark eyebrow. "Really doctor, lies do not become you." he said tiredly, taking a long draw of his cigarette. "I know very well what I'm saying, and you know it damn well. But, there is another side of your question that is valid. How did I know?"
I looked at him through narrow, rage filled eyes. "You've sent spies." I answered for him.
"And waste their time? Your beloved detective would have picked them out in seconds. Come come, doctor, surely you've learned better from your master than that." he grumbled, growing irritated.
"Frankly I don't see how you could know!" I spat then, the fur and hair on the back of my neck bristling.
Ratigan grabbed me roughly by my collar and pulled me up close to his face, so that I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. "Why, what man could not know when his own lover has forsaken him for another?!" he hissed like a serpent in my ear.
My blood ran cold in my veins. "LIAR!" I roared, thrusting myself backwards as to break his grip upon me, letting me fall back to the floor once more as he laughed hideously.
"You really are as dull as a butter-knife aren't you?" he chuckled. He leaned over me, pinning me to the floor under his tall, muscular looming form. "Did he never tell you, doctor? Did he never tell you the first time I took him....how he screamed..."
I thrust my leg hard up into his stomach and he grunted painfully at the force of my blow and I rolled away from him, struggling madly against my bonds. I had nearly worked them free when he lunged upon me again, digging his claws into my shoulders and forcing me painfully up against the wall.
"You're beginning to make me angry, Doctor Dawson..." he snarled at me, bearing his sharp teeth. "But the truth hurts, doesn't it?"
"Why should I believe a lie scum from the gutter such as you?" I snarled back, wincing as blood poured from the gashes in my arms.
"Because you know it is truth! You've suspected yourself, haven't you? How could you not! I'm sure you've seen the marks on him, they're from these!" he said, driving his claws further into my wounds, making me yelp. "Tell me, Dawson, you would know best, do I haunt his dreams?"
I had had all I could take, and slammed my skull against his, causing blood the spurt from his nose. He relinquished his grip on me as he staggered backwards, and I frantically tried to free myself once more, this time succeeding in losing one hand, but he was on me again, this time more brutally than before.
"I WARNED YOU NOT TO UPSET ME, DOCTOR!" he screamed raking his claws across the front of my shirt, tearing it open. "You dare to consider yourself even remotely worthy of his attentions, do you?! You are far too stupid to appreciate his genius, though you try. There is only one other in the world with a mind as clever as my own, and it is he, and that is why–though he may foil my schemes, though he may triumph over me in the public eye–I am victorious, for I have conquered him and made him MINE!"
There was a sudden sound in the ringing aftermath of Ratigan's powerful words, one that was soft and metallic. The cocking of a pistol.
I looked past the rat to find the detective himself standing behind him, the cold barrel of his weapon pressed against the back of Ratigan's head.
"Let him go, James." the mouse said with unnerving calm.
Shock was only on Ratigan's face for a moment and then he smiled. He did not look away from me, but spoke to my companion.
"Come to reclaim your little whore have you?" he said.
Basil wrapped one arm around Ratigan's throat, pressing the barrel of the gun harshly against his skull. "Perhaps you didn't hear me, you fucking bastard. Let go of him, or I will leave a gapping maggot hole in that genius criminal brain of yours." Basil said with brutal intensity.
Ratigan relinquished his grip upon me as I freed myself completely, moving out the grasp of the mad professor.
Basil forced Ratigan against the wall, the gun grinding painfully against his head. "Now, Professor, let me make myself perfectly clear..." he said speaking calmly. "If you dare to lay so much as a hair upon my associate again, they shall have to lock me up for a murder, and they shall have to bury you in a tea bag because that will be all that there is left of you when I am finished."
Ratigan smiled serenely, despite the fact that his face was being smashed against the wall. "Ooh I love it when you talk dirty, detective."
Basil swung the gun against Ratigan's head, making him fall limply to the ground, senseless. He then turned slowly towards me as I stood there in utter astonishment. He approached me quickly, taking both of my hands in his. "Are you alright, Dawson?" he asked, worry etched across his pale, gaunt features.
I glanced at the blood stains upon my overcoat. "Nothing serious." I replied, feeling overwhelmed and tired and confused.
Basil sighed with relief. "Come, I've a cab waiting outside. Let me take you home." he said leading me out the door.
Basil and I spoke no more than two words to each other the entire drive home. The detective sat across from me, in the far corner of the cab, his head sunk upon one of his long nervous hands, eyes shut tightly.
I sat limply in my own seat, gently inspecting and nursing the gashes in my shoulders. A little disinfectant and bandaging and they would be fine. My mind had suffered far greater than my body however. It was reeling over all that had transpired in a little less than two hours. Every fear that I had had been confirmed, and here I sat, at a loss as to what to do next.
We arrived home and Basil helped me from the cab and into the house. He assisted me in cleaning and bandaging my wounds, but spoke not a word. The flat was in deafening silence.
I was about to break the silence myself...when Basil beat me to it. All at once with a wailing sob he threw himself against me, wrapping his arms around my neck. "Oh God, Dawson, forgive me!" he cried.
I was stunned, and simply sat there, holding the quivering man in my arms as emotions poured out of him like a fountain. "I was so worried! God, I thought...I thought...please forgive me for what I said, I didn't mean it!"
"Basil...Basil, old boy...calm yourself...I'm alright." I said, holding onto him.
"I shudder to think what he would have done...if I hadn't arrived when I did." the detective said as he slowly pulled back from me, cupping my face in his hands. "He told you everything, didn't he?" he asked with a resigned sigh.
I didn't know what to say. What Ratigan had told me, I couldn't quite make sense of. I didn't know if I wanted to make sense of it. When I didn't reply he let out a soft defeated sigh and sunk his head against mine for a long moment. "I am what he says..."
"No..." I murmured, pressing my head against his and biting my lip. "No, it's not true."
"Dawson, denying the truth will not make it go away. You should know that," he said combing his fingers through my hair.
"Why did you never tell me?" I begged.
"Dear doctor, can you not deduce the answer? I should have thought that dealing with this love affair would be enough for any man to cope with, much less coming to realize that his lover had suffered at the hands of his own arch villain, and in desperate times sought him out."
He looked at me shame-famed, his eyes never daring to meet mine. Somehow he thought himself disgusting and vile, and I realized just how unloved my dear detective truly felt.
He gave me a sad smile, still avoiding my eyes. "Well, Dawson...I guess there's nothing else for it. Please, stay the night, stay as long as you need until you find new lodgings. You need not worry yourself about me. I will be heading to France...there is some interesting cases I wish to pursue." he said with as much aloofness as possible. But for all Basil's brilliant acting abilities, none were there now. Nothing he could say or do would make me believe he truly wanted me to leave. He was doing this because he thought I hated, or was repulsed by him.
He held onto me a moment longer, and then let go and began to walk away. But he didn't get far. I grabbed him by the shoulders, flinging him around and kissing him hard.
A heated moment passed between the two of us before he managed to untangle himself from my arms, looking thoroughly distraught. "David please...please don't. I don't deserve your pity..."
"Basil, you ass," I said sternly still gripping his arms. "This is not pity! I love you!"
Basil's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets.
I could have kicked myself for letting that slip just then, but emotions were high and logic–for once–held little precedence. I bit my tongue reflexively, shutting my eyes tightly, wishing it all away. Had I really just told the man that I love him?
"Dawson...did you just..." Basil stammered as I peered up at him. He looked thoroughly perplexed.
"Let me explain..." I began worriedly, but a smile broke across his face then.
"No, no don't..." he said putting a long finger to my lips. "Don't...explain anything, Dawson. After all, I'm out of my league here." he said.
I blinked at him, thoroughly confused. "What do you mean, Basil?"
"Dear, dear Dawson...you sentimental old goat! You should know, with all your overly romantic narratives you've written over the years. There is no logic in matters of the heart." he laughed, though there were tears in his eyes, then threw both arms around me and held me tightly against him.
That night we were both in bed, enjoying the closeness and the dark. My fingers brushed across a long horizontal scar across Basil's back. I knew where it had come from, and I shut my eyes from the thought of it. Basil nuzzled my neck as we laid there, feeling my hand on the old wound.
"He was right..." he breathed.
"How so?" I whispered.
"No matter how many times I ruin his brilliant schemes, he's taken from me something that can never be returned."
"Not in my eyes." I said firmly, lifting his chin to look him in the eyes. "You will always be the same Basil of Baker Street. Nothing he could do or say will ever change that. And he was wrong..."
The detective smiled tiredly at me. "About what my dear Dawson?"
"You are not his."
Basil laughed joyfully at this and kissed my nose. "No, my love, I am not. I am yours."
FINI