DISCLAIMER: The Great Mouse Detective and its characters belong to Eve Titus and Disney.
THE PROFESSOR'S PORTRAIT
Dates: June 19th, 1897: Battle on Big Ben; June 20th: day after the battle, setting of this story; June 21st, morning: Queen honours Basil; evening: Flavershams say goodbye.
Solicitude to Celebration
The evening of June 20th, 1897, began pleasantly enough for Doctor Dawson, Mr. Flaversham, his daughter Olivia, Mrs. Judson and Mr. Basil. Just the night before, the nefarious Professor Ratigan had fallen to his demise from the hands of Big Ben after a fierce battle of life and death with Basil. However, it was, for the most part, due to a stroke of luck that his considerably physically weaker opponent survived; Ratigan had failed to balance himself as he was thrown off the gigantic clock arm which, with extreme momentum, sent him tumbling into the abyss as it struck 10 p.m. Nevertheless, in spite of being under great stress, Basil never lost the keen awareness of his surroundings that was so characteristic of him, and realized that the chimes would be his saviour. Although Ratigan, mad with rage at his triumph gone awry, made certain that he plunged into his death at least together with his foe and not alone, Basil was able to rescue himself with the last bit of strength he had in his injured body, rapidly and determinedly pedalling his way upward again, where his friends, overwhelmed with their radically alternating emotions, from terror to grief to euphoria, received him on their makeshift dirigible.
They had spent the remaining night at Basil's flat on 221 ½ B Baker Street; the generous landlady, Mrs. Judson, had arranged for two normally unused small extra bedrooms to be available for Mr. Flaversham and his daughter Olivia, and Dr. Dawson. The horrified expression on Mrs. Judson's face, upon having seen the dangerous state her tenant was in, had soon faded as she realized he was, luckily, in the medically capable hands of a former army surgeon, who knew instantly what measures were to be taken in order to prevent Basil's condition from deteriorating further. Though he felt that he had miserably failed as Basil's assistant during the very first detecting case he ever witnessed, he possessed other strengths, and some knowledge of medicine that his newly found friend, as well as everyone else present, lacked.
After a burdensome, almost sleepless night for the detective's acquaintances, they were eventually roused by the rays of rising sun that shone through the small windows. Mrs. Judson, with only their best interests at heart, saw to it that they were prepared for the challenges of the day with an abundant breakfast; however, their appetite was not the greatest, for their minds were still anxious due to the events of the day before. Little Olivia hardly ate anything, but sombrely stared at her plate, not uttering a single word.
"Do eat something, dear!" her father urged, though he himself had left most of his food untouched. The girl shook her head miserably.
"I cannot," she then said quietly, pushing her plate away with a trembling hand. "Oh Daddy, I'm so afraid for Mr. Basil! I hope he's going to be alright! It's all my fault! If he wouldn't have had to save me, he could have escaped Ratigan! All of this happened because of me!"
Distraught, Olivia burst into tears, burying her head in her hands and sobbing terribly.
"There now," Dawson said, patting her, "For heaven's sake, don't blame yourself, my dear! In fact, it is thanks to you that Basil found out that Ratigan was behind your father's abduction! After all, it was you who caught a glimpse of the peg-legged bat and mentioned this vital clue to Mr. Basil."
"Dr. Dawson is absolutely right, Olivia darling," Mr. Flaversham added, "And you were so exceptionally brave throughout the entire case. You couldn't have made me any more proud, and you should be proud of yourself!"
After some moments, Olivia ceased to cry and dried her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket before her father handed her a tissue.
"Perhaps you're right," she then said with a rueful smile which soon faded.
Thankfully, the subsequent circumstances would relieve the brave little girl, as well as the others, from their anxieties, for Mr. Basil was exhibiting signs of rapid recovery. In fact, although prevented from being his usual energetic self, he was well out of bed around noon, while covered in several bandages that made him appear like a walking mummy.
"Basil, I really don't think it wise to overexert yourself while in a critical condition such as yours," Dawson remarked reproachfully. The headstrong detective, subtly rolling his eyes as what he perceived to be excessive worrying, retorted with a defiant smile,
"Critical? My dear fellow, you greatly exaggerate. These superficial scratches are nothing to be so anxious about. I assure you that I am quite alright!"
With these words, Basil reached for his pipe and filled it with tobacco, which, eccentric as his habits were, he kept in a Persian slipper above the fireplace in the living room. Needless to say, the good doctor was aghast at the statement, and looked at Basil open-mouthed, uncertain of how to persuade him from resting himself for at least a few more hours. However, he knew not that his friend had an iron constitution which tended to strongly rebel against immobility.
"Don't look so scared, Dawson. It's really not as bad as it seems…" To put the medical mouse at ease, he then walked back to his bed. Since Dawson's face clearly indicated disbelief, Basil added, "I do confess I've never felt as stricken as I did yesterday night, but I shall be as fit as a fiddle in no time. Speaking of fiddles… would you please be so kind as to hand me my violin?"
"Surely you don't intend to play!" Dawson exclaimed.
"How can I?" Basil replied, "Don't you remember, Dawson? I wrecked it accidentally by sitting on it. No no, I only wish to have a look at it to see if anything can be done to mend it somehow… I haven't had the opportunity to do so ever since the most unfortunate incident."
"Here you are," Dawson said, handing him the instrument. Basil examined it a few moments, then laid it aside. Dawson detected a trace of sadness in his eyes, but which seemed to have vanished a second after its appearance.
"Negative," Basil murmured bitterly.
"I'm very sorry about it," Dawson said, genuinely disappointed.
"She has lived for long enough… sometimes permanent farewells come earlier than expected," Basil mused, as though alluding to something else.
Though somewhat reluctantly, Basil allowed himself to be convinced by the others to rest himself properly for the remaining day. Dawson went out for a walk with the Flavershams, returning in the evening. They sincerely thanked Mrs. Judson for letting them stay at Baker Street, for, as it looked like, yet another night. Luckily, Basil's condition had further improved, and after dinner, around 7 p.m., he sat, as was his custom, cross-legged in his favourite armchair clad in his purple dressing gown, smoking a pipe, while the others, also in the room, cheered that their friend was feeling better, and that the evil Professor would never wreak havoc in London again.
"Thank God, the despicable villain will never return! Indeed, I never wish people ill, but someone such as Ratigan truly deserved his fate. What a blessing it is that he is gone!" Dr. Dawson cried. "To Basil of Baker Street!", he then exclaimed, raising the glass into which Mrs. Judson had poured him, and Mr. Flaversham, some champagne in celebration of the occasion. Olivia, sipping from a cup of peppermint tea and helping herself to some of Mrs. Judson's cheese crumpets, curiously examined Basil's chemistry set while the adults chinked glasses, rejoiced and laughed.
"Mr. Basil, I don't know if champagne will do you good, but if you please, I might as well also pour you a glass!" Mrs Judson said, turning to her tenant with a friendly smile.
"Very well, Mrs. Judson, you may do so!" he replied, winking at her mischievously.
"Basil, come over to the table and join our toast!" Dawson cried. Basil slowly got off his armchair, took a glass of champagne out of Mrs. Judson's hand and raised his glass as well.
"To everyone present!" he said, and subsequently, a pleasant ringing sound came from the colliding crystals. Olivia heard it and went towards the others.
"Can I toast too?" she asked.
"Of course, my dear!", her father said, and soon, the little mouse raised her little cup of tea and toasted with the others. When Basil saw her, he felt a bit awkward, but, though initially hesitantly, he raised his glass to the beaming Olivia's little cup, chuckling a little.
"Mr. Basil, I really don't know how to thank you," Mr. Flaversham said. "Olivia and I both owe you our life."
"It's quite alright," Basil said modestly, "It is you who should be thanked, for if it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have found out about Ratigan's diabolical scheme."
"Thankfully, Olivia knew just the right mouse to contact in her time of need," Dr. Dawson said. "By the way, Mr. Flaversham, how did you find out about Basil and his work?"
"An old acquaintance once recommended him to me," Flaversham replied, "He had read about Mr. Basil in a newspaper article about a case he was involved in helping the Scotland Yard detectives… My acquaintance said that if ever found myself in a situation where I needed help of an extraordinarily clever mouse, I should contact one Mr. Basil of Baker Street."
Dawson said, "Indeed, how lucky I must consider myself to have accidentally come across Olivia after the terrible event… Otherwise, I would not have made Basil's acquaintance, and nor yours, Mr. Flaversham! I say, you do have a remarkable talent for creating original toys… quite an extraordinary gift indeed!"
"Thank you very much," Flaversham replied with a modest smile.
"I quite agree with Dr. Dawson," Basil said, "Your robotic Queen Mousetoria imposter was the work of sheer genius… although it was designed with Ratigan's malicious intent… but for what it was, it was astoundingly crafted. You should be awarded for your exceptional talent, I would suggest." Blushing, Flaversham faced the ground before nodding at Basil as an expression of gratitude for the sincere compliment.
Basil then distanced himself from the group and went back to sit in his armchair, while Dawson and Flaversham animatedly conversed.
"Can I get you gentlemen anything else?" Mrs. Judson asked them.
Dawson said, "Mrs. Judson, you are truly most generous! Don't you want to join us in our conversation?" The landlady coloured.
"Indeed, Doctor, if you insist… I shall gladly participate!" She added, smiling, "In all these years with Mr. Basil as my tenant, I've never had so many guests at once under this roof! He never receives anyone, actually, except clients… but naturally, I don't get to talk to them!"
She laughed, visibly overjoyed at the lively company. Eventually, they reverted to their talk about the late Professor Ratigan, and Dawson cried, "The devil is finally dead!"
"Wait a minute…. that reminds me of that folk song! Irish, isn't it?" asked Mrs. Judson, who was a very gregarious lady when she was not forced to deal with her tenant's odd habits.
"You're right!" Dawson cried, and, having had a little too much champagne, immediately broke into song, slightly altering the original lyrics: "Some say the devil is dead, the devil is dead, the devil is dead, some say the devil is dead and buried 'neath Big Ben Tower! He'll never rise again, he'll never rise again, he'll never rise again, he's reached his final hour!"
Mrs. Judson laughed. "Doctor, you do have a wonderful sense of humour!"
"Care to join me for a duet?" he asked her, charmingly as always, and the landlady, flattered by the request, said, "I'm warning you, I'm not much of a singer, but I'll do my best!" A moment later the two plump mice were singing and dancing across the room like children. Mr. Flaversham, somewhat embarrassed, sat down at table and watched them from a distance. Olivia came to sit next to her father, incredibly amused by the landlady's and the doctor's strange behaviour.
"I wonder if Basil would approve of our lyrical variation," Dawson said with enthusiasm.
"Mr. Basil? I daresay I doubt it," Mrs. Judson whispered, shaking her head. "He's got his own bizarre sense of humour, such as frightening me out of my wits by appearing in some crazy disguise in the middle of the night after returning home from hunting down some delinquent...just to hear me say that his disguise was so effective… well, it always is, there's no denying that, Mr. Basil's an extraordinary gentleman, but his behaviour can be excruciating when one is forced to experience it every day, such as myself, Sir… But anyway, for all his faults, as I said, he's an extraordinary gentleman, and just saved his country from, as he described him, the most devious criminal that ever walked England's earth… that's why I can never stay too angry with him, though admittedly, he does drive me bonkers every now and then!"
"Oh…I see… Well, indeed, when I first met him, I thought he was a lunatic, so… your point is entirely valid, Mrs. Judson…"
"It's strange, sir, but somehow, I can't help myself from being quite fond of him, in spite of all… Believe it or not, he does have his own ways of being courteous, though sometimes, if I didn't know any better, I'd think he was downright rude, ordering me about and such… but I tell you Doctor, I'm so glad to see he's recovering from that nasty battle! You wouldn't believe the terror I felt when I saw him, the fine clothes tattered and the poor thing covered in slashes and such – I hoped it was only a nightmare!"
"Indeed, it was terribly dreadful, for all of us," Dawson said. "But thankfully, he's got an iron constitution and a strong will. My good deal of medical knowledge proved itself valuable once again as well."
"Absolutely… and Mr. Basil loves his life far too much to seriously consider surrendering to anything that threatens him. He'd even go so far as to deny the very existence of peril when it comes to himself… Well, until his depression sets in, that is."
Dawson nodded, but did not comment on her last words, having experienced what she had meant himself. He was content with himself for having motivated a defeated and pessimistic Basil to think of a solution how to escape Ratigan's sophisticated death trap. And it had worked.