Stripped
Disclaimer: The only people own are Ben and Chester Meroff. Don't use them without asking.
Author's Note: Ben came into my mind one day while I was daydreaming and pestered me until I wrote a story. So here it is. Not my best work, but I decided to post it anyway. I have no idea where Chester came from.
Chester leaned lazily back in his red velvet arm chair, holding a wine glass, half full of red wine, watching the stolen locket with half closed eyes as he twirled it slowly around his finger. He caught the locket in his paw and flicked it open. Inside he saw a picture of a female child, being held by an adult male mouse. His eyes snapped open when he saw the male. He felt rage build up in his gut and his ears flatten as his fingers curled around the glass until it shattered, sending wine cascading over his fur and shards of glass to dig into his paw and fall onto the plush red carpet.
After many minutes of pacing and muttering to himself, Basil settled back down into his chair and stared into the fire with narrowed eyes.
"Any luck?" Dawson asked, sitting down on the empty seat next to Ben, who cast him a weary glance and scooted away from him, as far as she could go.
"Not now doctor, I'm trying to think," He snapped, smoke billowing from his pipe. Ben was doing some thinking of her own. She was totally lost on why someone would feel that she needed to die. She knew being a pickpocket could get you in trouble, especially if you picked the wrong person's pocket, but she didn't do anything like that. She knew whose pocket to pick and who's not to.
She rested her chin in her paw, racking her brain to find the answer. A memory then sprang into her mind, one that was long ago forgotten and buried under the others. . .
She sat at the wooden table in the kitchen, drinking tea with her father. He had a troubled look on his face and jumped at little noises.
"You know Daddy's friend?" He asked her, taking a sip of his overly sweet tea.
"Mister Meroff?" She inquired, drinking her tea, which was mostly milk and sugar.
"Yes. I don't want you going anywhere with him anymore. He's bad news." He told her, setting his cup down.
"Why? He was always nice to me?" She asked, confused at her father's sudden request.
"He's been acting strange lately, like he's angry. Very angry," He told her, staring down into the contents of his cup.
Ben gasped slightly at a hand on her upper arm. She turned and saw Dawson resting his hand on her arm, looking concerned. She slapped his hand away, glaring blue daggers at him. She then shifted her attention to Basil, keeping one eye on the surprised doctor and hesitantly tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped slightly and looked at her.
"There better be a good reason for interrupting my thoughts," Basil said, annoyance crossing his features. She scribbled down a quick note on paper and handed it to him.
"Chester Meroff was friends with your father?" Basil asked, his eyes widening. Ben nodded, her eyes copying Basil's. He sprang out of his chair, a look of mirth on his face.
"Well, now we know the connection he has with you. I can probably find out the rest with the help of my companion here. Good night." He said, waving Ben off as if she were a fly.
"Now wait a minuet Basil. He could be important to us. Plus, someone out there is trying to kill him and your just going to send him off?" Dawson interjected, rising from his seat.
"I have all the information I need," Basil simply said. It didn't bother him where the boy went. He then happened to glance at his chemistry table and notice that the chemicals were all arranged in a straight line. His eyebrows drew together, and he went over to the table to get a closer look. They were even in alphabetical order!
"Dawson, do you know who's been fooling with the chemicals?" He asked slowly.
"You know as well as I that I was with you so I don't know." He answered.
"Well, it certainly wasn't Ms. Judson, so it must've been. . . you!" He pointed an accusing finger at Ben, who nodded.
"Why did you mess with my stuff?" He asked, his tone demanding an answer. She wrote down her answer on a paper and handed it to him.
"You just felt like it." He read out loud. "Well, you what I feel like doing," He crumbled the paper and threw it on the floor. "Not letting you stay here and not caring if that psychotic criminal gets you. Goodbye." He said, pointing in the general direction of the front door. Ben's face fell as she stood up to walk toward the door. Great it's back on the streets and back in danger.
"Come now old man, let him stay," Dawson said, catching Ben around the arm, who promptly yanked it out of his grasp, but stopped in her tracks. "He won't touch your stuff anymore, right?" looking at Ben as silently asking her to agree. She nodded her agreement, her spirits lifting.
Basil glared at Ben, who was starting at him with hopeful eyes. If he's smart enough to arrange the chemicals like that, maybe he could be useful.
"All right, fine, stay if you want," He said finally. "But," He added. "You sleep on the couch and you do not get in the way of my work. Do you understand?" He demanded, looking Ben right in the eye. She nodded.
"I'm glad you do," He told her, returning to his chair and sulking.
"He's going to be like that for a while. He hates having strange people in the house." Dawson told Ben.