To call Mammoth different was London would be comparable to saying tea was different from coffee. London was a city of stone, paved in such a way to allow all modes of transport to loosely coexist with each other to get around. Mammoth was the complete opposite. There were no sidewalks, no designated lanes to follow, and no stones to walk on. It was just a simple strip of dirt that all residents had to walk on. From the mice to the horses. This meant that Basil and Dawson had to be extra vigilant to avoid being stomped on by a speeding horse or an oblivious human.
After dodging horses, carts, and boots, Basil and Dawson arrive at their supposed destination. Sticking out among the rows of simple wooden boxes stood a two story tall white building. The entrance was simple. A pair of doors that swing both ways. Basil and Dawson were about to enter when a large mouse was flung through them. He slammed into the dirt at their feet. His battered and bruised face revealed how plastered he was. The detective and doctor stared at the mouse in shock.
"And stay out!" They turned their attention to the doors. A female mouse with light brown fur in a dirt colored dress glared at the mouse on the ground. Her left ear twitched repeatedly as she fixed her long brown hair and turned back through the doors.
Basil stared at the doors, flabbergasted. Dawson looked at the plastered mouse to make sure he was still breathing. Basil didn't notice nor care about the mouse on the ground. He simply walked through the doors that the other mouse disappeared into. His companion propped the unconscious drunk up against the wall and followed Basil inside.
–
The inside was just as chaotic as the outside. It was a large room filled with tables occupied by mice dressed in dirty cowboy clothing. All of them guzzled down drinks of every type. Near the middle of the room was a staircase that led to a second floor landing, which had several doors lining the wall.
Off to the right was a stage with a ragged red curtain. To the left was a large bar with a wall decorated by liquor bottles. Basil could see the same female mouse from before walking around the counter.
Her annoyed expression was gone in favor of a gentle smile as she placed a comforting hand on another female mouse standing behind the counter. This one was slightly taller and wore a light blue dress that complemented her stylized light red hair.
Dawson groaned as he stepped inside and realized what kind of place this was. "Oh no, not again." He muttered.
Basil pushed his way through the crowd toward the bar. By the time he did, the red haired mouse was gone and the other mouse was handing out two large mugs to a pair of chuckling miners.
She seemed to notice the detective approaching her. Her eyebrow raised for a moment before she put in her best welcoming face.
"Afternoon, gentlemice." Basil could pick up the accent she had and it only piqued his interest. "What'll it be?"
"Some water would be most appreciated." Dawson said as he tugged at his collar. The heat was getting to him already. The mouse laughed.
"You'll 'ave to take a dive in a trough for that, I'm afraid." She turned and poured something into two large mugs.
"'Ere. This'll quench ya." Dawson grabbed a glass and started guzzling down the liquid without hesitation. Basil rolled his eyes. The good doctor hadn't learned from the last time. Within seconds, the glass was empty and Dawson's world spun round like a carousel.
Basil noticed the cheeky look in the mouse's eyes as she stared at him. With a shrug, he took a careful sip of his glass. He could taste the liquor the moment it touched his tongue. It was strong. But he couldn't taste anything else. He'd been drugged enough times to know what to look for. And for once, he didn't have to worry.
He took a more generous sip from the glass and smacked his lips together. It was good. A little stronger than the stuff back in England, but still good.
The bartender chuckled as she watched Dawson attempt to stand up straight. He wobbled in place and tried to grip into something that wasn't there. Basil had enough of the display and helped his intoxicated companion to a stool. Once they were both seated, the bartender spoke up.
"Will there be anythin' else?"
Basil cleared his throat. "Yes, do you know where we can find a Miss Isabelle Stone?"
The mouse's whole demeanor changed once again. Her welcoming aura darkened and her muscles tensed up. "What for?"
"It's alright, Meabh." A voice came from behind Basil. It sounded soft, with a hint of that Southern Belle accent. The one that made women of the south sound so enticing to most men. "I'm sure I can handle this gentlemouse."
Basil turned to see the same mouse from before. Her light red locks and blue dress made her stand out from the crowd behind her. He could see her eyes housing an innocence like no other. No contempt of any kind. In his line of work, such eyes were a rarity.
The detective respectfully removed his hat toward his chest. "Miss Stone, my name is Basil-"
"Of Baker Street " She interrupted. "Mister Harland told me you'd be coming."
In any other circumstance, Basil would have been annoyed at being interrupted. It usually meant someone had figured something out just a split second faster than he had and that would never do. But here, he could see no harm or rivalry from Miss Stone.
"Yes, I hope he's still here."
"Of course, I'm not going to leave that poor mouse out in the street." Isabelle turned and gestured for him to follow. She turned her attention to the bartender.
"Meabh, make sure Mister Basil's friend is well looked after."
Meabh nodded and started gathering some ingredients from around the bar. Basil was curious to watch, but Professor Harland took precedence. So he reluctantly left Dawson whe