Chapter 7: Blackout

December 21, 1898

"Drat!" I shouted once more when my chemical reaction failed, spilling over onto the floor and ruining the polished wooden surface. Not caring that my landlady would once again lecture me for the destruction of her property, I dumped out the remaining chemicals before attending to the mess of my hands. "Where did I go wrong?"

Taking myself over the steps one at a time, I noticed my simple mistake. How could I have missed that one step? I knew why. Miss Méndez. All evening, my thoughts were of nothing but her. She was all I could see in my mind. Perhaps Dawson was right. Maybe I have…

"This is ridiculous! She's my client. These feelings shouldn't be affecting me this way. In fact, these feeling shouldn't even exist!" I groaned deeply, taking out the small list I had been given of the items taken from the magic shop. "Hmm, I wonder…"

The wind started picking up slightly as Dawson hopped off the cab that had stopped two blocks away from the flat. He smiled happily, humming while he made his way home. He had spent the day with his fiancé, Miss Abigail Norwood before she left for Birmingham to spend the Christmas holiday with her family. Dawson had planned to meet her in a few days' time once the case was close to completion. However, at the rate said case was going, he feared his plans were to be altered. Miss Norwood understood of course for she knew how the eccentric detective was. But she also knew how complicated this particular case was. Since she was to stay for a few weeks, he promised he would meet her there either way.

Once reaching the familiar flat, Dawson was surprised to see complete darkness when he stepped inside. He knew that Mrs Judson and Miss Méndez had gone out as well and wouldn't be returning for another hour, but Basil was nowhere to be seen. Brightening up the room, he noticed the large burn mark on the floor by his partner's lab. Sighing, he hung up his coat before heading upstairs to his room. Just as he reached the top of the staircase, he heard a slight thump coming from the bedroom to the right side of him. Wanting to ignore it, a slight pang of guilt told him otherwise. Hearing another thud, Dawson sighed before knocking on the door.

"Basil?" Hearing no response, he knocked again. Nothing. Twisting the knob, he walked into a pitch black room. Across the way was Basil sitting at the edge of his bed in a dishevelled state, throwing darts at the wall. Shaking his head, Dawson closed the door before approaching his quiet friend.

"My dear, Basil…" Eyeing his younger partner's unorganized desk, when he saw that the drawer was unlocked and slightly ajar, his gaze meet the desk's surface where he spotted a small bottle and needle, alongside that was a white cloth with a slight stain of blood. Anger soon ran through the good doctor's veins. A third thud, forced him to look away from the hideous sight and back to whom he was focused on. "Into the cocaine, I see." Like before, the darkened detective said nothing. Taking a chair that was on the other side of the room, Dawson moved it closer to where his friend sat, making sure to keep out of his way if another dart was to be thrown.

"Basil if there is one thing I will never understand is how in God's name you could risk such damage to the great powers in which that you have been endowed. The only time I see you attacking that retched bottle is when you aren't given any artificial stimulants, which baffles me because you are engaged in what's probably your most puzzling case yet. I see you aren't in one of your normal black moods, so pray explain why I see you in such a state."

Throwing a fourth dart, Dawson waited for an answer. "I feel that I'm at a dead end, Dawson," said Basil in a low, but coherent tone. "I feel that I should simply give up for all I have is a bunch of nonsense."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"On my desk are two copies of the three volumes that were missing from the shop. Some odd reason, I wished to assume that these two particular items had some direct connection to Miss Méndez."

Hearing this, Dawson glance up at his friend with great question. "What? That is completely ridiculous. How can this have anything to do with her, the break-in occurred before the poor child even arrived here."

"Precisely!" shouted Basil, springing up from his bed with such force. "If she doesn't help me by telling me more than she has, then helping her will be a complete waste-!"

"Yes, Basil. Of course. That's exactly what you should do, give up on the one woman you truly care about."

"I don't…! I…." He groaned.

"Just admit it. Admit you care for her more than you will deny." Before Basil could say a word, a loud crash was heard from downstairs. Not thinking twice, both mice rushed to the ground floor only to see the window by the door smashed. Oh the floor, surrounded by shattered glass was a large rock. Tied to it was a folded piece of paper with the detective's name on it.

"What is it?" questioned Dawson while Basil picked up the attached note. Tossing the rock off to the side, the doctor watched with anticipation while his colleague read its contents. He soon became concerned when the detective's expression changed ever so drastically.

"Damn!" Basil exclaimed as he ripped out of his smoking jacket, completely forgetting his Inverness coat that hung on the coat rack.

"What is it? Basil!" Grabbing his own coat, he rushed out the door in close pursuit. "Blast!"

Dawson couldn't remember the last time he ever ran as fast as he did, but somehow, he managed to keep at the same pace as his friend. Unfortunately, both lost sight of their target. Basil watched, feeling helpless as the mysterious visitor disappeared into the fog. Frustration and the very thought of failure boiled his blood.

"Goddamn it! I can't believe I lost him," the angered detective shouted, flailing his arms in the air. The doctor watched with sadness as his friend grunted loudly, pounding his fits against the brick wall. He could see that Basil was blaming himself for losing the culprit. Cautiously walking over to him, he placed a hand on his shaky shoulder, but as expected, Basil shrugged him away. "I was so close! So close, but I…God, I want to kill him. Whoever is attacking her, I want to kill him."

"Was it truly that horrid?" questioned Dawson vigilantly.

"Was it that-? Would I be out here in the blasted cold if it wasn't?" his partner snapped harshly. "Just have a look for yourself!" Shoving the crumpled note into the doctor's hand, Basil continued pacing as he waited impatiently for his colleague to read its contents.

"My, God…," Dawson whispered, disturbed by what he had just read. Now he understood why Basil had reacted the way he did for he would as well if anyone had threatened his fiancé in the same manner.

"Now you understand, doctor. And this is just the beginning. His next move might be something far worse than what we've received tonight."

"Should we tell Miss Méndez about this?"

"No, she mustn't know. It'll probably silence her more than she already has."

"But…do you think that's wise? What if she finds it? Or worse…?"

Thinking about it, Basil knew it was a possibility, though he wanted to think otherwise. "Frankly, it's not, but I shall make sure it doesn't reach that point." With the cold finally getting to the detective, he sighed once more before heading in the direction they came. "Come along, Dawson. We'll deal with this later. We must get back before the girls return. I'll call upon Barrie in the morning to fix the window. In the meantime, we'll board it up."

"About that…What are we going to tell them?"

"We'll tell them half the truth, just say that old enemy of mine decided to pay me a friendly visit." Still feeling a bit sceptical by his friend's judgment, Dawson decided to leave it at that. He only hoped that Basil's choice of keeping most of what had happened a secret from his client a wise decision.