Basil On The Case
I took it hard when I lost my chance of being married. I spent one month in utter despair and the next month as drunk as possible. When my henchmen finally talked me into once again being the world's greatest criminal mind instead of the world's most sorrowful bum, I vowed to kill any love I ever found, whether it was the love between a man and a woman, a parent and a child, or even two siblings. Executing vengeance against love itself made me feel much better, and everyone in Mousedom feared for their lives.
I spent the next several months getting as rich as possible, killing wealthy citizens or finding other ways to seize property, whichever I felt like doing at the time. One day, I received a letter from my former friend and future foe. I hadn't told him about my criminal record, but we still managed to keep in touch. This was his last letter to me:
My dear Padraic,
It seems an eternity since I left for the university, but having completed my course of study, I shall be returning home shortly. I am most eager to meander through the streets of London again and be reunited with my family.
From what you write in your letters, you are enjoying prosperity as a wealthy entrepreneur. My most sincere condolences on your broken engagement, but I am pleased to hear that you have since recovered from your profound grief. It appears you are doing well.
However, I must confess that I worry about you. Ever since a few months after I left London, I have received word of a most nefarious criminal who ruthlessly terrorizes the city. He is said to be more evil than any felon in the entire history of Mousedom. I greatly fear for your safety. If this fiend should take you hostage, you would be in grave danger. As soon as I return, I shall do my best to see him imprisoned, but you must promise me that you will be careful.
I wasn't expecting the tumult of emotions that hit me as I read the letter. To be recognized by Londoners as a reprehensible felon gave me a joyous feeling of control, but to have my childhood friend think of me as such hurt more than I imagined. The ink on the paper seemed to blur as I rapidly blinked my eyes and tried to swallow the knot in my throat.
"Is something wrong, boss?" Fidget asked.
His voice startled me. I hadn't heard anyone enter the lair.
"Do you know the ancient Greek legend of Damon and Pythius?" I inquired.
"Never heard of them, sir."
I sighed. "I didn't think so."
"What's wrong?" Bill queried. "You look like you've lost your best friend."
I made no reply as I touched a lit cigarette to the letter. Two minutes after the detective arrived home from his studies, he bought a newspaper. Seeing my name in the headlines, he suddenly understood everything.
"If this is the cost of friendship, never again will I allow anyone to get close to me," he whispered to himself.
Always before had he been optimistic and as sociable as possible, but realizing it was his civic duty to bring me to justice, Basil of Baker Street became a true loner. His optimism faded, causing him to suffer with bouts of depression for the rest of his life.