1907

"What do you think about those marks, Basil?" Dawson asked as his friend sat on his favourite armchair. Hiram and Olivia Flaversham had left Baker Street just a few minutes before.

Basil shrugged. "Well, I cannot deduce much about them...but they haven't been made with knives or some other tool, that's certain. They're surely claw marks."

"Claws..." Dawson whispered, wincing slightly. His eyes went on the picture who still was on the wall upon the fireplace.

Basil laughed, understanding what his friend was thinking about. "Now, now, Dawson" he said, sounding rather amused "you don't believe in ghosts, do you, old fellow?"

"Of course I don't" Dawson said quikly "it was just...no, it was nothing. Just let it go."

Basil looked very serious now. "You saw his body, doctor. No one can come back from death, you should know it. "

The doctor shuddered slightly at the memory: as he had seen it, Ratigan's body was covered with mud and dried blood, from the scratches and various injuries all over his body. His spinal cord had been damaged from the fall, but he hadn't died immediatly: he had still had enough strenght to gain the riverbank. He had most likely died both for the blood loss and the internal haemorrhage who had compromised his breathing system: his lungs were filled with blood.

Dawson couldn't help to take pity on him for the way he had died. No one, not even a criminal, deserved a such death, dying after a long agony with no one beside you.

The good doctor couldn't know he was wrong about that point: Ratigan hadn't died alone.

"Of course I know it" he finally said "I told you, it was nothing. Just let it go, alright? It was surely just a stupid joke. Nothing to worry about."

"Hm" Basil just reached for his violin, saying nothing, while the rain began to fall over London.

It was still raining that nigh as a massive figure wearing a dark coat, a shadow among shadows, stood in the middle of the roadway, his dust-colored fur soaked with water, staring at the scratched door of a certain apartment in Baker Street.

It was a bitter cold night, but the figure didn't seem to care about it, uncaring even of the icy wind rushing over him, messing up his black hair. The figure didn't move for a long time, then he bent over to pick up a small rock from the ground. A pair of yellow eyes looked at it for a moment, then the figure clenched his clawed hand in a fist. As he unclenched his paw, the rock had become nothing but a dust.

Am I strong enough now, father?

He shook his head. What was he exactly doing there? He let the cold wind dispel the dust, then he began to walk away without giving another glance towards Basil of Baker Street's home. Somewhere in the fog the Big Ben tolled midnight, cusing the figure to wince.

You've taken everything from me, detective: my father, my innocence, my life. Why shouldn't I take your life as well? No need of elaborathed plans or traps: I could just wait for you to come out and then leap for you, for your throat. I could rip you to shreds without much effort: it's so easy to end the life of another creature. A quick death, Basil...much quicker than the one my father suffered because of YOU.

The shadow stopped and turned back to Baker Street, twitching his large tail.

I acted stupid scratching you door...I made you somehow aware of my presence. But I couldn't control it, I just snapped and acted without thinking, completely by instinct. And that scares me, you know, detective? I'm scared of the part of me I cannot control...the predator hiding under my skin, claiming for his kill.

A strange laughter echoed in the foggy night as the figure walked away, disappearing in a dark alley. And guess who is the kill he's claiming, detective? Kill you would be easy, you know. It would be fair.

But I'm not a murderer.

Not yet.

"Stupid rain!" Olivia cursed under her breath as she got into the book shop, closing her umbrella. It hadn't stopped raining since the day before. She had almost forgotten how often it rained in London.

The store was very crowded, mostly because of the rain. She sighed and made her way to the bookshelves, looking for some intresting novels, but she couldn't reach the books on the hightest ledge.

"Damn" she said, then she saw a ladder a few feet from her and climber on it to reach the hightest ledge. She took a book and read the title.

"Pride and Prejudice" she said to herself, tracing the title's elaborathed letters with a finger "hmm, sounds intresting...AH!"

A mouse had shoved past the ladder, knocking it to the ground. Olivia tried to hang on the bookshelf, but she lost her grip after a few moments. She closed her eyes as she fell, waiting for the impact with the floor...then somebody's strong arms caught her before she hit the ground.

"Wacth your steps, you idiot!" a deep angry voice snapped towards the mouse who had almost made her fall on the floor, then it softened as his owner spoke to her "are you alright, Miss?"

Olivia opened her eyes, and shuddered as she saw a pair of golden eyes staring at her. "Uh, I...I'm fine, thanks. I'm just a bit scared, I guess" she said rather nervously as he put her down "thanks for helping me."

"You're welcome" he just said, then he bent over to pick up the copy of Pride and Prejudice "I guess it's yours" he said, handig it to her.

"Oh...yes, it'mine" she said, taking back the book. She looked at the guy who had saved her, half-scared and half-fascinated.

Tall and powerful body...thick chest, broad shoulders...sharp fangs instead of normal teeth...yellow eyes, wormlike tail...

A rat. She had been saved by a rat.

Fate had sense of humor.

"Any problem, Miss?" he asked, sounding a little annoyed. He had clearly noticed the way she had looked at him. Olivia quikly shook her head.

"No, not at all. I'm sorry, I was just a little..." she tought for a moment "well...surprised. I hope I didn't offend you, I had no means..."

He just shrugged. "Don't worry, I'm not offended. I can understand you're surprised" he said bitterly, walking away.

"Wait!" she suddenly exclaimed, hurring after him. He stopped, perking up his ears. It sounded somehow familiar.

"What?" he asked, half-turning towards her.

"I must apologize to you" she said, approaching to him. Good lord, he was so much taller than her! "You helped me, and I've been terribly rude. I didn't even introduce myself. My name is Olivia Flaversham" she said, holding out her hand to him.

He blinked once again. Her name too sounded familiar, as if he had already heard it, many years ago...but he couldn't remember when.

"I'm Jeremy Ratchett" he said, shaking her hand "enchanté."

"Uh...I beg your pardon?"

Jeremy laughed. "It's french. Nice to meet you."

"You do speak french?" she asked, fascinated.

"Yes. I've lived in France for a couple of years."

"Really? I've never been in France" she said, sounding impressed "have you been in Paris?"

"Yes, I spent about seven months there. Lovely city. And very comfortable sewers, I should add" he said, winking at her.

Olivia laughed. "Yes, I've heard about the Parisian sewers" she said, then she looked out from the store and noticed it had stopped raining "listen, Mr. Ratchett...there's a nice coffee house near here. May I invite you to drink something...just to thank you?"

Jeremy shook his head. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"Of course I know. I'm not inviting you because I have to – I'm doing this because I want to" she simply replied "if you will accept the invitation, of course."

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid my presence would shock most of the coffee house's costumers."

"And you do care about their reaction?" Olivia asked with a grin.

Jeremy grinned back. "Well...I guess I don't."

"Good" she said cheerfully "let's go, then. The coffee house is just behind the corner."

"Uhm...Miss Flaversham?"

"It's Olivia" she said "no need of formalities."

"Alright, then...aren't you going to pay for that book before we go, Olivia?"

"Uh?"

Olivia looked down and noticed she still had the copy of Pride and Prejudice in her hands "Oh, my...I completely forgot about the book" she laughed, heading towards the cash desk "just wait a second, I'll be back in no time...looks like you prevented me from becoming a thief!"

Jeremy just smiled to himself.

A damn pretty thief, in my humble opinion...

1919

"And that's how you got your first date?" Howard asked with a sly grin.

Jeremy shrugged. "Technically it wasn't a real date...but yes, that's how we met the first...well, the second time."

"But how could you not recognize the each other?" the boy asked.

"We had only met one time ten years before, and just for a few moments. It's not so odd that we didn't..."

"Yes, but she told you her surname was Flaversham!" Howard exclaimed, theatrically jumping down from his father's knees to emphasize his words "how could you don't remember about that surname?"

"Father never told me about his plans for the Diamond Jubilee, and at the time the newspapers didn't publicised the toymaker's name in order to protect him and his daughter. I had never got to know his name."

Howard sighed. "Alright, then…what happened next?"

"Do you really want to know what happened next?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then sit back down and shut up."