Basil: Good evening, Ma'am. How may we help….you?
He was a little surprised to see how her dress was torn up and wet. But Dawson, on the other hand, found Rosa to be very beautiful. He looked like he was smitten with her. Basil tried to be polite, so not to offend her because of the dress.
Basil: Eh, allow to introduce myself, Ma'am. I am Basil of Baker Street. And this is my friend and college, Dr. Dawson, to whom you may speak freely as you would to me.
Basil elbowed Dawson in the arm to make him snap of out his lovesick trance.
Dawson: Huh? Oh, uh, right. How do you do, miss uh-
Rosa: Rosa Spellcove. You will excuse this dress, I had quite a rough travel in getting here.
Basil: You were nearly eaten by a cat and got splashed by a motorcar.
Rosa: How did you know that?
Basil: The torn shreds in your dress have shown they weren't torn by a ruffian with a knife or ripped by accident. The force of those shreds are rather large enough, so I deduced that you were nearly attacked by an alley cat. Second, you're soaking wet because you were splashed by a motorcar because nearly everyone gets wet from being splashed by a horse carriage or motorcar.
Rosa: (unamused) Uh-huh.
Mrs. Judson: Now Mr. Basil, this poor young woman has been through enough today. You could at least be more-
Basil: I know, Mrs. Judson, I know. Perhaps you can get her a new dress while you sew up her old one.
Mrs. Judson: That's just what I had in mind.
000000
Downstairs, Basil and Dawson sat in their regular chairs and waited patiently for their client.
Basil: I say Dawson, you look as if you ate too much cheese sandwiches for lunch. The last time you did, you got sick.
Dawson: Huh? Oh, it's nothing. I just couldn't help thinking how lovely Miss Spellcove is. So young, so beautiful. Don't you agree, Basil?
Basil: Oh, well, sort of.
Dawson: What do you mean sort of?
As they talked, they didn't know that Rosa was secretly overhearing their conversation.
Basil: I'm not attracted to beautiful women like you, old man. I'm not an admirer of womankind. In fact, their motivations are so inscrutable. Their most trivial actions may mean many volumes, their most extraordinary conduct may depend upon the hairpin.
Dawson: Well surely you could show some impression on women.
Basil: Dawson, it is of first importance not to allow your judgment to be based on personal qualities. A client is to me, male or female, a mere unit, a factor in a problem. I would not tell them much. Women are never entirely to be trusted, not the best of them.
Dawson: You know what? I think you dislike and distrust all women. But I know that the only woman you ever showed interest in was the beautiful Miss Relda. She was the only woman to ever outsmart you and you liked her for it.
Basil: What? I didn't say I liked her for it. I once said that I was impressed by her intelligence and resourcefulness.
Rosa: What about resourcefulness and intelligence?
The two men glanced back to see Rosa coming down the stairs, wearing a magenta pink dress with black linings. Her hair was in a low ponytail with a magenta bow.
Dawson: Oh my. You certainly look quite beautiful, Miss Spellcove.
Rosa: Thank you.
Mrs. Judson: This dress used to belong to me when I was young. I'll wash your old dress and sew it up for you.
Then she sniffed the air. Gray smoke was coming from the kitchen.
Mrs. Judson: Oh my goodness! The tea!
The minute she opened the door, gray smoke filled the room. Basil, Dawson, and Rosa coughed.
Dawson: You need any help, Mrs. Judson?
He went into the kitchen and Basil opened a window to let the smoke out.
Basil: And here I thought I was only one to create a large cloud of smoke. But my chemistry set creates more smoke than that.
Rosa: Do you now? So Mr. Basil, are you and the doctor close friends?
Basil: Oh yes. Dawson and I first met when he returned from Afghanistan, and we both got involved in a case together, rescuing a little girl's father from-
Rosa: But is he pretty? Is he fragrant?
Basil: Dawson? Of course he is. He's as pretty as a walrus and as fragrant as a kiber cloud. But for all his faults, he's Dawson.
Rosa: Ha!
Basil: What do you mean "ha?"
Rosa: How typical hiding behind such feeble excuse
Dawson such a loveable moose
Who's only held in high regard because he flatters your facade
Basil: I beg your pardon?
Rosa: A totally, arrogant, masculine, attitude, highly, insensitive, fully in gratitude
Because you are frightened of women your friends are all wet
There's no intellectual stimulus challenge you'll fret
To endanger the small mind of self-rules you set
You set your sights low and low is what you get
Basil: Miss-
Rosa: A totally, totally, typical of the frail male scent
Basil: Miss Spellcove-
Rosa: Men like you infuriate women like me because you're too stubborn too see that women are such intelligent, elegant, creatures
Men like you exasperate women like me because you prefer us to be some fools who are drooling for fools for masculine teachers
With small surprise you see such sadness in our eyes
Men just don't realize the harm they do
Basil: Me?!
Rosa: I mean men like you
You aggravate women like me
To valuate permanently our point of view
And that is why you see it's tragic but it's true
That women like me like bungling men like you
Basil: Miss Spellcove, there is I suspect more to you than meets the eye. But that is a truly, heart-rending, piece of propaganda, totally lacking in any evidence to support your case.
Rosa: And how do you mean that, Mr. Basil?
Basil: It's typical, quite typical, failing to make any logical senses
Attack is your devious needs of defense
Your views with me can't conceive don't even flatter to deceive
Rosa: Mr. Basil-
Basil: A typically, dangerous, feminine, attitude likely to intellect heavy inaptitude
You say I am frightened of women well that I must doubt
For once it will reason what could I be frightened about
Rosa: Shall I tell you?
Basil: My friends you admire are no intellectual threat
In fairness they try but they have decants
For you to attack them is typically of the she-male shift
Rosa: What? Are you calling me a she-male? Because that's not a word.
Basil: Women like you
You seem to hate men like me
The reason is tricky to see
Since women are such delight-long, spiteful, species
Rosa: Now wait a minute!
Basil: A lady like you
How could she hate men are mass
Which might appear clumsy and strange
Were men not charmed and desired by the heart she unleashes
Such a shame angels by any other name
Should slander and defame the way they do
Rosa: Me?!
Basil: I mean women like you
You underrate men like me
You overstate vile and glee
Your point of view
The simple truth is this for all the world to see
That women like you like challenging men like me
Rosa: But-
Basil: Women like that quite fascinate men like me
Creating quite honestly conditions that Dawson is sure to say there's no cure for
Rosa: Men like that infatuate women like me
And generate genuinely
Emotions that somehow once should be sure to ensure for
Basil: Even though it's just a moment's mood
Rosa: I know I like it even so
Basil/Rosa: So what to do
NO!
Basil: Women like-
Rosa: Men like-
Basil/Rosa: That
Can use me
Basil: Men like-
Rosa: Women like-
Basil/Rosa: Me
Which you can hate
Clearly that we should leave it be
And that is why you see it's tragic but true
Basil: That men like me like-
Rosa: Women like me like-
Basil: Staying well away from-
Rosa: Running in dismay for-
Basil: Women like-
Rosa: Men like-
Basil/Rosa: YOU!
Dawson: (comes out of the kitchen) Basil, the tea's ready! Oh! Am I interrupting something?
Basil: You're not interrupting anything, old man.
Dawson: I could have sworn I heard an argument between you the two of you. Is everything all right?
Basil: Everything's fine, Dawson. (small glare at Rosa) Just fine.
Dawson: Well, shall we go over the facts of the case?
Basil: Yes, of course.
Basil took his seat in the red chair. Dawson sat in a wooden chair next to Rosa, who sat in the green chair.
Basil: Now Miss Spellcove, when I got your letter, you didn't write your name or leave an address. But I knew that you are an artist, judging by the black squid ink you wrote in the letter. Only artists use it. And second, I knew you would be a lady because I smelled a sweet aroma on the letter. Even your handwriting shows that you are a lady. When I read your letter, it didn't tell me much, but I am anxious as to what it is that causes you to consult me.
Rosa: My employer wishes me to be discreet with you. First of all, I should tell you a little of myself. I was born here in London, but I spent the rest of my years in Swiss boarding schools for young girls. When I grew older, I traveled to Paris with my mother to become an artist.
Basil: Who is your mother exactly?
Rosa: She is Lady Claudina Groschili.
Dawson: The famous Italian opera star?
Rosa: That's right. She met my father in England while performing on the opera stage. She retired when she married papa.
Basil: And who is your father?
Rosa: (hesitates) Mr. James Spellcove, a university teacher. Quite an intelligent one and a good father. But sadly, papa lost his job and we had to move to Switzerland. Mama and I lived in the glorious country of Switzerland while papa remained in England to try and find a new business. But we never got word of him for years until….we learned that he was murdered about a month ago. Mama and I moved to London so she could inherit his estate. Then I was approached by Lady Caroline. She offered me ten pounds to paint her portrait.
Basil: I've read about Lady Caroline in the papers. She's a personal friend of the Prime Minister and to our good and gracious Queen.
Rosa: Shortly after it was completed, it was stolen. It was on loan at the Royal Academy.
Basil: And it was your employer Lady Caroline who asked you to contact me.
Rosa: (smirks) How on earth did you guess, Mr. Basil?
Basil: Miss Spellcove, I never guess.
Rosa: So do you think you'll be able to find the portrait?
Basil: When was it stolen?
Rosa: Just yesterday.
Basil: Then we should leave right away to investigate. But first, we must get Toby.
Rosa: Toby?
Dawson: A dog.
Rosa: You have a dog? (chuckles) You must be joking. Mice can't have dogs for pets.
Basil: No, Toby belongs to me neighbor and idol, Sherlock Holmes. I often use him for transportation when the Master in not at home.
Dawson: I should warn you however that Toby might not be easy to get along with. When I first met, him my introduction was far from friendly.
As Basil and Dawson left to go change into their usual coats, a small "Psst" was heard from the open window. Rosa crept towards the window and the face of Fidget the bat appeared from below.
Fidget: That was quite a show you put on with Basil. You two going on about men and women. I thought it was funny. He, he, he, he!
Rosa: It wasn't funny to me. He thinks women are not that smart and not to be trusted. The nerve of that man.
Fidget: But sooner or later, he'll find out that you're not to be trusted either. But what's the deal with the name Spellcove?
Rosa: It's the only name I could come up with, ok! Do you want me to just blurt it out that my name is Rosa Ratigan, the daughter of his worst enemy? It'll ruin everything!
Fidget: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! If you wanna use the name Spellcove, that's good for me. Boss wanted me to check up on you. And you know what to do.
Rosa: Yes. Basil of Baker Street will get what's coming to him, the sooner the better. Then we'll see who's the intelligent one now.
Suddenly, footsteps were heard. Rosa quickly shut the window, crushing Fidget's wing. Fidget screamed in pain, but nothing was heard. Rosa just stood by the window innocently when Dawson walked over.
Dawson: Are you coming, Miss Spellcove?
Rosa: Yes, of course.