December 30: "Basil" (from Wordwielder)

Watson

One evening, in the autumn of 1890, I decided to call on my old friend Sherlock Holmes. I had been very busy with my practice and married life that it had been a while since I'd done so.

When I arrived, it came as no great surprise that he was not there: one never knew what hours he would be away while on a case. Mrs. Hudson informed me that he said he should be back by six, and as it was only ten minutes to that hour, I decided it was certainly worth the wait.

I settled into my old chair by the fire, and sat quietly for a moment. I had only been seated for perhaps a minute when a distant voice caught my ear.

"…ever shall we do, Basil?" it cried.

"Whatever we do, we cannot do it alone, Dawson," another voice replied.

I frowned, and glanced around for the source of the voice. The room appeared empty, apart from me, and yet there was no mistaking the voices. Unless, of course, I was completely out of my wits.

A moment later, I came to the conclusion that I had indeed lost my mind. Two mice were scurrying into the sitting room, from the direction of hall door, on their hind paws, but not their front ones. This was strange enough on its own, but then I realized they were each in full gentlemen's—albeit tiny—attire.

"What do you intend, then?" asked the shorter, more portly of the small rodents to his companion, as the two slowed their run to a swift walk.

"Consult a detective," the taller mouse replied. "I believe that this time, I may be out of my league."

By this time, I wholeheartedly doubted my senses, and the two mice were just two feet from me.

"Who are you?" I asked, feeling rather ridiculous as I said it.

Both mice gave a start.

"Why, Dr. Watson! I did not know you were coming!" exclaimed the taller mouse. "I am Basil of Baker Street, the only consulting detective of Mousdom, and this is my friend and associate Dr. Dawson."

"Pleased to meet you," I said instinctively, though my mind was reeling. "I—I did not know that there were mouse detectives."

"There are, and Basil is the best around," said the mouse called Dawson.

"You said you are called Basil of Baker Street?" I double-checked, frowning at the taller of the mice, who gave a nod. "Where in Baker Street do you live?"

"221 ½," said Dawson. "Just below your flat, in fact."

"I see," I replied. "Does Holmes know you live there?"

"Of course!" Basil replied.

I gave a nod, then heard the slamming of the door to the street, and Holmes's familiar tread upon the stairs. A moment later, my old friend was in the room.

"Watson!" he exclaimed. "I did not know you were coming. I would introduce you to my new neighbours, but it appears you have already become acquainted." He turned to the mice. "Basil, what brings you and Dawson here this evening?"

"A case," said Basil, "of a very serious and dangerous nature, and a criminal that I believe will affect not only Mousedom, but you humans as well."

Holmes seated himself in his chair, and rubbed his hands together. "Pray, tell me more. I would offer you a seat, but we have no furniture built for your stature."

The two mice sat down on the floor between us.

"Tell me," said Basil, "have you ever heard of the ship known as the Matilda Briggs?"

I shook my head, but Holmes nodded. "I believe I have heard of it once."

Basil looked intently back and forth between Holmes and myself. "What about the Giant Rat of Sumatra?"