I have no idea which expression was more priceless, the smug smirk on the mouse's face or the absolute dumbfounded incredulity on Holmes's. My friend spluttered for a moment, trying to comprehend the idea of a rodent who could deduce as well as he.
"Well, Dr. Watson, since Mr. Holmes seems to be at a loss for words, I shall direct my goodbyes to you," he said cordially, "you have – what is it, Dawson?"
I bent down to see the other mouse that he had been with before come hurrying along the baseboard, completely out of breath. Basil had turned to his small companion and was firing rapid questions at him much like Holmes was prone to doing to me.
"We've a client waiting, Basil," the other gasped out, glancing up at me with a nod.
"Ah. Well, I shall take my leave of you gentlemen then. If you'll excuse me –"
"Half a moment," Holmes finally found his voice, "a client? What are you?"
"Mr. Holmes. Humans are not the only species in need of a private consulting detective," the mouse said, grinning at my flustered companion.
"But – "
"It might surprise you to know that I receive my clients in my own flat, as you do."
"Where do you live?" I asked, curious.
Basil replied calmly.
"In your basement."