Ever since the case of the missing tiara – which was the title of the article that reported said case in the newspapers – Emilia had added a new step to the cycle of her life: going to 221-and-a-half, Baker Street and maybe getting English lessons with Basil.
Sometimes, Basil and Dawson were absent, working on a case. Other times, only Dawnson was there and the two of them would have tea together, she got to learn that he was a military doctor and that he had served in Afghanistan! She would've never guessed, looking at him.
Each time she knocked on the detective's door, she would never know who would answer, how her evening would turn out. This uncertainty filled her with excitement.
And when Basil was indeed present and available, she would have the most pleasant time. She was unsure if it was because learning a dance and learning a language were widely different things, but this was nothing like all the classes she's had for the past six years. Basil was very patient, turning the lessons into something interactive and fun. He could be stern at times but never aggressive. With him as a tutor, she's made a lot of progress and could speak with more ease than before, all this in just a couple of weeks.
She hasn't told Dunkan about this.
"Why not?" asked Basil when she mentioned it.
"He cares just about my dancing career." she explained. "He won't care what I do outside of that, as long as it doesn't change my work."
And indeed it did not! She still had that dull expression as she performed those intricate dance routines. And life went on...
"I see auditions for Giselle have started." Dawson said, reading the newspapers after Basil gave Emilia her first writing exercise (writing the alphabet).
"Oh yes." she nodded.
"Have you auditioned yet, Miss?"
"I don't audition for roles."
"R-Really?"
"I used to, when I first started." she looked up at the ceiling. "But now, Dunkan just gives me the role."
"Are you hoping to get a specific role?" Dawson asked.
"No. I don't care what I play. But knowing Dunkan, he'll give me the biggest role."
"How convenient," Basil said, bringing her attention back to the exercise. "to have the casting director in your pocket!"
"In my pocket...?" she mumbled.
"When someone is under your influence," Dawson explained. "in your case, Basil is saying that you could easily use it to your advantage."
"Oh no. Non non." she looked at him and shook her head. "I really don't care. As long as I get work."
"How noble of you, my dear." Basil said. "Now if you please..." he gestured to her worksheet.
She quickly got back to it. Despite concentrating – or was it because she was concentrating too hard? – her handwriting turned out to be a mess.
"It's..." Basil looked at it.
"Terrible?" she tilted her head, her eyebrows furrowed.
"Readable, and that's all anyone can ask for." he nodded. "For a first try, this is very well done."
She smiled and watched as he put the paper aside.
"Um..." she spoke, making her look at her. "Can I take it with me? To train more."
"Why, of course!" he handed it back to her. "Actually, before you leave." he raised a finger, his eyes darting across the living room. "Uuuum puhpuhpuhpuh- Ah-ha!" he rushed to a bookshelf and handed a book to her. "Here. I would use this when I started learning French."
"And you kept it?" she asked as she approached him to take the book.
"Throw away a book?!" he scoffed.
"This is for kids." she showed him the colorful front page. "Even I can tell."
"What better way to learn a language from the ground up?!" he raised his hands in the air.
Her and Dawson shared a glance.
"Don't get complicit now!" he pointed at the two of them. "Only one of us here can speak over eight languages!"
Emilia chuckled. She came to find that Basil could easily get worked up if one wasn't buttering him up. She found that quite charming with how childish it was.
Since she was residing in an English-speaking country, she asked to learn how to read and write in English first before French. Once she got a hang of syllables, Basil advised her to try and read anything her eyes fall on, be it a coffee brand, or a street sign. And so, on her way back to the ballet school, she'd stop at every street corner to try and read the signs. Because of that, she was a lot slower, the sun began to set and London was getting dark.
"S,T...?" this last one truly stumped her. "What?"
She stared at the sign, her eyes squinted. The other words looked much easier to read, but she didn't want to skip a step. Just then, she noticed something in the corner of her eyes that made her lean to the side. The street was dark and there was a faint fog in the air, so she could only make out a silhouette exiting a house by a second floor window and climbing down. Once they've reached the ground, they adjusted a large bag on their shoulder.
Emilia gasped, a burglar!
Without thinking, she dashed towards them. They heard her fast footsteps and turned around. They shrieked and ran away.
"Hey!" she shouted.
There was a small alleyway which had been blocked by human-sized wooden planks. The burglar pushed one up – there were no nails on the bottom right – and slipped through. Emilia tried to get to them, but she was too tall, and they were already gone.
"Merde!" she hit the planks.*
She hurried back to the house the burglar came from. She knocked on the door... But there wasn't anyone. She sighed, and went to look for a police officer.
Dunkan's words made her freeze. She felt a tightness in her stomach.
"...Tomorrow." she whispered to herself as she continued on.
The next day, the first thing she did when she came to work was to go to Dunkan.
"Emilia, my dear! I was just about to announce the roles for Giselle!"
"Can I talk to you in private?" she asked quietly.
"Of course! After the announcement."
"It's urgent."
He raised an eyebrow, but then smiled again.
"As soon as I'm done." he patted her head. "You can even wait in my office if you're impatient."
"N-No, it's okay." she said without thinking, shaking her head.
When he was done with giving out the roles – she was the main character, of course – he and Emilia went to his office where she told him what she saw last night. He nodded along, humming from time to time.
"Well dear, first of all." he said as soon as she was done. "Thank you for coming to me first. If you had reported what happened to a policeman, you would've been held for questioning and probably stayed there the whole night!" he laughed. "But, you really shouldn't have gone after that crooked man, what if you had gotten hurt?" he cupped her face in his hands, his eyebrows furrowed. "You're lucky he escaped and your pretty little face is intact. If anything were to happen to you..." he sniffed. "I-I don't want to even think about it!" he turned around, covering his mouth.
"I'm...sorry." she looked down. "Could you alert the police?"
"Aw but dear..." he slowly turned back around with an awkward look. "If no one was at the house, that must mean they were out to dinner. Therefore, by now, they've realized what happened and have reported it to the authorities themselves."
"But I saw the burgal- Bur- Bu-" she pursed her lips with a frown, embarrassed.
"You saw a burglar burglarizing, dear, that isn't going to help much." he patted her shoulder. "I think you better get this dreadful evening out of your head, you don't have to worry about that anymore." he patted her head as he walked past her. "Focus on the rehearsal instead! We only have twelve weeks to prepare after all!"
She breathed a heavy sigh and followed him out of the room. The rest of the day went on smoothly, if not for that tightness lingering in her stomach.
The next morning, just like every morning, Emilia was one of the first 'students' to go to the cafeteria for breakfast. The cook wordlessly handed her her trail and sat in a corner to read the newspapers. Emilia's eyes widened when she saw a picture of Basil on the front page, along with another picture, this time of a young girl. She quickly put down her trail on the nearest table and went back to the counter.
"Excuse me?"
The cook looked at her, surprised, as if she didn't know the lady could even speak.
"Could you read the front for me?" she pointed at the pictures.
The cook looked at the article, then at her.
"O...kay?" she slowly said before reading.
The article talked about the kidnapping of a young girl, Wendy Beazley, whose parents have yet to receive any notes for ransom even after three days. So they called the Great Mouse Detective yesterday and he was to come to Saint Margarette Street today to look over the crime scene.
That name caught Emilia's attention. Margarette Street?
"Saint...?" she gasped. "Saint! S, T!"
"Y-Yeah?" the cook looked at her like she was crazy.
"Oh, uh, thank you lots." she bowed her head before going to have breakfast.
The cook watched as the young woman quickly ate and ran out of the cafeteria, then out of the school soon after.
As she reached St Margarette Street, she spotted Basil and Dawson, their backs to her.
"Detective!" she picked up the pace.
Said detective spun around, looking at her with big eyes.
"Miss Redfield!" Dawson exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. "Good morni-"
"J'étais là!" she exclaimed as soon as she was in front of them.
"What?" Basil frowned, confused.
"Avant hier quand la maison s'est fait cambrioler j'ai vu le cambrioleur!" she said rapidly. "Il est descendu par cette fenêtre!" she pointed at a window of the house where the burglary happened. "J'ai de suite compris c'qui s'est passé du coup j'ai-" **
"Miss Redfield!" Basil said sharply.
She froze, her lips pursed. He breathed a small sigh.
"I understand you want to help in this investigation, and I appreciate it." he said, his hands joined together, with his indexes pointing at her. "However, when you talk French at such speed, it is difficult for me to understand."
"Oh!" her eyes widened, only now realized what language she's used. "I'm sorry..."
"No, I'm sorry for my lack of comprehension." he bowed his head. "Now, I did hear something about you witnessing the burglary first hand." he leaned a little closer with a raised eyebrow.
Dawson gasped. Emilia nodded and explained everything that happened. Basil then translated for Dawson.
"Miss Redfield, you went after them?!" Dawson asked, shocked.
"Yes." she nodded.
"Wh-Why?"
"Because...he was there?" she tilted her head, not understanding the question.
"No, I mean… A dainty young woman like yourself..."
'Dainty?'
Basil chuckled.
"The thrill of the chase, dear Dawson, the call to adventure!" he raised a fist in the air. "Universal, I tell you! Now." he placed his hands on Emilia's shoulders. "Describe that burglar to me, down to the slightest of detail."
"Uh..." she looked up. "He was-"
"Close your eyes, close 'em close 'em." he said, waving a hand up and down. "The mental picture will be much clearer."
She closed her eyes. She said very few things about the individual she saw and was a little afraid to open her eyes.
'A quoi bon être venu en fait...?' she asked herself. ***
"That's it..." she opened them. "I'm sor-"
She stopped herself when she saw the big smile on Basil's face while Dawson was frantically taking notes.
"We are getting a picture of the perpetrator before even stepping into the house!" the detective laughed. "Oh my dear, what a gift you've given us!" he bowed.
"Really?" she asked, her eyes big.
Basil hummed, looking around.
"Where did they run off to?"
She led them to the alleyway. Basil inspected the hole the burglar squeezed through.
"Very small, indeed." he mumbled. "And nimble."
"And you didn't alert the policemice?" Dawson asked her.
"Oh, I-I couldn't find any." she said without thinking, shaking her head and shrugging. "And then I thought that it was too late, he ran away."
Before Dawson could disagree, Basil swiftly climbed the wall of the alleyway and jumped through another, larger hole in the plank. Emilia and Dawson watched in awe before they looked at him through the hole.
"Finding anything useful?" Dawson asked.
"Mmh..." he crouched and looked at the stone tiles with a magnifying glass, then he gasped. "Oooo, interestiiiing." he said with a big smile.
"What is it?" Emilia asked.
"Make way, dear fellows!"
Her and Dawson stepped back so that Basil jumped over again, landing effortlessly on his feet.
"Wow." Emilia said under her breath.
Basil chuckled and puffed up his chest.
"Why don't we make our way to the Beazley house now?" he dusted off his coat. "I believe we've kept the poor parents waiting long enough."
Without waiting for an answer, he left.
"Come along, you two."
"M-Me?" Emilia placed a hand on her chest.
"Why, you've kicked off this investigation into high gear already." he looked back at her. "Don't you want to see how it resolves?" he asked with a cheeky grin. "This could be highly educational as well."
"Educational?"
"What better way to get the hang of detective lingo?! Come on!" he gestured them to follow him.
"You really are under no obligation to stay, Miss." Dawson whispered to her as they walked up the street, to the house. "If you'd rather leave, you can very well do so." he smiled. "You must be very busy anyway."
Was she, she wondered. She's performed Giselle before, she knew the routine by heart. Skipping one day of practice won't hurt – especially if it's to help with a kidnapping case! – rehearsals only start next week anyway.
And besides, Basil was right. She could feel her heart beating with excitement at the idea of being involved in another case.
"It's okay, Doctor." she bowed her head. "I'm happy to stay."
Detecting a smile decorating her words, Basil glanced back at her for a brief moment.
Mrs. Beazly was quick to open the door. She looked as if she'd been crying.
"Oh Basil of Baker Street, thank the Heavens! Come in, come in!" she stepped to the side.
"You are most kind, Madam." he tilted his cap before stepping in, followed by his two assistants.
"Dr Dawson, hello." she quickly curtsied, then gasped when she saw Emilia. "Is that...? Are you...?"
Emilia braised herself for whatever reaction was coming next. Be it the glee of a fan, or offense that a ballerina was present in a crime scene, both of these outcomes involved screaming.
"Miss Emilia Redfield herself, yes." Basil spoke before Mrs. Beazley could say anything. "Undisputed prima ballerina of the Royal Opera House, applauded by the Queen herself-"
'Ah ouai?!' she frowned for a brief moment. ****
Despite him listing off her credentials, his tone was rather casual. As if he silently asked to not make a big deal out of it. This was highly unusual for Emilia, but she didn't mind at all. If anything, this was a breath of fresh air.
"And a key witness of the crime!" he finished.
Mrs. Beazley gasped.
"But more on that later." he cleared his throat. "Where is Mr-?"
"Detective!"
They all looked over to see Mr. Beazley coming downstairs to join them. Not a thing was out of place – much like his wife actually – from his suit to his hair. All except for his sunken eyes. Although, at this moment, what was most notable was the fact that he was clearly cross.
"You're late!"
"Now now, Mr. Beazley, it's quite alright." Basil smiled.
"I do not care if you're with a celebrity, or even with the Queen herself, you better find my daughter, or else!"
He spoke with such fatherly authority that Emilia was ready to go to bed without dinner and Dawson stiffened his posture, saluting him with a loud 'Yes Sir'.
"All in good time, old fellow." Basil patted his shoulder, which seemed to offend the man. "First and foremost, I have a few questions I'd like to ask the both of you."
Mrs. Beazley led everyone to the living room. Basil sat between Emilia and Dawson on the couch opposite of two armchairs. After serving everyone cheese biscuits – Emilia politely and silently declined to keep up with her diet – Mrs. Beazley sat on one of the chairs while her husband stood by her side.
"You said that your daughter was taken three days ago," said Basil, leaning back in his seat. "and during that time, you simply...waited for a ransom note to show up, correct?"
That slight pause ticked off Mr. Beazley. Just as Basil intended.
"If it were up to me, I would've sent out a rescue team to go over the entire city with a fine tooth comb!"
"Darling..." Mrs. Beazley held his hand.
"It's those incompetent policemice." he huffed. "They told us to wait for a note."
"You could've still contacted me." Basil said.
"Well you're here now , so it matters very little!"
Emilia and Dawson shared a glance.
"Mmh." the detective glanced to the side."Wouldn't be the first time the fine constables of London..." he mumbled, Emilia could only make out that first half.
He seemed deep in thought for a moment before shaking his head, bringing himself back from reality.
"Tell me about this daughter of yours." he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his lap. "More specifically, in the week prior to her disappearance."
Mr. Beazley huffed again.
"Wendy... I don't know what's going on in her head anymore!"
"She used to be such a sweetheart." Mrs. Beazley explained upon seeing the confusion on Emilia's and Dawson's faces. "But when she turned fourteen, she suddenly changed."
"Because now she spends all her time crafting rather than being an adult!"
"Crafting?" Basil raised an eyebrow. "What kind?"
"Ragdolls." the woman answered. "It's been a pastime of hers for years-"
"Which is fine, I don't mind hobbies." her husband interjected. "Quite the contrary! I myself collect stamps in my free time. But at the end of the day, one must come back down to Earth and do more important things. Working for me, studying for Wendy."
"Studying?" Dawson asked. "For what?"
"To be a proper Lady of course!"
"O-Of course." he nodded.
"So, aside from this rebellious phase of hers," Basil brought everyone back on topic. "nothing unusual."
"Nothing."
He glanced at the Lady of the house and noticed the slightest flex of her hand.
"Mrs. Beazley? Anything coming to mind?"
She became tense.
"I told you." her husband spoke in her stead. "Nothing that could relate to the kidnapping of our child. Why don't you focus on that instead?"
"Of course, of course." Basil nodded, waving a hand. "Worry not, Mr. and Mrs. Beazley. We will find and retrieve your daught-"
"No. That'd be far too risky."
"I beg your pardon?" he blinked twice.
"No way in hell am I going to risk Wendy's safety! Find whoever took her and tell them that we are willing to give them whatever they want in exchange for our child back."
"Mmh. Very well, sir." Basil stood up. "As per your request as a client, I shall do as you ask. Oh, just one more question." he paused. "Do you know of the burglary that happened in this very house?"
"What?!" they both exclaimed.
Their reaction shocked Emilia and Dawson, Basil however smiled.
"Just as I thought." he said under his breath.
"That explains why you've made no mention of it so far." Dawson said, perplexed. "I say, I did find it strange."
"Wh-What are you talking about?!" Mr. Beazley walked closer to the detective. "Why are we talking about a burglary all of a sudden?! Nothing was stolen!"
"Well, Miss Redfield here-" he gestured towards her, hearing her own name all of a sudden caught her by surprise. "has witnessed someone exiting your home two days ago in the evening. She told me she knocked on your door, but neither of you appeared to be home. My real question is, where were you?"
"We were at a party event for Goerge's work." Mrs. Beazley explained. "It was out of the city, we had to book a hotel room."
"I brought my wife along as my plus one." her husband continued. "I could not stand leaving her alone in the house."
"And I simply had to come to support him. Goerge is in a rather complex step in his career-"
"Darling." he held her hand. "The good detective doesn't need to know these things." he cleared his throat and looked back at Basil. "So we've suffered a kidnapping and a robbery. Will I have to pay extra for both cases?"
"Nooo no no no!" Basil waved a hand. "For I have on good authority that these two crimes are intricately related to one another!"
There was a moment of stunned silence.
"...Um, Goerge?" Mrs. Beazley looked at him. "Isn't it about time you leave for work?"
"Not for another thirty minut- Ah." his eyes widened and he looked at the clock. "Y-Yes, I-" he cleared his throat. "I must go." he went to grab his coat and hat. "Mark my word, detective," he pointed at Basil with a glare. "if no progress was made by the time I come back..."
"Have a good day at the bank, Mr. Beazley."
"Huh?" his expression fell. "How did you...?"
Basil just smiled. Goerge huffed and shook his head as he approached his wife and kissed the top of her head.
"Good day, darling. As soon as the detective leaves, please go to the Bradly's next door."
"Good luck, Goerge." she smiled softly.
"Gentlemen. Miss Redfield." he bowed his head. "My uh... My wife is a big fan." he whispered to her.
"Thank you." she nodded with a smile.
The couple looked surprised by her French accent, but didn't comment on it.
"Now!" Basil clapped his hands and rubbed them together as soon as Mr. Beazley had left. "It's about time we take a look at the crime scene!"
Mrs. Beazley looked upset at the words 'crime scene'. It did entail that something far worse has happened. She took them upstairs, to Wendy's bedroom, where she was last seen.
"I'll leave you to it, then. " she said after pointing out which door in the hallway was Wendy's. "Apologies for not accompanying you all the way. Looking at this room... You understand."
"Of course, Madam." Dawson nodded. "Thank you."
"You haven't touched that room since the kidnapping?" Basil asked.
"Neither has my husband." she shook her head. "Only to lock the window."
"I see. Thank you, Mrs. Beazley." he bowed his head.
"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call."
"And if you remember anything, shout and we will come running!" he smiled.
The trio entered the bedroom – the lady was first to come in of course, though Basil had almost forgotten his manners and actually had to quickly step back out to then let her in first – It was rather small, the bed was unmade, other than that, it looked particularly clean.
"One could hardly guess a kidnapping occurred here." Dawson said, looking around.
"Precisely." Basil went to stand in the middle of the room, he spoke again before anyone could ask what he meant. "Dawson, Miss Redfield, what do you make of all of this?"
The two assistants looked at each-other, then at Basil.
"Well," Dawson spoke. "Mrs. Beazley mentioned something about closing the window, meaning it was open when Wendy was kidnapped. It must've been how the culprit entered the room."
"That is a painfully obvious detail, doctor." he waved a hand in a dismissive manner. "Use your perception! Miss Redfield?" he turned towards her.
"Um... Uh... The lock?" she pointed at the door. "It's broken. Maybe the parents uh... broke it the morning after she was kidnapped."
"Even worse." he pointed at her.
She frowned with a pout.
"Come on, friends, look around you!" he spun around with his arms open. "Does this look like the room of a child?!"
"Ah yes. Now that you mention it..." Dawson looked around. "It is strange. I see no toys here."
"None!"
"...She's fourteen." Emilia shrugged. "Her dad said she's an adult."
"Yes, he did say that." Dawson nodded. "But... How do I explain it?" he mumbled to himself.
"Miss Redfield." Basil said. "Here is a lexicon exercise for you: Could you please list off the items in this bedroom?"
"Um, bed. Drawers... Armory?"
"Wardrobe." he whispered.
"Wardrobe. Desk. Door, window." she shrugged.
"And you don't find anything unusual about this list?" he raised an eyebrow.
She frowned, confused. Dawson looked concerned by her reaction.
"Where are all the memories?!" Basil exclaimed as he walked around the room with big steps. "Small mementos, decorations! One's bedroom – one's home! – is an extension of oneself! And for a child, their bedroom is their only personal space in the house! As a Great Detective, I should be able to look at a bedroom and tell you exactly what kind of person occupies it! Yet I see nothing here – only the height and weight of the child, based on the size of the bed and the indent in the mattress – this bedroom only has the barest of necessities."
Emilia pursed her lips. She supposed he had a point.
"And then there's the window." he turned towards it.
"What about it?" Dawson asked.
"Think, Dawson. It was closed and locked when Mr. and Mrs. Beazley found out that their daughter was missing, and they haven't stepped foot in this room ever since then." he went up to it. "If that is the case, then how did our burglar make his way in?"
"Why, he forced it open, obviously."
"There are no signs of forceful entry." he opened the window and examined the windowsill with narrowed eyes. "No scratches, and the lock is intact. Meaning they locked it on their way out as well."
"Maybe they... Uh..." Emilia thought for a moment, looking for the right word. "Crocheter une serrure?" she looked at Basil.
"To pick open a lock." he gave her the translation.
"Maybe they did that."
"To pick a lock, one must use both of their hands." he looked out at the front of the house. "And based on the climbing our thief would've had to partake in to get to the window, they would need a constant hold."
"Then how?" Dawson asked.
"I have a theory, but I must test it out."
He then began to leave through the window. Emilia and Dawson started to panic.
"Don't worry, dear fellows." he smiled at them, sitting on the windowsill with his feet dangling above nothing. "Even if I do fall, I won't die from it." he looked down. "A broken tibia and a fractured rib at worst."
"That is deeply concerning! But," Dawson sighed. "I know there is no stopping you."
"That's the spirit, old friend! I'll try to open the window from the outside. The two of you, keep looking around. Children always find a way to hide their belongings from their parents." he said as he fully exited the room and grabbed a hold of the gutter pipe outside. "Um, could one of you please lock the window?"
Being the closest, Emilia did that. He thanked her, his voice muffled by the glass between them, and started to pat around the windowsill.
"Well, Miss." Dawson sighed. "Let's get to it."
As the two of them looked through every nook and cranny of the room, Emilia would glance at Basil from time to time. He was really focused on his theory. After around five minutes, he started to get frustrated, and his arm and legs were getting sore. He glanced inside the room. Emilia and Dawson were avoiding eye contact so as to not embarrass him.
"Should I open?" she quietly asked.
"Don't, you'll just hurt his feelings." he whispered.
Basil cleared his throat and began to climb down. They glanced back, then at each-other. They did their very best not to laugh, snorting and wheezing. And when they heard knocking on the front door, Dawson covered his face while Emilia hit him multiple times.
"Ah putain..." she wiped tears away from her eyes.*****
Meanwhile, Mrs. Beazley carefully opened the door a crack, then wide open when she saw the detective.
"Mr. Basil?! How-?"
"Thank you Ma'am." he said as he walked past her and up the stairs. "Progress is being made, I assure you."
As he made his way through the hallway, he could hear his two friends' poorly hidden laughter. Basil groaned and quickly opened the door. The two mice quickly shut up, looking anywhere but at him, Dawson whistling and Emilia humming a tune while tapping her foot. Basil cleared his throat and adjusted his tie.
"Second try." he went to the window, unlocked it and stepped out again. "Miss Redfield?"
"Are you sure?"
"Certain."
"Alright." she shrugged and locked the window behind him.
This time, Basil was more frantic, but after a while, he took a deep breath and concentrated. Finally, the window opened with a click.
"Ah-haaa!" Basil laughed as he jumped into the room. "I knew it!" he laughed some more as he saw the shocked expression on his assistants' faces.
"How did you do it, Basil?" Dawson asked.
"Simple, doctor! There's a trick to it. A small, hidden dent that allowed me to unlock the window from the outside! Very intricate and more suited for someone with smaller hands. It took me a while to figure it out, which means-!" he stopped himself when he saw the hidden compartment on the floor. "What's this now?"
"We found it while you were outside." Emilia said.
"Miss Redfield did, really." Dawson gestured towards her.
"Aaaah!" he said in delight. "Under the carpet I see, how did you find it?"
"All the planks were warm, that one was cold." she pointed at the floorboard they removed from the floor.
"Ah yes, the heater's pipes must be going under the floor."
"But it's empty." Dawson said. "Maybe the burglar took its content."
"...Money?" Emilia tilted her head.
"Maybe not something so trivial." Basil crouched and looked inside with his magnifying glass.
Inside the compartment, he found a small piece of fabric, he took it out and examined it closely.
"Cotton." he said. "With a sewing thread coming out of it. Must be from one of the girl's ragdolls." he looked down at the compartment. "This must be where she hid her creations."
"You think... You think the burglar took the dolls?" Dawson asked, confused.
"The crafting tools and materials, most likely."
"Why would they do that?"
"Isn't it painfully obvious by now, Dawson? The trick to unlock the window from the outside, it took quite a while for me to figure it out, any burglar would've given up a long time ago. It could only be done with ease by someone who knows about it beforehand! Add to it the overbearing parents, no sign of struggle throughout the room – surely if you're being kidnapped, you'd scream, grab a hold of anything within reach – And the fact that they entered the house the exact night the parents would be absent, as if our mysterious friend knew of the parent's schedules."
Emilia gasped.
"The child?!"
Basil giggled.
"This is no kidnapping!" he harshly whispered, containing himself. "This is simply a runaway child!"
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! :D
Translations!
* 'Dammit!'
** "I was there!"
"Two days ago when the house was broken into I saw the burglar! He went down that window! I immediately knew what had happened and so I-"
*** 'What was the point of coming here…?'
**** 'Really?!'
***** "Ah god dammit..."