A/N- Hello everyone! Here's chapter four, and I had a lot of fun working on this, and I hope you enjoy it! Now, there seemed to have been a glitch when I posted for this fanfic last time, and if it ends up doing it again for this chapter, there's not much I can do, but wait for the staff on this website to resolve the issue. I do apologize, though, if you end up getting a glitch, but you can reload it to see if it works so you can read the chapter you desire, lol. With that said, enjoy this chapter, and I shall see you all soon!

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STG96: True that XD

Happy birthday, Olivia! May all your birthday wishes come true!

— Olivia's birthday card from Erin and Hiram

~ I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII ~

Chapter IV: Birthday Party Crasher

Clop, clop, clop.

The sound of hooves striking the ground and carriage wheels trundling reverberated in Erin's bones. She sat silently, her body occasionally lurching in different directions from the bumpy roads. Even all that did nothing to snap her out of her reverie. She felt as hollow as a log, and throughout the ride, she forced herself to stave off the tears by balling her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms, and biting her bottom lip while her eyes were firmly shut. Now was not the time for them, and she refused for anyone to see her this vulnerable.

At one point, the carriage rolled to a stop, and Erin plucked up her handbag, plopped down from the foot pedestal, and continued on foot in an aimless direction. Zoning out, the world around her ceased to exist while she mechanically took one step at a time with the rhythm of her pulse. Discourteous thoughts took flight and buzzed like hornets, her head the hive. Nothing was going right, and things just kept on scorching. What was Erin to do just to keep the balance scale of her life in harmony? Shatter the bones in her legs? Things couldn't possibly get any worse.

Bong!

Erin blinked, ears perking up as she directed her attention to Big Ben. It was eleven o'clock, indicated by the next set of bongs fracturing the air. A weighted sigh spilled out of Erin. She had plenty of hours to kill before having to make her way back to the toyshop, but what exactly could she do?

Taking a right onto the next street, a sense of familiarity tugged at her chest as she absorbed her surroundings. It suddenly occurred to her why that was as she found herself near an alleyway… The same one where her father's body was discovered. Her stomach bottomed out, her throat constricting as memories flashed through her mind's eye. What a coincidence, unless fate had intended this.

Erin judiciously looked left and right a few times. Coincidence or not, if she was to solve her father's case, why not return to where it all happened? Perhaps she overlooked something that night. Steeling herself, Erin entered the alleyway, her grip secure on her handbag. Whether it would destroy her or not, she had to do this for her father.

Her heart hammered against her ribcage the further she went in, and soon she arrived at the spot that had been calling to her—needing her attention. Her fingers involuntarily tightened around the strap of her handbag. If it weren't for the fact this was where her father was killed, she wouldn't have thought much of it. Such a memory was not one to ever forget, and it was as if a worm was wiggling in her brain, rattling her nervous system.

The dark gray mouse heaved in a quiet breath to quell her nerves. She stuffed the events of that night into a box and shoved them into the furthest recesses of her mind. Being calm and collected were the friends she needed to solve this case. Nothing would do her good if she allowed those memories to dictate her emotions like a puppet. The case needed to be solved, and the only way she would get anywhere further with it was by decluttering the thoughts taking root.

Centering her mind and blotting out her thoughts, Erin's honey-brown irises narrowed in scrutiny, gleaning the alleyway. The mathematical equations came forth, coming and evanescing in the forefront of her mind with each direction she turned her head. She hummed in thought. While she couldn't work with her father's body at this time and moment, there were always her honed memories, and it was better to work with what she had than have nothing and mainly flounder.

Erin shut her eyes, attentively dissecting that night's memories and having her other senses play a significant role. She could just recall it all: the taut atmosphere, the heavy amount of blood, the metallic scent along with death… all of it. If she hadn't been dead set on solving her father's case, Erin would've wanted nothing more than to lock it all away and never have them see the day of light again. Solving this murder case was too important, and she'd only be selfish in the end if she didn't give it any attention.

There was a miniscule detail she remembered vividly, but had thought at first that her sense of smell was deceiving her through her shock and grief. Perhaps it did, or maybe she did pick up on it: alcohol.

Trying to picture her father's point of view, Erin acted out how each scenario she deduced could've been possible in the alleyway, all the while considering how the murderer went about it in a carefully crafted, sickening manner. All the while she did, she muttered different mathematical equations. She imagined her father feeling the force of a push, being slammed against a wall, cold steel against flesh, all the possible things she had herself do of her own volition—except the slicing part—that any of the main suspects could have done to him.

Eventually, Erin surfaced from the flood of her thoughts and wild evaluations, breathing in and out slightly. There was no doubt about it now. Her father's murder had been orchestrated. What other explanation was there? What was left on Tomás Ravencroft was one of the clues that drew her to that conclusion, and from the way the murderer had killed him, they spoke the truth. There was no hesitation, only intent. Someone hesitant would've made the stab marks and slit throat uneven and jagged, but they were perfect and true. What drove them to the motivation of murdering her father, though?

Erin hummed in thought, musing. Did her father get into a quarrel with someone? Was the killer not alone? …Had Tomás Ravencroft actually been imbibing alcohol that night? She couldn't grasp the idea of her father drinking while on the job; that was just unethical, even for him. Doubt slowly began pricking at her nape. But what if he did? Erin swallowed silently, her saliva feeling hot against her throat. If he did, that would mean it was probable that his drink was laced with drugs by the murderer themselves.

A sick feeling came over Erin. Great Scott… she thought with dread.

"Ello, bird, what's a pretty thing like you doing here all by herself?" A slimy voice oozed.

A chill crawled down her spine. Erin turned, her eyes settling on a trio of male mice swarming out from the deepest part of the alleyway, and they exuded trouble. They were clad in dirty garments, their mouths curving into greasy smiles as they slowly formed a circle around her like vultures, eyeing their prey in a leering manner.

Back as ramrod straight as a soldier would, Erin steadied herself with an indifferent demeanor, quietly assessing these bucks.

"Aww, don't be shy," the same mouse spoke when Erin didn't utter a word, goading her. It appeared he was the ringleader, and she could practically feel the authority radiating from him. "There's no reason why this has to be complicated. How about you be a good, obedient bird, and we get a little taste of you? Then we'll go our separate ways."

Disgust curled in her stomach. Suffice it to say, Erin nonchalantly took a few steps toward the ringleader, reining in her tirade of emotions. She glanced toward the ground briefly before her eyes collided with the latter's, not once blinking. "Just a taste?" she questioned in an even tone.

The ringleader's eyes gleamed with triumph and smugness as that smile of his was still in place. "Just a–"

Cutting off his sentence, Erin smashed her foot to his face after gluing her other foot firmly to the ground and drew back her leg, sending him crashing to the ground. Silence ensued. The other two louts' grins wiped off their faces, eyes rounded.

The ringleader groaned, and when he sat halfway up, a boot print was easy enough to make out on his face.

Erin showed no remorse.

Snarling, the ringleader climbed to his feet and produced a pocket knife from, well, his pocket. "YOU LITTLE…!" Having no good insult to throw at Erin, he barreled toward her, weapon raised.

The mathematics gears immediately cranked up, writing out an equation as her opponent swiped his weapon in a vertical line. Erin swung her handbag in a rainbow arc, knocking out the pocket knife from the ringleader's possession that was loose in his grip, and as fast as she did that, she launched her foot into his jewels. Emitting an inaudible scream, the ringleader's knees buckled, hands over the tender area.

Erin did not get the chance to relax, for the ringleader's goons came storming at her. However, with the mathematics in mind, ready to supply more equations for her defense, she was prepared to hold her own for however long it took. She evaded the next lout's punch by ducking, powering up her leg, and then rammed her foot into his hip, having him lose his footing. The third lout swung his fists at her, but each time he did, she danced around them, and on the fourth swing, Erin pummeled him in the face, jamming her knee into his abdomen when she anchored her fingers into his shoulders.

A pair of arms circled her arms and midsection in an iron hold, and it was none other than the ringleader himself. She writhed against him but then noticed the second lout coming at her, aiming to clock her in the face. Erin pushed herself off the ground while still struggling against the ringleader and shot her legs out, pushing the second thug to a wall. Coming back down, she then stamped her foot on top of the ringleader's, and he let out a grunt, inadvertently loosening his arms around her. Seeing her window of opportunity, Erin elbowed the latter in the face, snatching his hand and throwing him over her shoulder.

In sync, the ringleader's goons again charged at her, fists at the ready. Erin waited with steady breaths that were in rhythm with her pulse, and then at the perfect second, she ducked, and her adversaries ended up slugging each other in the face, crumpling to the ground. Two down, one left to go.

The ringleader was attempting to retrieve his pocket knife by crawling over to it, but Erin beat him to it by connecting her foot to it, having it skid away. He didn't even get the chance to blink as the dark gray mouse socked him in the face, knocking him out cold. Silence permeated the air, save for the two thugs groaning in pain on the ground.

Erin dusted off the skirt of her frock, then dropped her gaze back onto the trio with disgust and disapproval. To think they were trying to have her for dessert, but that would not be happening today or any other day. When you had a father that lived and survived out on the shaddy streets of Ireland as a lad, it was natural he passed down to his child what he learned to defend himself. Erin internally thanked her father for his years of teaching so she would be safe, and without those lessons, who knew what would've happened on this day. With her being and acting like a lady—an advantage in its way—no one would've expected her to fight back like she did just now.

Turning on her heels, Erin picked her way out of the alleyway, leaving behind a humiliated trio of hoodlums who had their tails handed to them, never looking back.

Erin still had more time to spare, and for the rest of the evening, she took a stroll at the park and then went to the library to exercise her brain with a couple of tomes based on mathematics as if the fight in the alleyway had never happened. She could hardly focus on reading with her mind elsewhere and didn't absorb anything from the said tomes, but that was okay since mathematics was as simple to her as counting on her fingers and toes. It wasn't like her brain would turn to mush if she didn't memorize all the text by heart.

Soon, it was time for Erin to head back to the toyshop, and upon her return, Hiram was there to greet her. She did not spill a word of her encounter with the thugs, for it would only cause her boss immediate concern, and she would dare not put that kind of weight on his shoulders. He then inquired if her mother would be joining them later on, and Erin lied through her teeth that Nancy was feeling under the weather and would not be able to. She did not mentally feel like elucidating what had happened and why her mother would not actually be present. Thankfully, Hiram didn't probe, but she thought she glimpsed brief disappointment crossing his features.

As promised, her boss had taken care of everything she would have typically done, including getting everything ready and organized for Olivia's birthday, and all that was left to do was to pick her up from school. Erin did just that, if only to do something that seemed like she had lifted a finger for her job, and upon their return to the toyshop, Olivia was met with a display meant just for her surprise birthday. There was a birthday banner, her favorite meal, brinner, a strawberry cake slathered in chocolate buttercream frosting and dotted with piped flowers, and of course, gifts. Olivia gasped with amazement, her irises twinkling with excitement. She thanked her father and nanny immensely, glomping them. Thus, the celebration began with music and singing swelling the air, merry dancing, gorging on dinner and dessert, and Olivia opening her presents.

Day soon bled into night, and the fervid celebration soon died down to a comfortable silence in the toyshop. Though Erin wouldn't admit it out loud, this was precisely what she needed on this night: a distraction from everything happening in her life. It was nice for the first time in a long while that she could just let go of her thoughts, worries, and responsibilities—if only for a little while—and give in to the fun. Did that make her selfish? Her father once encouraged her to focus on herself and ignore the world once in a while, and in that moment, that was what she did, and Hiram and Olivia were with her by her side.

Erin volunteered to clean up, and as she did, Olivia was playing with a toy rocking horse at the tinker table, content with how her birthday turned out to be. Erin swept the floor with a broom while Hiram fixed his apron, and it was then that Olivia spoke up. "You know? This is my very best birthday!" She said with zest.

Pausing the motions of sweeping, a small smile found its way onto Erin's lips. "I'm happy you had a wonderful time, Olivia."

"Ah, but um, there's one last present left," Hiram confessed with a hint of mischief.

At that, Erin's brow shot up. "Whatever do you mean, Hiram? Wasn't that all the gifts we got her?"

"Ah–ah"—he wagged his finger at Erin—"not all of them, and this one is very special."

Olivia suddenly shot up from her seat at her father's words. "What is it? What is it?" she burst with excitement.

A chuckle escaped Hiram. "Now, now, close your eyes."

His daughter obeyed, and as soon as she did, Hiram sent Erin a wink her way and stalked to the cupboard. Erin observed as he was about to pull something out. However, at the corner of her vision, Olivia risked a peek, only for her father to quickly catch on to the act.

"Ah–ah–ah–ah," Hiram scolded lightheartedly. "Auch now. No peeking now."

A giggle bubbled out of Olivia as she went to cover her eyes again.

Hiram was finally able to discreetly take out what was meant for his little girl, and Erin took in the details of it. The object appeared to be a pink, budding tulip bearing no stem or petioles; it only had a windup key attached to it. As Hiram went to set it down on the tinker table, Erin approached with keen interest to have a better look at it. Such workmanship it was. Her boss twisted the windup key a few times, and it was then a delicate, gorgeous melody strung out—a dream-like feel. Olivia removed her hands from her eyes, gasping softly as the tulip petals peeled away to morph into a dress, revealing a lovely mouse princess with a tiara surmounting her head, and it fell into steps of graceful dancing.

Amazement and recognition lit Erin's mien. Thumbelina, she uttered internally. From Olivia's favorite fairytale.

"Oh, Daddy," Olivia gushed, watching the windup toy with rapt attention. "You made this just for me?"

"Hiram, you have truly outdone yourself," Erin praised, her irises filled with impress and remaining trained on Olivia's gift. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she turned her gaze to Hiram. "So that's what's been keeping you occupied in your living quarters for the past few days."

Hiram elicited a chuckle. "And it was all worth it for my dear, Olivia. I wanted to make it very special for her, and since she has mentioned Thumbelina a few times"—he brandished his hands to the toy—"well, I just knew I had to go all out."

A look of respect flashed across Erin's features. "And all out you accomplished."

In the eddying fog that had slowly awakened in the dark, damp streets of London, a frame of a bat hobbled along the road, hefty breathing sounding from him. His countenance was onerous to make out, but what was distinguishable about him was his deformed, leathery wing and his pegged leg. One could say that he was a vagrant just trying to survive the streets, standing at death's door. That was far from it.

The enigmatic figure paused, taking in his surroundings. This had to be the right place. He spat out a wave of sound toward the front of a mouse-made building within the dense fog, hidden from the human race just a few feet away, and when a clear image of it painted across his mind's eye, a horrendous, toothy grin stretched across his face. There it was: The toyshop. The lights were still on, which meant he was in there. Perfect. Best of all, no one would be there to witness what he was about to do next.

He pressed on, his pegged leg scraping and supplying a hollow sound against the road. His shadow slanted across the wall, door, and sign of the toyshop, and a harsh chuckle rolled from him. Tonight would be an unforgettable night.

Meanwhile, inside the toyshop, Erin and Olivia continued to admire Hiram's creation until the music drew to an end, the windup toy folding back into an unbloomed tulip. Hiram truly was a master at toymaking.

"You're the most wonderful father in the… in the whole world!" Olivia exclaimed as she popped off her chair, her arms circling her father, and Hiram returned the gesture, having a father-daughter moment.

Erin gazed at the two with a warm, wistful smile. Seeing those two together reminded her of her relationship with her father. An ache took residence in her chest… How she missed him terribly with each passing day since…

As if knowing what was going through her thoughts, Olivia and Hiram spread their arms out toward Erin, gesticulating for her to join in. Her eyes widened a little, but ever so slowly, warmth suffused her, and she felt a sense of belonging. From the beginning, they had always treated her well, never taking her for granted or putting her down. Memories of her time with them flowed like a calm river through her mind. At that moment, she felt immensely grateful to have been included in the family right from the start.

Without a second thought, Erin joined in, thus creating a group hug of three. Though things in her life were going downhill, at least she could relish this moment. A moment she would–

The door handle started jiggling, interrupting what the trio was having. Puzzled, they switched their attention to the door after separating from the group hug, the door handle still rattling. Erin was about to firmly state to whoever was on the other side of the door that the toyshop was closed and they had to leave, but what seemed like an innocent trying to open the door suddenly turned into something alarming.

Click–click–click–click! Went the door handle more vehemently.

The individual was trying to force their way in, the door shaking and threatening to fly open. Erin's heart lodged in her throat, eyes ballooned like Olivia and Hiram's at that moment. Olivia gasped, and acting on fatherly instinct, Hiram pulled his daughter away from the door.

"Who's that?" Olivia asked with fright.

"I… I–I don't know!" Hiram spoke with truth, a note of panic in his voice.

Acting fast, Erin discarded the broom she still had in her hands and rushed over to the tinker table, grunting with effort as she pushed it toward the door to barricade the intruder's way in, the legs of it scraping against the floor. While she did that, Hiram scooped up Olivia, quickly toting her to the cupboard where he had stored her gift. Olivia was too paralyzed with fear to even protest what her father was doing.

"Quickly, dear. Stay in there and don't come out." Without waiting for an answer, Hiram stuck his daughter in the cupboard.

Erin managed to get the table against the door, but before she could do anything else, Hiram grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to the closet. "Hiram, what are you doing?!" she prodded, caught off guard. "Don't face the danger alone! Let me help you!"

Hiram pushed her into the closet with such haste, staring her directly in the eye. "Erin, if something should happen to me, protect my daughter. No matter what happens, I shall forever be grateful for what you have done for this family."

Erin didn't have the chance to get a word in, for the door suddenly shut in her face. "Hiram, no!" She attempted to open the door, but it refused to budge open. Hiram had locked it. "Blimey! Hiram!"

The sound of glass shattered, followed by a high-pitched cackle. Ice careened down Erin's spine. She shouldered at the door, adrenaline pushing her faster as she heard Hiram struggling against the intruder. Items were getting smashed, and thumping sounds came on the ground and walls. Erin tried to see what was going on through the keyhole, but to her dismay, the key was still in it, blinding her to the ongoing fray. There was an impact against the closet, causing her to lose her balance and her back to hit the wall. A dull ache began throbbing there.

"Gotcha, toymaker!" a grating voice proclaimed, laughing menacingly.

Erin heard Hiram call out to Olivia in a strangled voice, and then a hush hung in the air. Breathing heavily, she planted her back to the wall and decked at the door with her foot. It took a few tries, but she soon managed to splinter the door open, and it hung loosely against the hinges, useless. Her breath caught in her throat. The toyshop was in a disarray, toys and other inanimate objects fractured and littered here and there, paint splattered everywhere.

There was no sign of Hiram, though. He was taken.

"Daddy?! Erin?!"

Relief overcame Erin when she saw that Olivia was okay. She had managed to squeeze out of the cupboard jammed by the overturned tinker table, terror etching her countenance.

"Olivia!" Erin got out, swiftly making her way over to the little girl, and the two embraced each other tightly after the former wilted to her knees.

Olivia shook, clinging to her nanny like her life depended on it. "Daddy… he's…"

"I know, Olivia, I know…" Erin stroked Olivia's back gingerly, trying to ease the poor girl.

They stayed like that for a while, sopping up what had happened and their current predicament. Erin did a once-over of the toyshop, doing some brief mathematical formulas, and that was when she noticed the shattered window. The intruder had barged in that way since they couldn't get in through the door. Who was that? Why did they mousenap Hiram, and for what reason? At that thought, a pang of guilt flashed in her chest. If only Hiram hadn't shoved her into the closet, and if he hadn't, perhaps she could've saved him… but she wasn't able to.

Erin suddenly remembered Hiram's words, and a newfound determination took over, a feeling of responsibility and protection coming with it. She brought her gaze down to Olivia. "Chin up, lass," she spoke soothingly, keeping herself composed as she hooked a finger under Olivia's chin and tilted her head up, using the same tactic her father had used so many times. "We will find your father, that I promise. I need you to be valiant for me. We're in this together through thick and thin, through water and blood. Can you do that for me?"

A shaky breath fell out of Olivia while she turned over Erin's words, but after a few beats of silence, she mustered a nod. "I can do that."

Satisfied with the answer, Erin pushed to her feet. "Now… we just need to figure out what to do."

She began musing. Perhaps they should go to Scotland Yard and report this? But then she recalled how some of them have been handling her father's case. Maybe they could–

"I know what we can do," Olivia imparted, an idea brushing over her mien. Erin didn't get to ask what it was when she then bolted to the back. A few heartbeats later, she returned with the daily newspaper, tearing off a section, and stretched it up to her nanny. "We can seek out his help."

Her brow knitting together, Erin took the torn page, only to soon regret it when she saw it featured a case Basil of Baker Street had solved the other day. Irritation tingled along her flesh. "Absolutely not," she said piercingly. "This is out of the question."

From Olivia's expression alone, she had not anticipated that answer. "Erin, why?"

A sigh slipped out of Erin. How were you to explain to a child that you once knew the said renowned mouse but didn't end on good terms? "It's complicated…"

"What is so complicated about it? Basil can help us, and as it says there"—Olivia pointed to the ripped piece of newspaper—"he solved a case yesterday, and if he can solve that one and many others, he can help us find Daddy. He's our only hope."

Our undoing is a better way to put it, Erin drily thought, not saying it out loud. Instead, she said for her reply, "I'm sorry, Olivia, but Basil is the last mouse we need to be seeing."

Olivia began to whimper, grabbing a fistful of Erin's skirt. "But… we don't know where to start, and Daddy needs us. Please, Erin, please, let's go to Baker Street. Please give Basil a chance… For me? For Daddy?"

Erin would be lying if she said she didn't feel a small string of hurt as her honey-brown irises were on Olivia's innocent, pleading expression. Her mouth went dry. For so long, Erin had been steering clear of Basil, especially concerning her father's case, but the more she stared at Olivia, the more her stubbornness cracked slowly, leaving softness in the wake. Could she really deny Olivia the right to at least seek an audience with Basil in hopes that he may be able to help? Even if it meant facing him again and opening fresh wounds?

Sighing, Erin kneaded her temples. Heaven help me… she groused.