Matters of a Rodential Heart
by Author Babe

Part 1

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This story takes place beginning at the ending scene of the Great Mouse Detective. For those of you who need a refresher in this scene here it is:
Basil: [knock on door] Now who could that be? [Dawson opens door to reveal a pretty mouse]
Woman: I-is this the home of the famous Basil of Baker Street? [dabs eyes with a white hankie]
Dawson: Indeed it is, Miss. [takes off his hat respectfully] You look as if you're in some trouble.
Woman: [tearfully] Oh, oh! I am! I am!
Dawson: Then you've come to precisely the right place.
Basil: [hurries over and slings his arm around Dawson] Ah, allow me to introduce my trusted associate, Dr. Dawson, with whom I do all my cases. Isn't that right, Doctor?
Dawson: Wha-? What? Yes, yes. By all means.
Basil: [chuckles and clears throat] As you can see, Dawson, this young lady has just arrived from the Hempstead district and is troubled about the mysterious disappearance of an emerald ring missing from the third finger of her right hand. Now, tell me the story and pray, be [as] precise [as possible]--

Hope I got that last stuff rite...*hee* OK, let's take it from there, shall we? Hope y'all like it!
Disclaimer: Dearest friends, dear gentlemen, listen to my song. Life down here's been hard for you, life has made you strong. Let me lift the mood, with my attitude...*sniff* Nope, I don't own that song or any of the Great Mouse Detective characters, yadiya...On to my romance/adventure/mystery/comedy...O, and if you're reading this for the romance, it picks up after the situation is established...don't get impatient 2 quik...if you're in this for the mystery, or just a good read, u should like it from the start...i think...
rating: mostly pg w/1 or 2 suggestive remarks (that'll probably slip u by cuz they're so subtle)
AuthorBabe21@aol.com

Basil took out his pipe and walked slowly back to his large sitting chair. The young woman followed. He turned to her slowly. "So you're saying that the emerald was actually a very valuable gift, directly from the Queen, that has been passed down in your family for two and a half centuries?" He puffed on his pipe pensively. "Tell me again about the last time you wore it."

The young woman sighed. "It was at a rather large gathering at my home yesterday."

"Yesterday?" Basil interrupted. His voice was disdainful. "Are you sure that you haven't simply misplaced the bauble? Perhaps one of your maids-"

"Please, Mr. Basil," the young woman looked on the verge of tears. "If you would only spare me a few moments of your time." Dawson gave Basil a sharp look.

"Alright, please continue, Miss...?"

"Miss Rhodes," she replied. "Miss Katherine Rhodes."

"Ah, Miss Rhodes. Go on."

"Thank you. I went to the party and I recall that I was wearing the ring as always. I am rather fond of the ring, you see. It was the last gift given to me by my beloved great aunt Lucretia, bless her soul. I really must get it back. It was such a unique ring. If you looked closely through the actual green gem, you could see a small silver heart. So, I was at the gathering and I passed the ring around to each of my friends. I must admit, that was a rather shallow move." The look on Basil's face showed his agreement. "I suppose at times I can be somewhat of a braggart."

"A common mistake, my dear," Dawson patted her hand gently. "You have too trusting and innocent a heart, obviously." She smiled sweetly at him.

"I let the ring get passed around, and I suppose I lost track of it." Miss Rhodes took a moment to dab at her eyes and regain her composure. "One of my dear friends told me that the last she saw it, some shady looking character was studying it. That silly Samantha must have given it to him. Sometimes I do believe that girl has nothing but fluff for brains, especially when she's had a few spirits..."

"Yes, that's all very good, but don't you have any information of the shady looking character? Is that all you can tell me of the situation?"

"I was told that the shady character was dressed in dark clothes, was not very tall, had a peg leg, and smelled something awful..."

"A peg leg?" Basil interjected. His eyes and ears had perked up. His nose twitched. "A wooden peg leg?"

"Why, yes, of course-"

"Very short? About up to one's waist, perhaps?"

"Why, yes-"

"Smelled of the sea, by any chance?"

"Yes! Yes! You know him?"

Basil frowned and began to pace, mumbling to himself. He looked up quite suddenly. "Was anything mentioned about the ears?"

"Hmm," Miss Rhodes paused. She looked up abruptly. "I'm sorry, something just came back to me! My friend told me that the shady character was most likely...a bat!" Basil let out a loud cry. Even Dawson looked somewhat disturbed.

"Not again," the doctor mumbled, slumping into the seat opposite Basil's. "Dear Heavens, not him again."

"Now, now, Doctor," Basil was wearing a thoughtful expression. "The bat was not our main concern, or even the threat of the situation. A certain overgrown sewer rat was the actual bane of our existence." Basil glanced up at the fireplace mantel, prepared to launch into a spirited tirade, but the portrait was missing from its usual location. It had been tucked away like a forgotten momento the instant the case had been closed.

"Professor Rattigan," Dawson murmered quietly.

"Professor Rattigan!" Basil spat, fire burning in his eyes. Miss Rhodes drew back, her eyes wide and frightened. She moved closer to Dawson. "Until this very week, he was the most dangerous, diabolical, despicable criminal mastermind in all of England. No one was beyond the reach of his evil plans, not even the Queen."

He looked over at Miss Rhodes, his eyes still bright with the passion of his hatred. He cleared his throat when he saw the cowering woman. The detective smoothed back his hair and regained control of his breathing. "Yes, well, that's all a closed book. Our final showdown with the underhanded blackguard put an end to his scheming. Right fine tumble from Big Ben to be specific."

"Almost lost you, too, as I recall," Dawson grinned at his friend. Basil sniffed.

"I would never allow myself to be defeated by that rapscalion, ol' chap. I'm far too resourceful for that."

"Yes, you have proved yourself quite the master of deduction, Basil," Dawson chuckled in admiration.

"That's why I'm here," Miss Rhodes smiled shakily. "I've heard all about you. Everyone was talking about you at my gathering! You're the greatest detective ever!"

"Don't forget my good man Holmes," Basil chuckled. Miss Rhodes giggled. She turned to the doctor.
"You're gaining quite a reputation as well," she leaned into him. "I saw today's newspaper. Your work is quite commendable."

"It was Basil really," Dawson smiled bashfully, a blush staining his little brown nose.

"Nonsense," Miss Rhode's smile broadened. "You are his trusted associate!"

"And friend," Basil grinned at the stout mouse with the red cheeks. His face grew stern again. "But as for the matter at hand-"

"Basil, I find it highly implausible that Rattigan could recover from that dreadful fall," Dawson shook his head disbelievingly. "As for the bat, it is possible that he managed to escape unscathed. However, that is far too large of an assumption."

"Quite right," Basil nodded firmly.

"B-but, I am not lieing about the appearance of a dreadful bat-like creature at my party!" Miss Rhode burst out. Her eyes grew misty again. Dawson gave her hand a pat again, giving up his chair for her.

"Now, now," he soothed. "Basil will get to the bottom of this. You'll get your valuable back."

"Dawson, I do believe that it would've been highly implausible for Rattigan and his bat to survive," Basil explained, his hands folded behind his back. "Highly implausible, but still possible. Neither of us were able to recover the bodies of the perpetrators. Their deaths have been supposed, and rightly so. However, we cannot rule them out completely."

"But why would they steal something such as this?" Dawson asked slowly. "It seems quite insignificant in the grand scheme of things." Basil nodded his agreement.

"But was the theft of an emerald his main purpose? Perhaps he wished to draw attention to himself instead, alert us to the fact of his survival."

"Have you considered the fact that perhaps only PegLeg survived? Maybe he was simply stealing to support himself."

"I doubt it, Doctor. The bat does not work alone, and he is actually a shiphand. Stealing is not his main forte. I wonder if he was expecting the lovely Miss Rhodes to bring this case to us. It must not be coincidence that there was such a widespread discussion of my skills right before the disappearance of the jewel."

"We were in the paper," Dawson reasoned, his brow furrowed.

"But, the story didn't get out until today's paper. Doctor, I believe we are being led into a neatly arranged trap devised by...well, we haven't arrived at that yet. Can't jump to conclusions too quickly."

"What about my ring?" Miss Rhodes squeaked out, a tear rolling down her cheek. Dawson's eyes softened.

"Yes, what about Miss Rhodes?"

Basil stared at the young lady for a moment, who was delicately dabbing at her nose. She looked up abruptly. "I forgot. There was a note left on the pianoforte. I wasn't sure if I should bother you with it." From a pocket in her expensive green overcoat, Miss Rhodes produced a thin slip of paper.

Basil grabbed it hastily and proceeded to read the short, scrawled writing. If your emerald is precious to you, you'll come get it at the residence of a mutual companion. There was no signature. The writing was smooth and the paper was crisp. Basil scrutinized the paper for a moment.

"This is a rather expensive piece of paper," he murmered, more to himself than anyone else in the room. He bit into the paper gently. "The ink is smooth, no splotches, obviously written with a finer brand of quill pen." He mumbled incoherently while pacing. "Smells and tastes of fine, aged wine. A classic, one of my favorites, to be precise. Rattigan-I mean the criminal behind this has taken a large step up."

"It also smells of lady's perfume." The two men looked at Miss Rhodes, who blushed and bowed her head. "No, not yours, I'm afraid. Yours is much more subtle. This perfume is blatant, meant to attract and appeal to the male senses. I believe it is the sort that a woman of lower breeding and morals would be wearing." He tilted his head, studying the paper for a moment more.

"I believe that this letter was written in a men's club. A rather fancy one at that. Not many of those around. The fancy ones, I mean." Dawson glanced over at Miss Rhodes, his face pink. She smiled shyly at him. Oblivious to the exchange, Basil ran toward his laboratory. He crushed up the paper with a mortar and pestle. "Quite a familiar process, eh Dawson?" The doctor pulled his gaze away from Miss Rhodes.

"Oh, why, yes!" he choked out. Basil continued the procedure, finally producing an orange powder. He shook his head slowly.

"Traces of horse hair...streetfront...salt...facing the sea...entertainment district, I suppose...slightly damp earlier, humidity must've been a dread," Basil rambled on his observations. Suddenly he spun around. "Miss Rhodes, have no fear. If you wouldn't mind, leave your calling card with Mrs. Judson. She's in the kitchen cooking up some delightful treat. Be forewarned, she'll want to feed you quite healthily. Doctor, your coat. We must go immediately."

Dawson nodded confusedly and quickly fetched his coat. He turned to Miss Rhodes with a kind smile. "Don't worry, my dear. Things will all work out for the best." She took his hands in hers.

"With you on the case, I have no doubts of that," she leaned down and gave him a sisterly peck on the cheek. His face heated up again.

"Dawson!" The doctor quickly hurried off, turning back briefly to wave at the pretty Miss Rhodes.

"Basil, where exactly-"

"Shhh..." The detective had opened the entrance to Mr. Sherlock Holme's sitting room, which happened to adjoined to his own smaller home. With a cursory scan of the room, Basil emitted a shrill whistle. There was immediately a loud thumping. A large beagle skid to a stop just in front of the two mice. Basil hurried over to the dog, followed hesitantly by the doctor.

"Good boy, Toby," Basil greeted the dog somewhat professionally, who leaned down to the mouse, providing easier access to his usual perch on its head. Dawson cautiously approached the dog, who snarled at him. He smiled nervously.

"G-good d-dog," he muttered, attempting to climb up the dog's soft fur. Toby rolled his eyes. Basil reached down and impatiently yanked Dawson onto the dog's back, who took off running. Toby howled triumphantly as adrenaline pumped his stubby legs. Basil shouted out commands to the excited beagle, and finally the docks came in view. Sailors, enticing women, and various other characters mulled around in the darkness. Humans and mice blended together. Basil commanded Toby to stop.

"Come, Doctor," he said, sliding off of the dog's back. "Toby, this is no sort of place for you. Would you mind finding somewhere nearby to hide away until we get back?" The dog panted cheerfully, then grabbed a doggie toy from Basil and trotted away. Dawson glanced back and forth between the dog and the dark scene before them.

"Ah, are we in the right place?" Basil's face was now grim as he gave a nod.

"We need to go change into our disguises," he nodded towards an out of sight corner. Ten minutes later they wandered out of the shadows looking overly respectable. Dawson was in the guise of a ship captain and Basil looked like a wealthy, yet greedy gentleman. "Act casual. Try to blend in this time, and don't drink anything, for Heaven's sake!" The doctor blushed as he recalled his last undercover assignment. It wasn't his fault. How was he to know their drinks had been drugged?

He stumbled after Basil, trying to make his face a cool, collect, tough mask. Basil swaggered along in front of him, trying to blend into the crowd of bustling mice. Dawson looked around, in somewhat of a panic. He'd never been in this type of a place before. He gasped with shock as a woman winked at him, waving him over. He turned away and moved closer to Basil.

They arrived shortly in front of a dimly lit building. There was a rough looking mouse standing at the entrance. Basil strode up confidently, the doctor trailing. "We're here for a night of cards, chap." The guard looked at the pair suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. Basil lowered his voice. "Maybe we'll walk out with a garter or two, as well, eh?" The guard chuckled nastily as Basil winked at him. The guard nodded at them, and they hurried past.

The inside of the building was still dimly lit. Smoke filled the air. There was a stage at the front of the room, and chandeliers adorned the ceiling. Exotic plants and scents filled the room. Nice place, in an odd, seedy sort of way, Dawson thought to himself. A number of barmaids were walking around, scantily dressed in showgirl type costumes. One of them walked up to Basil and Dawson.

"Right this way, gentlemen," she winked at them. Basil scanned the room casually as they entered. There were card games going on at a number of tables. Professional gambling tables lined the walls. They sat at a wood table with an ornate carving decorating its surface. "Is there anything I can get you handsome boys?" She leaned forward so that her neckline dipped.

"We'll take two pints of your finest," Basil smiled faintly, keeping his voice somewhat snooty and aloof. "We don't want to be disturbed too much. We're doing business, if you know what I mean." She nodded and sashayed away. Basil leaned back and tried to make it seem as if he were engaged in an exclusive discussion with Dawson.

"Dawson, do you notice anything peculiar?"

"Uh, well, not really."

"Take a closer look at that gambling table over there. Doesn't it seem odd that all the participants are smoking a brand of cigar that can only be bought at that certain familiar location where the sewer meets the water front?"

"Does that mean they're all in Rattigan's gang?"

"Not necessarily, Dawson. It does, however, mean that they are higher on my list of suspects than anyone else. It also means that they may hold important information that we need. For instance, why are they here? Feel like taking a shot at your luck, Doctor?"

"Erm--not especially," Dawson shrugged bashfully. "More often than not, I don't bode well with the lovely Lady Luck."

"Very well," Basil replied shortly. "I'll be back post-haste. Remember, don't drink anything, just fuss over the cup a bit. Look like you belong here! And don't sound so very refined. You're a sea captain, hungry for sight of land, good wine, and a taste of the women as well."

"I shall try my best." Dawson gave Basil a solemn nod. Basil got up and tried to look inconspicuous as he made his way across the room. Before he could reach the table though, he noticed the curtains slide open. A rather attractive woman was standing in the center of the stage. She was wearing an red, ankle-length gown with heavy silver jewelry draped around her bare neck and on her arms. He quickly noticed that she was wearing several rings as well. He was looking over her collection of rings when she put her hands behind the folds of her dress. Men began to hoot. She looks rather uncomfortable, Basil noted, continuing to look at the woman with interest.

She stepped forward and began to sing in the most beautiful voice Basil had ever heard. The entire room slipped into a dead silence as every eye fastened itself upon the lovely angel singing onstage. Every note that left her luscious mouth struck a chord in Basil's heart. He felt his mind clear. Her song was powerful, something about the tragedy of lost love and the tears of Heaven. The mouse detective felt his own eyes sting with tears as the song came to a dramatic end. The silence lingered for several moments after the woman had left the stage. Basil shook himself out of his stunned state and began to join in the hearty applause that erupted. He shook his head, trying to clear the images of the beautiful vision that had awakened his heart.

Basil turned to focus on his target again. The men were still focused intensely on their game. He slipped beside the table and took some money from his pocket. The men looked over at him, their faces showing malice. Basil pretended not to notice. "Deal me in, boys." He was handed some cards with an unfriendly grunt. He feigned interest in the hand while sneaking glances around the table. Suddenly, he linked eyes with a familiar looking lizard who wore a smug smirk on his face. The reptile looked away after giving Basil a sneer, his eyes showing no recognition. One of Rattigan's finest, Basil thought to himself, secretly glad for the dim lights and hard drink. The lizard didn't seem to take much more notice of the new addition to the table.

Basil won a hand, but didn't want anyone to scrutinize him too closely, so he lost the following round. There wasn't much conversation that didn't relate to the game. He decided to try to stir things up. "I'm seeking to do some business, and I am in need of the help of a fellow I've heard about in this area. I think he goes by the name of...Rattigan. Do any of you know how I can reach him?" Basil wasn't surprised when an unnatural hush fell across the room. How was it that no matter how low his voice was when he said the notorious name everyone within a ten mile radius still managed to hear?

Basil was given the usual chorus of "no" and "never heard of him" amidst the awkward and guarded expressions. He sighed. Perhaps a new approach was in order. A few of the men looked like they wanted to escape Basil's company as quickly as possible. I'll fix that, he chuckled to himself, laying a substantial amount of money onto the table. "Let's go a round of double or nothing," he challenged with a sneer. The gleam of the gold brightened the men's eyes.

The men put their total concentration onto the tables as they clutched their cards mistrustfully. "So where are you gents from?" Basil asked conversationally. He received a glare or two.

"We're all visitin' from the lower half of the docks." The response was brisk and gruff.

"Ah, the sewers," Basil gave an innocent look around. "I took in a pint or two at a quaint little club down that way. This place is quite a bit more expensive, eh?"

"Yeah, but the food doesn't have that fresh ocean salt taste. Nothing to grind my teeth on," a stocky looking fellow turned to Basil, his voice slurred and his eyes bloodshot.

"You don't mind the prices here though?"

"Well, I'm not payin'." The stocky and slightly tipsy rodent was given several silencing looks. He was much too enebriated to pay them heed. "None of us are. We wouldn't be here if one of us had to pay. Nope, tonight is the big guy's treat. He's loaded, ya' know. That's why ol' Rattig-" The mouse suddenly became very quiet. Everyone looked nervously at him. A tiny grimace distorted his features, before he slumped to the ground, a knife in his back.

Basil jumped back and looked around. His eyes met unwelcome and closed-off looks at every turn. He sighed and strode quickly to the table where he'd left Dawson. The empty table was an unpleasant surprise, but the empty wine glass was even more of a disappointment. Basil searched the crowd for the short and stout mouse, but there was no sign of his friendly little companion.

"Gentlemen, put yerrr hands togetherrr forr a new bit of enterrtainment," a booming voice, with a Scottish burr, caught his attention. A rough looking sailor-mouse was grinning cockily on the stage. "Herre's one hideous lookin' dame, singin' some tune or 'notherrr." The mouse made a hasty exit and who should swagger into the spotlight but Basil's missing buddy. Basil grimaced with the utter degradation of the new performance. This was a sight I'd never expected, nor wanted, to see. Dawson continued to happily strum on a banjo while crooning a horribly offkey melody and wearing a coconut bra and grass skirt. Basil rolled his eyes and decided to head backstage to collect his friend.

He slipped through a doorway marked 'Employees Only', staying alert of all surrounding dangers. If only I had a camera...Basil smiled, glancing over his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes as two very muscular mice opened a door down the hallway from him. Thinking quickly, he opened a nearby door marked 'Costumes' and ran in, shutting it gently behind him. With luck, I can find a new disguise and slip out of here undetected, he thought to himself.

"I don't think you're supposed to be here," a silky voice behind him said. He turned slowly to face one of the most beautiful mice he had ever seen. His jaw worked up and down for a few minutes. They regarded each other silently for a few minutes before a corner of the woman's lips tilted upwards. "What's your name, cutie?"

"Bas-Lord Dumont," Basil covered over his stutters as smoothly as possible, keeping in mind that he was in cognito. The woman smiled and began to reapply her makeup. He took this moment to study her more closely. For future reference, of course, he reasoned with himself. She was tanned, with big blue-green eyes and curling hair that looked soft to the touch. She was slender, and wearing a shimmery red dress. He recognized her as the singer from before. She was much more attractive up close, though. His eyes moved back upward and he jumped slightly when he saw her looking at him. She smiled knowingly and winked at him.

"Well, usually I'd have to report you," she said slowly, as if thinking the situation over. "But, you don't look like you could do much harm. You don't have any evil gleam in your eye, and you seem like a trustworthy kinda guy."

"Yes, I'm nothing if not dependable," he said with a wry grin. She giggled. He smiled more broadly. Her laugh was contagious, and almost as musical as her singing voice. He paused for a moment. "You're from the Americas."

"Yes, I was born in New York."

"If I may be so bold, may I ask why you're...well..."

"Why I'm in a place like this? We all do foolish things when we're young."

"Ah, I see."

"I'm supposed to be meeting my boss here in a few minutes. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Well, I'm looking for my friend, er-the captain who was recruited for entertainment," he explained. She burst out laughing again.

"Oh, he was adorable!"

"Yes, the grass skirt really brought out his natural coloring, eh?" She giggled some more.

"Well, I can get you up to the edge of the stage. You can take him from there, if you'd like." Basil nodded gratefully and they smiled at each other for a moment. "Well, come on then." She led him down the hallway to the edge of the curtains. Dawson was just staggering offstage, a goofy smile pasted onto his face. The audience was roaring with laughter and applause. Basil shook his head as his friend walked up to him.

"I was *hiccup* great, wathisn't I, Bassull?" the words were hard to make out. Basil sighed. Suddenly, a hand clamped down on his shoulder. The rough looking mouse was glaring at him.

"What'rre ye scaliwags doin' back herrre?" Basil quickly tried to formulate an excuse.

"They're with me," the beautiful young woman replied quickly. The Scottish mouse squinted at her.

"Ah, finally brringin' in some business? Two of 'em? Well, go on then." The leer on the mouse's face made Basil feel queasy. They dragged Dawson down the hallway, but he collapsed only halfway.

"We can put him in the dressing room until he sobers enough to walk out of here," she whispered urgently. Basil nodded grimly.

"By the way, I don't believe I caught your name," he said quickly. She glanced over at him.

"I'm Celia," she grinned. He smiled.

"Celia..."

Dawson's groan interrupted their moment. They pulled him into her dressing room and laid him down behind her dressing wall. "How long do you think he's going to be out of it?" Dawson began snoring quietly.

"I'm not exactly sure, but remind me never to let him touch another alcoholic beverage again." Celia smiled at him and opened her mouth to reply when there was a knock on the door. Celia froze.

"What's the matter?" Basil glanced toward the door, when it was pounded on for the second time. "Why of all the rude-"

"That's my boss," she whispered nervously, her eyes wide. "Lord Rattigan..."

2B Continued...