Basil of Baker Street
Gone, but Not Forgotten

By Brinatello
Created 5/8/07

Disclaimer: This is my first attempt at writing with the characters of the Basil of Baker Street series as well as Disney's animated feature, The Great Mouse Detective. All characters portrayed in this story are owned by both author Eve Titus and Disney.

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Chapter 1: The Missing Letter

Sunday, March 13, 1898
The weather report in the London Times predicted light showers and scattered clouds, and it should have said the same for a similar newspaper of the Mouse World, the London Mouse Daily.  Once the clock chimed 7 a.m. on old Big Ben, a bolt of lightning shot through the gray skies, followed by a crack of tremendous thunder.  A tall, thin mouse looked out his front window with hands behind his back, watching a rain drop pelt against the glass.  A second and third came forth and before he knew it, their little flat beneath 221b Baker Street became a growing flood of water.  The mouse groaned to the typical London rain they got almost every day and was hoping it would clear up real soon.  If it weren't for sandbags placed along the borders of his home, he and his fellow flat occupants would be up to their waists in this glorious down pour.  The tall mouse quickly opened his door to retrieve his newspaper before it got too soaked on the porch.  As he predicted from reading the main page, events were scheduled around town for this holiday.  It was one holiday he wasn't too keen on participating with, but he respected others who celebrated it.  The sound of footsteps got his attention, heavy footsteps to be exact.

"Good morning, Dawson."  He said without turning around.  A second mouse appeared in the foyer room, more shorter and portly in size, carrying with him a light blue coat under one arm.

"And good morning to you--"  Dawson paused to stare at the young detective dressed in a handsome gray suit, gray slacks, a blue tie and hair combed nicely on top.  "Basil, my word, you look marvelous!"

Basil accepted the compliment with a nod.  "Thank you, Dawson.  So do you."

Dawson looked down to his pocket watch.  "Well, then, we're wearing our Sunday best.  Are you ready to go?"

Basil nodded again.  "Yes, I'm ready.  I'm just waiting for Mrs. Judson.  She's still getting ready.  Oh, and she won't be coming back with us.  I've given her the rest of the day off and she'll resume her duties tomorrow."

"That was nice of you, Basil."  Dawson smiled.

Basil shrugged a little.  "It's the least I could do after putting up with me all these years."  Dawson bit his lip to that.  "The old girl's been like a second mother to me, kind, courteous, and always there whenever I needed her."

"Like a second mother."  Dawson repeated, nodding a little.  "Yes, today would be a good day to think of mothers."  Basil looked away and shrugged.  "Oh, forgive me, Basil.  I didn't mean, that is--"

"No, it's quite all right, Dawson."  Basil looked to the door leading to the kitchen, then back to Dawson.  "There are moments when the slightest essence of her enters my mind.  It lingers for a bit, or at times for hours, and then it goes away.  I have the memories of her, and even better I've saved everything I had ever received from her.  For example, she wrote me a letter once..."  His voice drifted as he went to his bookshelf, sifting through a scrapbook.  "I remember when I received high honors at my university, she wrote a beautiful letter and I put it with these newspaper clippings..."

"Oh, Basil, you never told me this."  Dawson said with a grin.

"Yes, well, as you know, I usually don't wish to trouble others with such talk."  Dawson knew that all too clearly and decided to say nothing while Basil flipped through the scrapbook.  "No, not in here, this one is more current."  He placed the scrapbook back and the shelf and reached for an older, dustier one.  "I kept the letter in the original envelope so that I wouldn't lose it...however..."

"Hmm?"  Dawson's eyebrows raised.

"I think I've lost it."  The detective groaned, tapping his fingers lightly on the bookshelf.

"Oh, I certainly hope not!"  Dawson frowned.  "Perhaps it was misplaced?"

"No, that's impossible, Dawson."  He said irritably.  "I know I kept it in a scrapbook of old newspaper clippings and now it's gone."  Sighing, he shoved the book back onto the shelf, staring at it with regret.  "Oh, well.  It's nothing worth a fret over.  It was just a letter, nothing spectacular."

"Maybe not to anyone else, but to you!"  Dawson walked over, placing a hand to upon his shoulder.  "Tell you what, I'll help you look for it when we get back.  How does that sound?"  Basil shrugged a little, his face looking as gloomy as when he reached a dead end in one of his cases.

"Well, I thought about cleaning my work space a little bit while Mrs. Judson is gone.  Although, as you can see, she has started to clean around this area, probably thinking you and I wouldn't get to it."

"Hello, gents!"  Mrs. Judson entered the foyer, smiling brightly at the two.  Dawson and Basil both faced her, gasping quietly to her new and rare appearance.  Instead of her usual attire of an apron and bonnet, she was dressed in a lovely light blue two-piece dress with a white lace-trimmed blouse.  "Ahh, don't we all look lovely?"

"You look quite radiant, Mrs. Judson."  Dawson said, reaching to glance at his pocket watch.  "Oh, we'd better get going.  No telling how long it'll take us to get there with this weather!"

Basil agreed in a silent nod, reaching for his long cloak and hat.  Dawson approached the coat rack, followed by Mrs. Judson.

"Oh, Mr. Basil, I should let you know that I have left something for you and Dawson.  It's in the kitchen--"

Basil waved a hand.  "Ahh, I already know what it is, my dear, and I thank you very much for it."

"What is it?"  Dawson asked while applying his coat.

"You'll see."  They both said at the same time and Mrs. Judson smiled to the detective.  "That is, it's a surprise Mr. Dawson."  Basil opened the door to their flat as a lightning flashed and thunder boomed outside.  Eyes widened, he turned to the other two with a low sigh.

"This had better be a good day."

**********

Chapter 2: A Celebrity Amongst Us

The streets outside were not only wet, but dangerously slippery with humans splashing in the deep puddles.  The three mice gathered hands and ducked their heads into the rain falling down side-ways.  Their little umbrellas had some effort against the strong winds.  Any minute they felt like they were going to get blown away into the cold, dark air.  Fellow mice raced alongside the three to reach the nearest carriage cab and catch it before it departed away onto the bumpy cobblestone road.  Rain continued to drop down in heavy patterns, saturating everyone and everything in sight.

"Good morning to you folks."  Dawson tried to tip his hat to their fellow cab riders and ended up holding onto it.  A young male mice nodded to the greeting and resumed holding onto the rim of the carriage.  Next to him was a female mouse and then two children mice, one male and one female also bundled up in thick, heavy coats.  Basil recognized them as neighbors close to his flat, a nice family he had chatted with on occasion.

"I say, do you think this rain will let up today?"  The male mouse asked.

"I sincerely hope so."  Dawson said with a groan.

"There's supposed to be some outdoor activities after the service."  The female mouse said.  "They might have to move them indoors, or cancel them completely."  This news didn't sit well with their children and they both looked to their parents in deep regret.

"We'll have to see when we arrive."  Basil said when he caught their faces.

Upon arriving to their destination, the mice jumped off the cab and hurried to the main entrance.  Even on the darkest of days, Westminster Abbey had a heavenly glow to it on all sides.  Not even bad weather could put a damper on its glory and beauty.  More mice appeared from various directions to all rush into the entrance made especially for their size, not wanting to stop and chit-chat in the pouring rain.  Humans started to follow the same path, making all sorts of splashes with their large, clumsy feet.  Basil grabbed a hold of his friends and dragged them inside, thankful that none of them got trampled to death.  His neighbors soon reached the safety of the dry indoors and followed behind to find seats.

The church had a large turn out of mice from every corner of London, the majority of the citizens were young girls with their mothers.  Older gents came along with their wives and even elderly couples entered with younger ones in tow.  Families of all ages could be seen dressed in formal attire, colors mainly of pastel pinks, violets and light blues.  Basil took a seat on the end at the left-most side of the pew with Dawson joining him.  Mrs. Judson, meanwhile, met up with her family members and went to go sit with them.

It wasn't long before it started, low at first, and then it became very audible.  He didn't want to hear it, he didn't want to look, but it was already happening.   Whispers of the famous mouse detective came directly from behind where they sat.  Dawson looked up from reading his pamphlet and turned to Basil, giving a small grin.

"Do you hear them?"

"All too clearly."  He said quietly, trying to pretend like he didn't.  Just then, a young girl walked up to Basil's side with her hands behind her back..

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Basil, the detective?"  She asked in a shy voice.

Basil smiled.  "Yes, I am, can I help you?"

"No, my mum wanted to know.  Here."  She extended two daffodils.  "Happy Mothering Sunday to you!"  Dawson and Basil looked to one another and slowly took the single flowers.  The girl curtsied and rushed back to her seat, not waiting for an answer.

"Well, wasn't that sweet of her?"  Dawson placed the flower into his breast pocket, glad to see that Basil did the same on his coat.

"Very sweet, and very unexpected."  Basil dared to turn his head around to see who else would come walking up to them.  In the opposite direction, someone reached over and tapped his shoulder.  Basil blinked and turned to look, seeing another girl in their pew standing in front of them.  She was much younger in age and could easily slip past Dawson in order to tap his shoulder.  She also looked very nervous.

"Hi, are you that detective, Basil?"

"Yes."  He smiled again and Dawson was now trying not to laugh.  "Is there something you need?"  She nodded a little and pulled out a notepad and pencil.  Basil's eyes lowered down to it, his smile fading.  "Uh..."

"It's for my mum."  She quickly said, turning bright red.  "Please?"

How could he turn down a mother on that day?  Nodding once, he reached for the items and scribbled out a catchy phrase, followed by his signature.  The girl shifted her gaze back and forth between he and Dawson, ready to bolt at any moment.

"There you go, my dear."  He barely gave her back the items when she took off running.  "Thank you?"  No curtsey and no flowers, she was obviously quite frightened to approach them.  Before he could say anything else, he got two more autograph requests, ready to expect a line starting up by his row.

"My, you're a popular one this morning."  Dawson let out a low snicker when a third one arrived, this one bringing her mother by the hand.  Basil gave Dawson a squinty-eyed look to his snickering.

"It's not funny, Dawson.  I was not expecting this kind of attention in the least!"

"Well, did you get those sort of reaction last year?"  Dawson asked, chewing his lip.

"Oh, I get this reaction everywhere, apparently."  Basil grumbled and leaned back against the hard wood of the pew.  He crossed his leg and both arms over his chest, looking very defiant sitting there.  "Goodness, I'm just a detective, not someone famous like the Maharajah of Bengistan!"

"Does it bother you to get these requests?"  Dawson asked quietly.

"No.  Not at all, Dawson."  Basil shook his head.  "I would never turn down an autograph from anyone, especially young children, even if it's for their parents and not for themselves.  It just doesn't seem like the proper place to sign autographs.  It feels a little disrespectful to ask for my signature in a house honoring Kings and Queens."  As he said that, an adorable child appeared to his left, smiling very sweetly to him.

"Basil, you've got company."  Dawson chuckled.

Basil rolled his head over to her, stared briefly, then rolled his head back to face Dawson.  "This is going to be a long service."

**********

Chapter 3: Gravesite Visit

After the service ended, Dawson thought it best to leave the church grounds and away from more mice coming up requesting Basil's autograph.  He could see his friend really wasn't in the mood to sign anything for anyone, nor felt much like talking about succeeding his latest case.  Before they left, they had to say goodbye to Mrs. Judson who stood standing around her family in the lobby of the church.  She smiled and gave them both eye-popping hugs.

"Oh, goodbye gents, enjoy the rest of the day!"  She beamed.   "I will see you tomorrow and I'll make my famous pancakes for you both!"

Dawson couldn't enjoy the rest of the day after hearing that statement.  He wished it already was tomorrow!  That morning, they ate a quick, unsatisfying breakfast in order to change and look presentable for their public at the church.  Now, he was really hungry, and Basil offered to take him to a coffee shop for something to eat.  Dawson was already spoiled by Mrs. Judson's wonderful cooking, but he knew the food was good there and didn't protest.

The topic at the table turned to Basil's missing letter once more, one that Dawson didn't want to hear over again.  Basil sat and went through his entire scrapbook collection and named each book and where they were on the shelf.  Like the true detective that he was, he told him he knew that bookshelf like the back of his hand and that he placed that letter in a spot where he knew he left it.

"It's there, Basil."  Dawson assure him, tapping his arm.  "We'll go home and look for it."

"Not just yet."  Basil replied, sipping his tea briefly.  "There's one more thing I want to do today before we go home."

Dawson had a feeling what his friend had in mind to do.  The two finished up their breakfast and left the coffee shop onto the street where the rain had finally gone away and only scattered clouds filled the skies.  The sun had broken through to warm themselves and their saturated clothing.  Dawson followed Basil to the curb side to hop upon the next cab ride and awaited for their next destination.

"How did I know we were going here?"  Dawson sighed when he saw the entrance to a local cemetery just outside the border of town.  The grass fields were very high in this area and the hills were filled with rows upon rows of tombstones, crosses, and angelic statues.  Basil paused to look up at the gate before preceding inside to find a small patch of grass with some wild flowers growing.

"It has been quite a while since I visited here, Dawson.  It's only right to do so on this day."

"I understand, Basil."

Nodding, Basil walked off from the patch of flowers and turned down an aisle.   Dawson slowly followed with hands in his pockets, looking left to right.   Some other mice were also there, dropping off flowers and standing by gravesites.  He lost sight of Basil at one point as he walked around this maze of marble statues, but if he really got stuck in there, all he had to do was turn around and head for the iron gate.  Eventually, he found his young friend bent on one knee and putting some flowers on a grave marker.  No tears were in his eyes.  He face possessed no emotion of any sort.  It was almost a mechanical act to bend down, drop the flowers, say a few words, and then stand back up.

"Oh, I hope wherever you are, you have found true happiness.  That was all I ever wanted you to have."  Basil mumbled, and feeling a presence, quickly backed away and turned to Dawson with a shrug.  "Ahem, yes, I am aware that she's not really there at all.  The soul has left the body and moved on and I'm merely talking to a grave marker and nothing more."

"I wasn't thinking that, Basil."  Dawson said innocently.  Why did he have to explain things so scientifically?

"We can go now."  He stride forward with his long legs and turned to walk out of the aisle, pausing to see his friend looking off across the fields at another aisle.  "Dawson, are you coming?"

"Yes, but I thought I saw...oh!  Look who's over there!"  Dawson pointed across the lawn over to two figures standing next to a lonely grave.  Although this was a public cemetery and company was expected, they weren't expecting who they saw standing there.  Former relations from a former case was what the detective often referred to those he helped in the past.  Basil straightened up to his full height, squinting against the sun to see the figures stand perfectly still, each holding a set of beautiful posies in their hands.  "Should we go say hello?"

"Not sure if we should do that."  Basil lightly brushed off a fallen leaf from his shoulder and looked again, seeing one of the figures walk over next to the grave while the other figure stood back watching overhead.  "Maybe they don't want to be disturbed?"

"I think it'll be all right, Basil. We should go say hello.  It's the least we can do."

Basil looked down briefly, then to the doctor with a single nod.  "Hmm, I suppose you're right, Dawson."

The two mice made their way down the path and toward the figures, the winds picking up once more as if carrying them along to the other side of the park. Stopping at the first figure, he turned to look at them with a confused expression.

"Basil, Dr. Dawson. What are you doing here?"

"Paying some respects for a dearly departed."  Basil replied quietly.

"Yes, of course.  We've come to do the same, have so every year since she's passed.  I was certain each new year would be better, but no, the pain is still too great for us.   Too great for my little one over there." Basil frowned to that and looked over to the kneeling figure. He could hear low murmurs of talking, slow at first, and then the words became more clear.

"I- I miss you...s-so much. I feel s-so alone without you. Daddy's trying, but it still hurts. I don't want to be alone anymore."

Something caused his feet to carry him over to the figure, and then something caused him to kneel down beside them, listening to every mournful sob.  Finally, his hand reached out and he placed it upon their shoulder, giving a light squeeze of comfort.

"Hey.  You are not alone. You will never be alone as long as you have your father and friends here with you."  The figure gasped and looked up at him with a sorrowful, tear-stricken face.

"B- Basil?"

"Yes, Olivia, it's me."

"You're here?  B-but, why?"

"The same as you."  He shrugged with a small smile.  "Mothers and flowers, they seem to go together quite well, don't they?"  His smile faded when he saw she was starting to weep again.

"Y-yes, I guess so."  Olivia stood up and brushed the dirt off her dress, sniffing and looking back at the grave marker.  "I- I just wish I could hand them to her instead."  Basil rose and placed an arm around her shoulder and, without warning, she leaned her head against his waist, continuing to sob.  She had done this move before, yet he wasn't quite prepared for it this time.  He stood there quite stunned, unable to do or say anything for a good few seconds.  As her father had done for so long, he simply allowed her emotion to run free and wild, as it should when one is mourning the loss of a loved one.

"It'll be all right."  He patted her shoulder in condolence.  "Don't cry."

"I can't help it."  She muffled against his coat.  "I want her back, Basil. I want to see her again."

"I know you do, my dear. I know.  Nothing would give me more pleasure then to see my own mother again as well."  Basil sighed, looking over to her mother's grave.  Flowers of all sorts, mainly wild flowers, surrounded the marker in a careful, well-placed position. The new posies made the wilted flowers look shameful in comparison, but for its owner, it really didn't matter.  Olivia felt him starting to move and she followed along, still clinging to his waist.  Basil slowly reached the two and looked to her father first.  "Flaversham, if you have no other plans, you're more than welcome to accompany Dawson and I back to Baker Street."

"Thank you, Basil.  We would be honored to do that."  The toy maker smiled and looked to Olivia whom stood staring up at Basil wide-eyed and mouth dropped.

"Daddy, our name!  He said it right!"

"Of course, he did."  Mr. Flaversham nodded with slight confusion.  "Why wouldn't he?  He's always said it right."  Olivia blinked and looked to Basil with a pout whom looked away with a little guilt.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, well, ahem, shall we go then?"  He shrugged to Olivia, whom still pouted all the way to the cemetery gate.  Basil tried not to look, but he knew it was a much better expression then her sad, tearful one.

"You could say it right."  She whispered as she walked alongside him.

"Say what?"  He asked without looking.

"You could say my name right all along and you deliberately said it wrong to me!"

Basil lifted his nose in the air.  "Preposterous.  It was a minor slip of the tongue.  Happens to all of us."

"What's my name then?"

"Pardon?"

"Say my name!"  She said, looking to her father who was too far away to hear.  "No, wait--"

"You mean Flangledangle?"

"Basil!  Daddy, he said it wrong!"  Olivia turned to her father who looked over with a frown.  "Did you hear him?"

"I'm sorry, Olivia, I wasn't listening, what did Basil say?"

"Never mind."  Groaning, she looked to Basil to see him walking calmly, hands in his pockets and keeping his nose held high.  "One of these days, Daddy will catch you, and then he'll believe me."  Basil lifted a small corner in his mouth.  "Flangledangle, indeed."

"Slip of the tongue!"  He muttered.

Even though the mangling of her surname was an old game since they first met, it often annoyed Olivia to no end.  She picked up not too long after that he was deliberately doing it just to tease her, rile her up, or perhaps, cause a smile to a sad-looking face.   He loved playing around with her and he found it even more amusing when she'd continue to try and win the battle, only to come out a sore loser.

Back into town, the four caught a cab ride and rode it back to Baker Street, feeling the drops start to come down again.  Dawson opened up his umbrella and Olivia bowed her head into her father's chest, trying to block the rain from her face.  Basil jumped on last and lowered his hat down past his eyes.  Olivia couldn't see them, but he was watching her, and she was still making pouts at any given chance.

"Flaversham."  Olivia whispered.

"Whatever."  Basil responded.

"Fine.  You win."  She gave up and hugged her father, not wanting to see Basil's victorious expression.

**********

Chapter 4: Lost and Found

The four returned to Baker Street as the rain turned to hail all around them.  The sandbags did their job at keeping the walls sturdy with the mud filling up on the other side.  Each entered the main foyer and Basil quickly walked to the fireplace to get a fire going, making a suggestion to hang their coats around the mantle so that they would dry faster.  The rain continued to drop and slam against the main window and although it was a dreadful sight, Basil kept the curtains pulled aside to see if anyone would be coming up to his door.  In neither rain nor shine, he got visitors from all over seeking his aid.

"No one may come knocking at your door in this horrid weather."  Dawson said while looking out the window.

"Folks will come in any sort of weather.  If they have a problem, they'll tread the extra distance and wear extra articles of clothing to come see me.  I've seen all walks of life come through that door."  Basil tossed another log on the fire, causing sparks to fly.  He pushed the safety grate over it and hung the wet coats nearby.  Olivia approached his side and handed her coat over to him.  "Thank you, Miss Flavershell."

"Flaversham!"  Olivia huffed, turning to look for her father.  He was by the front door, removing his coat near Dawson.  He didn't hear him mispronouncing their surname yet again!  Basil caught her pouting and smiled.

"Whatever."  He winked and went to remove his gray jacket to put on his dark purple house robe.  Feeling a little more comfortable, he sat down in his favorite red leather chair with one leg crossed.  Soon enough, the room started to get warm and cozy as each one took a seat to relax and take their weight off.  "Well, now, we've got the rest of the day to do as we please.  If you need anything, something to eat perhaps, I'll be more than happy to fetch it from the kitchen."

"You'll do it?"  Olivia frowned.

"Where's Mrs. Judson?"  Mr. Flaversham asked.

"Oh, I gave her the rest of the day off!"  Basil smiled.  "She's visiting her family for today's holiday and she'll be back tomorrow.   No worries, heh, unless you wanted something liked a baked au gratin casserole, then you'll have to come back when she's here!"

"Well, what can you make?"  Olivia grinned at him.

"I can make...toast."  He mumbled.  "But, even that gets ruined in the toaster sometimes and Mrs. Judson gets upset over it."  Olivia covered her mouth, trying not to giggle too loudly.  "Hey, I'm a detective, not a cook!"  Olivia paused when he glared at her, but his gaze softened a little when the thought of burning toast was pretty pathetic.  "Forgive me, but it's true.  Dawson is no better than I when it comes to fixing a decent meal.  We'd probably starve without her."

"Or, end up penniless from dining out all the time."  Dawson said with a laugh and that made Basil ease up even more to the conversation.  And with mentioning Mrs. Judson, Dawson remembered something spoken from that morning.  "Oh, that reminds me, Basil, what was the surprise you and Mrs. Judson were talking about when--"

"Oh, that's right!"  Basil leapt from his chair as if a flame was lit underneath him.  "Come with me all into the kitchen!  There is something we can have for today, and it didn't require either of us to cook!"  The other three looked to one another and slowly followed the bouncing detective into the kitchen room.  The Flavershams had never seen this room before and it was much more tidier compared to the way Basil's foyer looked.  Mrs. Judson kept her kitchen looking clean and well organized.

"Is that for us?"  Dawson said as Basil pulled out a beautiful cake from the ice box and placed it on the small table.

"Indeed it is, doctor."  Basil lifted the glass case and smiled to the three.

For the first time ever, Mrs. Judson baked them a simnel cake, one that is often made traditionally for Mothering Sunday.  She followed a recipe accordingly, including a layer of almond paste, delicate fruit on top and eleven little balls of marzipan to represent the eleven apostles of Jesus, excluding Judas.  Breakfast was long gone and each felt their stomachs growling at the sight of this tasty-looking decadent that sat before them.  Basil took charge of Mrs. Judson's usual job by cutting and serving the cake while Dawson turned to get plates and forks out.

"It looks too beautiful to eat, Basil."  Olivia said, watching with hands on her cheeks and elbows on the table.

"Caring hands went into making this possible."  Basil replied while cutting a thin, moist slice.  "Everything Mrs. Judson does is beautiful in my eyes."  He smiled as he passed her a plate.  "There you go, my dear.  Take it to the next room, if you please.  If we make a mess in here, it'll be a fate worse than death, I can assure you."

"You don't say?"  Mr. Flaversham gasped.

"I do say, now hurry along."  Basil gestured him forward.

Each of them took their portion into the foyer and went to find places to sit down.  Dawson sat in his green chair while Mr. Flaversham borrowed the wood chair from Basil's work bench, leaving the last chair, the tall red leather one, unoccupied.  Olivia took her plate and sat down on it, hearing a throat clear above her.  She looked up to see Basil staring down at her, tapping his foot.

"Sorry!"  She quickly rose out of the chair and he sat down.

"Quite all right.  Now, then..."  He paused to see the others sitting and her still standing, looking to his lap, then to him sweetly.  "I'm going soft, I know it, I'm an old softy..."  Basil put his plate down on the end table and lifted her up to place her upon his knee.  "Now, then...comfy?"

"Yes."  She said, taking small bites of her cake.  "Thank you."

"Right."  He reached for his plate and shook his head in disbelief.  "Kids...So!  Tell me, my dear.  What have you and your father been up to lately?"  Olivia took a another bite and shrugged a little.

"Nothing much."  Was all she got out.

"That's nice.  Oh!!"  The sudden move almost sent Olivia off his knee, but he caught her.  "Sorry.  I simply must tell you both!  About a month ago, I had one of the most disgusting cases to date!  Fine time to explain it as we eat, I realize, but it's such a marvelous one to tell!"  He leaned forward with wide, excited eyes.  "Picture it, Dawson and I are traveling through the sewer systems of London, one of the worst stenches you can possibly imagine--"

"Oh, Basil, not that case."  Dawson droned.  "That was so dreadful.  My clothes smelled for weeks!"

"Yes, but you loved it, old boy!"  Basil smirked happily, looking back to Olivia.  "Now, as I was saying, we were treading along with filth, rubbish, foul and toxic drains all around us, searching in a desperate pursuit of a missing diamond that had only been missing a mere two days!  We uncovered the crooks hideout and the chase started right away down within the main sewer line.  Finding the diamond and the crooks in that maze of an underground sewer was like finding a needle in a haystack!"

"Oh, wow!"  Olivia said with interest.  "Did you find it?"

"But, of course!"  Basil said triumphantly.  "After a fierce battle with the crooks, we found the diamond, returned to the streets and restored the stolen property back to its rightful owner."

"And it only took us two hours and twenty-four minutes."  Dawson added.

"Only two hours?"  Olivia looked to Basil.

"That is correct!"  He beamed proudly.

"Wow."  She whispered.  "All I ever do during the day is go to school!  Just once I'd love to spend a day with you and Dr. Dawson!"

"No, I'm sorry, love, but I can't let you do that."  Basil pointed to her and lowered his tone in a concerned voice.  "These cases are far too dangerous for children.  I was surprised I let you talk me into accompanying Dawson and I on finding your father!"  Her wide, brown eyes looked very sad to him.  He squinted to that look.  "And that's what probably did it."

"Maybe you could let me come visit you after school?  Just to visit here, not go on a case?"  She suggested, still with her big brown eyes looking at him.

"Everyday?"  Basil mumbled, looking nervous.

"No, maybe on occasion, if I need help with a certain school subject, you're a genius when it comes to math and science problems."  Basil tried not to blush and merely nodded with a shrug.  "And you know, my ambition is to become a detective just like you!"

"Is it now?"  He asked, leaning back a little.  "Well, um, I suppose there's no harm in you visiting here...on occasion.  And yes, I am a bit of an expert with arithmetic and chemical equations and could assist you with that...on occasion."  He looked over to Mr. Flaversham for help.  "As long as it's okay with your father?"

Mr. Flaversham nodded.  "Oh, it's fine with me, Basil."

"And Dawson?"  Dawson was too busy munching and waved a hand as an answer.  "Uh.  Right.  Then, I suppose..."  He squinted.  "It's fine with me, too."

"Oh, thank you, Basil!"  Olivia leaned in and hugged him.  Basil rolled his eyes and looked to Dawson with gritted teeth.  His friend was no help by a mere smile and shrug.  Pulling back, she put her fork on her plate and started to climb down.  "Is it all right if I can get some juice?"

"Be my guest."  He said in a tiresome sound of voice.  When she left the room, he looked to Dawson again.  "And where was your input during this vote?"

"Well, it would have been fine with me, too, Basil."  He smiled.

"Of course, of course."  Basil nodded, feeling a little alone with this.  He paused to see Olivia returning to the room with no glass of juice in her hands.  At first, he feared she heard them talking, but when she held up an object in her hand, he knew something else was up.

"Basil, what's this?"  Basil put his plate back on the table as she approached his chair and passed him an envelope with a note attached to it.  Gasping, he leaned in to read the note not once, but twice:

Mr. Basil,
I found this on the floor near your bookshelf and didn't want you to lose it.  Thank you for giving me the day off.  I will see you and Dawson in the morning!

Mrs. Judson

"Where did you find this?"  Basil asked softly, still staring at the note and envelope.

"It was sitting by the bread box in the corner.  Why?  What is it?"

Dawson leaned forward with interest.  "I say, Basil, is that the letter?"

"Yes, Dawson.  This is it.  She must have found it while cleaning and left it in the kitchen before leaving...oh, Mrs. Judson, thank goodness!"  Basil covered his eyes briefly, sighing a breath of relief.

"What is it?"  Olivia asked again, leaning over the arm of the chair.

"This..."  Basil shook his head and swallowed hard.  Regaining composure, he looked down to her.  "This is a letter my mother wrote to me during my college years.  It..."  He paused and swallowed again.  "It's one of the last things I have from her.  I thought I lost it earlier this morning, but no, it was simply misplaced."  Olivia watched him slowly pull the letter out and unfold it to read aloud.

To my dearest son,
I have received word of your high honors at Oxford and wanted to personally congratulate you on your incredible success.  Nothing makes me more proud to hear such glorious news, and I know you will achieve to great heights in whatever career you choose.   Your father and I will see you on graduation night.  Take care of yourself until then.

Basil put the letter down on his lap and took in a deep breath.  The room became very still and quiet with only the sound of the clock ticking in the background.   Olivia watched him closely, blinking with tears in her eyes.

"Are you all right?"  She asked him.

"Very much so."  He replaced the letter in the envelope and stood up, patting the top of her head as he walked by.  "This could not have been a better gift to have found on this day."  Reaching his bookshelf, he pulled out the scrapbook, almost putting the envelope in it, but paused.  "No, I've lost it once, I don't want to lose it again."  Basil turned and placed the envelope in his robe pocket.  "I'm going to put this somewhere safe in my room later on."  Olivia approached him and looked to him with a smile.

"I'm glad you didn't lose your letter, Basil."

"Yes."  Basil placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded.  "Me too."

The Flavershams left not too long after that and Basil stayed up late to sit in his chair, looking over old photo albums.  The clock chimed 11 times when he looked up to realize he was alone in the foyer.  Dawson had long gone to bed, apparently bored after the trip down Basil's memory lane.  He flipped through one last book and then closed it carefully, moving one hand over the top of it.

"Turned out to be a good day after all."







In honor of Mother's Day, 5/13/07
The End