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Two Worlds...One Spirit, Pt. I

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Two Worlds...One Spirit

A Great Mouse Detective Pastiche

by mouselady


O tiny timorous forlorn beast,
O why the panic in thy breast?
Thou needst not dart away in haste
To some corn-rick;
I'd never run and chase thee
With murdering stick.

I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Hath broken nature's social union
And justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-bound companion
And fellow mortal!


~~~~from "To A Mouse" by Robert Burns
(Adapted by E. Grimes from the English translation)



Part I.

IT is very seldom that I myself write of my many adventures. Other than the notes I make in my
case book, these events are more typically recorded by my dear friend and associate, Dr. David Q.
Dawson. But while keeping in mind that Dawson is jotting down our cases for posterity, he does so
with a most irritating romanticism that, putting it mildly, makes me wince. But bless him, the good
doctor only means well.

It was not many months ago, however, that an extraordinary thing occurred in my life. Even Dawson has
not known of all its details; for I have preferred to keep it close to my heart, so deeply moved have I been
by its mystery. Yet the memory is far too precious not to be preserved in some manner for future generations;
it is thus that I, Basil of Baker Street, take pen in paw to chronicle the wondrous event that I now relate to
you...

************************

I was making one of my little pilgrimages through the sitting room of The Great Detective, Mr. Sherlock
Holmes. Dawson often accompanied me, mostly when we were out on a case. There were certain times,
however, that I preferred to be alone when roaming The Master's flat, and so I was on this particular
afternoon. It was normally anything but a mistake; yet I must sometimes be reminded that even I can
make mistakes.

Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson had gone out earlier that day---presumably on a case. I wished somehow
that I could have gone with them; yet I was glad they were away for the time being, for I had ample
opportunity to collect souvenirs from their sitting room: samples of The Master's handwriting, snips of
cloth and fiber from his garments, pieces of his violin strings. Some days when I felt exceptionally bold,
I would even snatch bits of Mr. Holmes' pipe tobacco and anything else that looked tempting---sure that
it would not be missed. This was not to say that I cared for everything of The Master's; one day I sampled
from his snuff-box, and suffered such violent fits of sneezing that ever after I steered quite shy of that
thing.

As always, I kept careful watch for sign of any humans. Mrs. Hudson, Mr. Holmes' housekeeper, was
a particular threat. Like most human females, she loathed mice and would certainly not welcome my
presence in her home. Fortunately, she was busy at her housecleaning, and in another room. I had also
trained Toby, Mr. Holmes' basset hound (who often helped on my cases) to be lookout and bark loudly
if anyone approached the sitting room. And so, I felt quite confident as I went about my collecting---
perhaps, too confident.

I had been happily busy at my little "treasure hunt" for some time, with no hint of trouble, when my
eye fell upon a shiny object lying on the hearth. I jumped down to inspect it more closely, and saw to
my delight that it was a cuff-link with the initials S.H. inscribed upon it---The Master's own cuff-link!

My arms were already quite full of my other trophies, but this was the most wonderful find of all---
for it came from Mr. Holmes' own person. I began to reach for it, but hesitated...most certainly he
would need and miss his cuff-link. Yet how desperately I wished to carry off this relic of Mr. Holmes!
But as I stood pondering the matter, I was startled to hear Toby's barking---and I froze as I heard the
thud of a bucket on the floor, and the sound of Mrs. Hudson's voice!

"Toby, be quiet!" she said sharply. "Whatever are you barking about? Out with you, now, like a good
dog!"

Drat! I had been so fascinated by my little discovery that I had become careless...and Toby's warning
had come too late!

As Mrs. Hudson pushed Toby out of the front door, I dropped my scraps and rushed under a chair.
Hoping that it was now safe, I made a mad dash across the floor in search of my secret entrance. But
at that precise moment, Mrs. Hudson turned from the door---just in time to see me.

"Mouse!! Mouse!!" shrieked the housekeeper. She grabbed a broom and beat at me with it, and I
could hear Toby whimpering and scratching at the door as I ran frantically around the room, desperate
to avoid being executed by Mrs. Hudson. I finally scrambled up the back of Mr. Holmes' armchair and
leapt into its seat, then ran across it and jumped from one of the arms---to discover too late that Mrs.
Hudson had left her cleaning bucket directly below.

Splash!  I squeaked with shock as I plunged into the water, which mercifully was cool. I quickly fought
my way to the surface and tried to climb out; but the bucket was too slippery for my paws to grip its
sides, and I fell back in. Spluttering and feeling weak, I struggled to stay afloat, but went under once
again. As I came back up, I noticed I was getting weaker, and having to fight harder to keep from
sinking...then I realised with horror that my own woolen cape, heavy with water, was about to drag me
down to the depths.

"Help!!!"  I cried out. "Toby! Dawson! Someone, help!" But who could help me? Toby was outside,
and Dawson was back in my flat! Just then, I heard the opening of a door, the sound of men's voices,
and Toby barking frantically. At that, I cried out even louder, though I didn't know what good it would
do. I was only a mouse---why should these humans care if I drowned?

My entire life began to pass before me; as I recalled all the dangerous adventures I had faced and
survived, my heart sank. Was this how Basil of Baker Street was to end his days:  drowned like a
rat in a dirty cleaning bucket?

I choked out a final desperate squeak for help, and I heard Toby's barking coming closer. Suddenly,
there was the shadow of someone tall and thin leaning toward the bucket, but I no longer saw or heard
anything as the water closed over my head for the last time...

****************************

I have little memory of what passed after that horrible moment, and I shudder even now as I recall it.
I only remember darkness, and silence. Then I heard faintly, as if in a dream, Toby whimpering...and
familiar voices...

"Well, what have we here?"

"You see, Mr. Holmes? I told you there were mice in this house!"

I felt someone holding me and gently prodding at me, as if searching for a pulse. But though I could
barely sense what was happening, I could not move. Then I heard the voice of Dr. Watson, giving (as
I thought) a sympathetic grunt.

"He's drowned, poor little chap. I'll just toss him out in the garden; Mrs. Hudson won't want to
touch him...but what's the matter, Toby?"

At the doctor's words, Toby had begun howling for the dead (the dead??! Oh, ghastly thought!).
But then, Mr. Holmes spoke.

"Why, Watson; would you have dismissed one of your own patients so easily? The creature's got a
spark of life in him yet."

I felt a large cloth wrapped around me, and someone gently but firmly rubbing me down. Suddenly, I
coughed and sputtered, then took a blessed gulp of air. My life had been saved! I could hear Toby's
happy barking as I opened my eyes...and I squeaked with surprise and alarm as I looked up into the
face of Sherlock Holmes!

I had never been that close to a human being in all of my life, and I must reluctantly admit that I was
most petrified. For all the respect and admiration I held for Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, they were
still humans---and I had learned never, ever to trust a human. Needless to say, my first instinct was
one to run away, but I was too feeble to even crawl at the moment. I could only lie helplessly and
stare up at Mr. Holmes, who was smiling at me.

"Now, now, don't be frightened---I won't hurt you," he said. "See there, Watson? He's very alive."
I shuddered as Mr. Holmes began to stroke my head and back.

"Careful there, Holmes," Watson said, laughing. "He might bite you!"

I gave a faint but indignant squeak to protest that I would most assuredly never bite Mr. Holmes,
even if my life depended on it. But exhausted from fear and my near brush with death, I fainted
while still in The Master's hand.


******************

When my eyes opened again, I found myself in strange surroundings. There was a mild aroma of
tobacco, and another of hot tea and freshly-baked bread---all very pleasant. As I glanced around,
my bleary vision could only see something white and fluffy...clouds, perhaps? Was this Heaven?
Yes, it must be...I could think of nothing I had done to earn the trip there, but I didn't intend to
argue the point.

Then as I came to my senses, I realised I was lying in a tobacco box filled with cotton, covered by
a tea towel---and definitely still on earth. The box had been set by the hearth, close to where Mr.
Holmes and Dr. Watson were sitting. I felt toasty warm and dry...and naked.

"Where are my clothes???" I exclaimed in horror. Obviously, someone had removed all of my wet
clothing (I was sure it hadn't been Mrs. Hudson). But I had no idea of where it was, and hoped it
hadn't been discarded---Inverness capes hardly came cheap.

"Well, look who's awake," said Mr. Holmes, leaning slightly over my box. Forgetting that I wasn't
naked to human eyes, I quickly hid under the tea towel, blushing to the very tip of my tail. As I warily
poked my head out, I could see Mrs. Hudson bringing the men their evening tea. She blanched at the
very sight of me, and frowned at Mr. Holmes.

"With all due respect, Mr. Holmes," she declared, "you quite mystify me at times. Imagine a grown
man making such a fuss over a measly little rodent!"

Dr. Watson chuckled. "But Mrs. Hudson," he put in, "perhaps what we have here is no ordinary
rodent."

"Rubbish!" the housekeeper snapped. "All mice are alike in my book! They're vermin, Dr. Watson---
filthy little creatures who rob our pantries and spread disease! You of all people should know that.
And there you are, Mr. Holmes, coddling that thing. Why, the wretched little beast has no doubt
bred a sizeable family within these very walls!"

Of course, she could not have known that 'the wretched little beast' could understand human
language, and that her every word was like a cruel dagger in my heart. Moreover, I had bred no
family of any size---nor was I the robber, the disease-carrier, that she claimed me to be. 'Filthy
little creatures' ? How little these humans understood us!

Oh, black day! I could bear being stripped of my clothing; but now I had been stripped of my dignity
as well. To be so harshly censured, with all of my kind---and by The Master's own housekeeper!

I lay huddled under the towel, crushed and bewildered---wishing that I had drowned in that bucket
after all. But to my surprise, I heard Mr. Holmes gently reproving his landlady.

"The mouse has done no harm, Mrs. Hudson," he said quietly, "nor do I believe he shall. Most
likely he was someone's pet; one can see how docile he is. No harm in giving him a chance."

Mrs. Hudson sighed. "Very well, Mr. Holmes...enjoy your little pet all you like. Just keep him away
from me, if you please." As she walked back to her kitchen, I could hear her muttering something
about never understanding Mr. Holmes if she lived to be 100.

I stared incredulously at The Master, overwhelmed and humbled by his words. Not only had he saved
my life, but he had actually defended me! I had always thought of Mr. Holmes as my friend; now,
hearing his kind words, I knew it for certain.

But when one of the men offered me a bit of cheese, I was still weary and despondent and could not eat.
I had swallowed a good deal of water, which did my stomach no good; I was equally sickened as I thought
of my own carelessness, which quite literally would have been the death of me.

"Not ready for food, are you?" Mr. Holmes said to me. "Well, we shan't worry about that for now."

That suited me perfectly, and I went back to sleep, resolving to be more cautious in future---even if
it meant tying a bell around Toby's neck.

When I awoke later that evening, I glanced up to see an eyedropper filled with milk, and Mr. Holmes
holding it. Just let me sleep, I thought miserably. But The Master was most insistent this time, and
gently nudged my mouth with the dropper.

"You must take something, little fellow," he urged. There was a certain sadness in his voice that did
not escape me; I was anxious now to please him, and so I raised up weakly and licked off a drop of
milk. It was warm with a hint of brandy, and tasted marvelous! I eagerly took the rest of the milk,
then settled comfortably under my towel, feeling stronger now and more at ease with my situation.

I listened as Mr. Holmes discussed a recent case with Dr. Watson. I had eavesdropped on their
conversations often, but always in secret; this time I had a seat in the orchestra, as it were, and
was glad to take full advantage of it. Toby sat close by, wagging his tail whenever our eyes met.
He may not have been an efficient watchdog, but he had aided Mr. Holmes in saving my life.

"Good boy, Toby," I whispered, smiling.

Then Mr. Holmes picked up his violin and softly played a piece by Mendelssohn, which I enjoyed
very much. But when it came time for both men to retire, I was most surprised when Mr. Holmes
carried me, box and all, to his own room.

"I'd best not leave you alone; poor Mrs. Hudson's had enough of a scare," he explained with a
wry smile.

So have I, I thought grimly. Yet I was heartened in spite of myself, that the man I admired most
in all the world was giving me such careful attention---even going so far as to place my box upon
his dressing table. I myself was quite puzzled at his obvious concern; but I was too weary to ponder
over it just yet. Warmed by the brandied milk and the unaccustomed human kindness, I fell asleep
again, feeling safe and well cared for.

The next morning I was feeling much better, and very hungry. The box had been placed back
in the sitting room, where the men were having breakfast; and Mr. Holmes seemed quite pleased
when I devoured a bit of egg and a good-sized piece of buttered toast. There was even a thimble
full of cambric tea. I missed my bone china teacup back at my own flat, and the strong tea which
would have filled it; for now, however, I was very happy to be sharing breakfast with Mr. Holmes.

But as the day wore on, I found myself thinking of home. Poor Dawson would surely be worried
about my long disappearance, though he was no longer a stranger to my odd comings and goings.
My experiments were being neglected; perhaps important cases had come to my own doorstep,
and Dawson had likely turned them away---for he never felt capable of solving them without
me.

I wished now that I had not thought of all that, and I grew restless and fretful---I had to return to my
flat somehow. It would be quite easy to jump out of the tobacco box, during the night perhaps---and
find a way back to my secret passage. Yet Mr. Holmes seemed so glad for my company, unless it
was wishful thinking...and I felt that he would be most disappointed if I were to leave him. Certainly
I was needed in my own world; but perhaps The Master needed me also...though I could not imagine
why.

I paced around in my box, frustrated with my divided loyalties. I longed for home, and all that had
been familiar to me. Yet something seemed to be holding me back, something more than my affection
for Mr. Holmes. But what?

Indeed, I could leave The Master's flat. But how could I leave The Master?



End Part I



Return to Basil's Pastiche Parlour
This is my first EVER Great Mouse Detective submission to DeviantART---but it won't be my LAST!!! ;)

This story was written back in 2003, and completed by Christmas of that year. Though much of it is original work, little bits of it were inspired by the following children's books: Rabbit Hill (I forgot the author) and The Mouse of Amherst by Elizabeth Spires; a fanfic by Cybra, "After the Falls" was also slightly at my elbow. :)

There's an intriguing---and somewhat chilling---story behind the completion of this work, and some of you are already familiar with it. About a night or two before Christmas 2003, I was struggling to finish the final chapter of TWOS. I was tired, and somewhat nervous, and afraid I couldn't finish the story in that frame of mind. Then I remembered something the late, great Oscar Wilde once said---that if you only write when you feel like it, you're not a real writer (okay, something to that effect). Oscar should know, having written his famous De Profundis while sick and in prison.

With this in mind, I thought: Oscar, if you're in Heaven, pray for me.

And this is where it gets weird: a suddenly feeling of peace washed over me, and as I wrote the words just seemed to FLOW from my fingers. It was almost as if Oscar himself were guiding them! ^^; The story was finished, and I felt very happy---and grateful to God and my beloved poet, whom I consider my personal patron saint of writing. :)


If you've ever wondered what would happen if Basil actually got to MEET his human mentor, you're about to find out. Here in Part I,
Basil wanders through The Master's house collecting little goodies to take back to his flat---but is about to get more than he expected. ;)


UPDATE: For some insane reason I put restrictions on faving this awhile back. I can't remember why, but whatever the reason was, it's no longer a big deal. So fave away!!! :bow:
© 2005 - 2024 mouselady
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StephVanDyke's avatar
:star::star::star::star::star-half: Overall
:star::star::star::star::star-empty: Vision
:star::star::star::star::star: Originality
:star::star::star::star::star: Technique
:star::star::star::star::star: Impact

This was awesome to read! I loved the way how you wrote it and also starting with a poem. The story was amazing! I loved the idea of Basil meeting Holmes, since I've heard that he idolized him. This has actually inspired me, for being a writer. I couldn't find anything wrong with the story, it was picture perfect! I could actually imagine the actors from the Sherlock Holmes movies taking the roles and comparing it to the Disney movie. I've been thinking of writing something similar to this by the way. I loved the story and congratulate you. EXCELLENT!