A Tangled Web Ch. 1

A Tangled Web

London, 1891

The streets of London were bustling with activity. Some, dressed in their finest clothing, headed off to the theater or a nice restaurant for a relaxing evening out, while others hurried home after a long day of work. Some called out greetings to one another, the gentlemen tipping their hats to the ladies. If they had bothered to look downward, they might have noticed the world at their feet as even the mice scurried along, eager to enjoy an evening out. But the mice always went about their business cautiously to avoid being seen by their human counterparts as well as any cats that may be prowling about the streets and alleyways.

But one mouse seemed oblivious to all other pedestrians as he made his way down the sidewalk. Basil Brettman, a young 23 year old male with brown fur with light tan markings on his underside, was lost in thought as he made his way through the crowd. However he was soon brought back to reality as he was nearly crushed by a human foot. Thankfully he was able to jump out of the way fast enough to avoid being flattened. He shook his head and grumbled in annoyance as he picked up his fallen deerstalker cap, though he made sure to remain more alert for the remainder of his journey. But as he turned the corner onto Baker Street, the crowd thinned out and he was finally alone, and so he fell deep into thought again.

Basil was quite a mystery. Some knew him as the bright young student who was always conducting strange experiments in the lab at the university. Some knew him as the son of the late Richard Brettford, one of the most famous and successful Chief Inspectors that Scotland Yard had ever had. It seemed that Basil had inherited his father's extreme intelligence, and he was quickly earning a name for himself as Mousedom's first and only consulting detective. People often came to him when some matter was too delicate to bring to the police, and he had already solved a number of private investigations himself. The newest Inspector, a young mouse named Thomas Grayson, took note of Basil's success; and though they butted heads on occasion and developed a sort of rivalry between themselves, he saw Basil as a valuable ally to the Yard and often consulted with him.

In fact, Basil had just accompanied the Inspector to the scene of another crime. Harper's Jewelry store had been robbed late last night, and thousands of pounds worth of gold and jewelry was missing. Sadly, it was becoming a familiar sight, as this was not the first theft of late.

Four robberies in the past two weeks, Basil thought to himself, reviewing the facts in his head and ticking off each point with his fingers. Jewels stolen… forced entries through a window… the same footprints at each location, particularly the one with the distinct limp from a peg leg… The robberies must be connected. And this… he dug in the pocket of his Inverness coat and pulled out a small torn scrap of paper he had found at the scene of the crime. The address of the jewelry store was written in a scrawling hand as if the culprit had written it as a reminder as to his target's location, then dropped it while he carried out his task. It could be a vital clue, Basil thought, or have no significance whatsoever. Curious pattern… He turned the paper over and examined the intricate golden pattern along the edges. If he could figure out what the larger whole of the paper consisted of, then perhaps it would give some clue as to the perpetrator. He hastened his steps toward home, eager to examine the piece of evidence beneath the microscope for further clues.

When Basil finally reached the door at 221 ½ B Baker Street, he dug in his pocket absentmindedly as he still studied the paper. Once inside, he didn't look up as he shrugged out of his coat and tossed it along with his deerstalker cap onto a bronze suit of armor off to the side, then skipped the two steps down into the sitting room and rushed to the chemistry table over in the corner. It was then that he caught the scent of roses and heard a soft chuckle behind him. "You always were in a hurry," he whirled around at the voice and was surprised to see a female sitting in his own favorite red armchair, looking at him with a sly smile. "If you don't slow down, you might miss something."

"Well, I-I uh…" he stammered, rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed to have been caught off guard.

"I know, I know," she laughed, holding up her hands. "'The game's afoot!' Working on a case, then?"

"Yes…" Basil answered, regarding her cautiously while quickly deducing what he could about her. She was American, judging by her accent, with light brown fur and long brown hair pulled up behind her head with a few stray curls framing her face. She wore a long sleeved pale rose bustle dress, a matching reticule resting in her lap, and neatly laced up light gray boots. A client, most likely. While he was always eager at the prospect of a new case and hated turning anyone away, he also did not wish to interrupt his current investigation. "My apologies, Miss, but I have important business to attend to…"

"Too busy to chat with an old friend?" the lady asked, pouting playfully. Seeing Basil's blank expression, she cocked her head to the side and raised one eyebrow. "Oh, come on, Bas, surely you haven't forgotten your old pal Charlie?"

Basil froze in place and stared at the lady. No one had addressed him by that nickname since his childhood… but surely this couldn't be the same little girl he remembered…?

"Charlotte?" he asked incredibly. "Charlotte Hampton?"

"You do remember!" she laughed cheerfully, rising to greet him.

"How could I forget?" he chuckled, walking over to her, a bit surprised to find that he was thrilled to see her again. Her mother, who was American, had passed away when she was very young, so she was raised by her British father, an extremely talented and renowned musician. She and her father lived in New York, her mother's hometown, but returned to London every summer until she was 9 years old, when Mr. Hampton passed away from tuberculosis. Then she had been sent back to America to live with an aunt.
"Remember all those races across the park?" Charlotte asked, breaking his thoughts.

Basil smiled fondly at the memory. "Seems like we ran everywhere we went. Always a competition."

"Yep, and I won every time," Charlotte said with a smirk.

"The fastest runner in all of Mousedom," Basil laughed. She chuckled, a melodious sound. She always brightened a room with her presence. "It's a pleasure to see you again," Basil remarked a bit shyly.

"You too," Charlotte replied, looking up at him through long dark eyelashes.

They both paused for an awkward moment, happy to see the other after so many years, but too embarrassed to embrace. They were grown adults now, so much different as they had been when they were children. Basil finally extended his right hand, and Charlotte took it, blushing slightly. Basil could feel his own cheeks burning and quickly withdrew, clearing his throat nervously.

"I-It's been a while, hasn't it?" he remarked, making an attempt at conversation. He had been ten years old, and she eight, when they last met; which meant she could be no older than twenty one now.

"It has," Charlotte agreed. She grinned mischievously. "And it looks like you finally hit your growth spurt!" she teased, looking up at him with twinkling golden brown eyes. They laughed good-naturedly, as Basil recalled how she had always been the taller one. Now he was a good two or three centimeters taller than she. He smiled fondly at the memories with his childhood friend.

"And you, um… y-you're looking well," he stammered, making an awkward attempt to give her a compliment.

She smiled, those golden brown eyes twinkling with merriment, and gave a short laugh. "Ugh, I'm an absolute mess," she replied, rolling her eyes and blowing a strand of hair out of her face before tucking it behind her ear. "Traveling sure can take a lot out of a girl. So… I hear you're working with Scotland Yard these days. Solving cases, catching bad guys."

Basil blanched, recoiling at the thought of being associated with those bungling idiots of the Yard. "Eh, not exactly," he answered. "They consult with me when they're out of their depth. Which is most of the time," he added under his breath.

"Aw, well your parents must be proud, especially your dad," she remarked quite innocently though it caused Basil to stiffen suddenly. "How are they, by the way? And your siblings, Bryna and Byron?"

Basil stood silent for a moment, a bit lost for words and struggling to keep his emotions at bay. The subject of his parents was an exceedingly difficult topic for him, and he rarely spoke of what had happened; which is why he was always caught off guard when someone did bring it up. He had to swallow the lump in his throat before attempting to reply.

"They um… m-my parents…" He couldn't even bring himself to say the words.

Charlotte gasped quietly as the truth dawned on her. She knew firsthand what it was like to lose someone so dear as both of her parents were also deceased. "Oh Basil, I'm so sorry," she said, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I-I had no idea…"

"No, it's… it's quite alright," he replied quietly. He cleared his throat and tried to smile. "Bryna and Byron are doing well. Bryan is married now and expecting her first child. Byron still works for the government; secret service or something, not really sure. He's very vague about it of course. Um… so how have you been? I see you're a secretary at the famous British Museum, though I had hoped you were able to live out your dream of being a prima donna in Paris."

She started in surprise when he deduced her occupation, and simultaneously was touched that he remembered her childhood dream. She smiled slyly, arching an eyebrow and regarding him with interest. "You're doing that thing again… that parlor trick."

"No trick," he insisted, blushing slightly. "Mere observation."

"Better be careful with those keen senses of yours," she joked. "Some people might not take too kindly to your 'observations.'"

"You've no idea," Basil replied, recalling some of the angry responses he'd received as a result of his deductions.

"Well, you're right," Charlotte admitted, giving a small smile. "I'm the secretary for Professor Daniel Jefferies, the curator of the British Museum of Natural History. Speaking of which… I'm afraid this isn't an entirely social visit. I'm acting on behalf of Mr. Jefferies because he is too busy today to call in person, but it is a matter of the most importance." She shrugged her shoulders. "But I didn't know that you were in the midst of a case, so I can come back at a more convenient time…"

"Oh no, no trouble at all," Basil said, shaking his head. But he did need to get back to his original investigation of the jewelry store thefts. "I just need to finish examining this piece of evidence, and then I'd be happy to assist you."

"Are you sure?" she asked doubtfully.

"Of course!" Basil said with a smile.

Charlotte looked down at the floor and blushed slightly, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Well, thank you. I appreciate it."

As Basil went back to work examining the evidence, Charlotte sat back down in the red chair and looked about the flat. She smiled to herself, feeling pity for his poor landlady as the room was a complete mess, with newspapers and other documents scattered on the floor, and various articles of clothing thrown about, some threw across the back of the green chair opposite her and on the banister by the door, some hanging half in and half out of a drawer in the corner.

She watched the detective with interest as he bent over scrutinizing his clue, wrinkling his brow in concentration. She smiled to herself, remembering his microscope they played with as children to examine everything from leaves to bugs to strands of hair or fur. Curious, she walked over and glanced over his shoulder.

"Any luck?" she asked inquisitively.

"Not much," Basil replied, adjusting the focus on the instrument. "The paper is so small that it's difficult to learn anything of its origin. Though there is a faint trace of coal dust, and judging from this intricate golden pattern, I would say that it was probably expensive stationary."

"Like an invitation?" Charlotte ventured.

"Precisely!" Basil replied. "But an invitation to what?"

Looking up as Charlotte cleared her throat, his eyes grew wide as she pulled a paper from her reticule and held it up, her eyes sparkling with merriment. Forgetting his manners, Basil snatched the paper out of her hand and read it. It was an invitation to a gala being held for a new Egyptian exhibit that was to be unveiled at the museum at which Charlotte worked. The paper had the exact same pattern as the scrap Basil had found at the jewelry store.

"Look familiar?" she asked.

"Yes, but, how did the culprit get…Ah, that's it!" Basil exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement as he grabbed Charlotte's hand. "That's their next target! This recent string of robberies has been leading up to this, the grand finale, the ultimate heist!"

A grim expression crossed Charlotte's face. "Mr. Jefferies was afraid that something like this might happen. That's precisely why he sent me to you. Sure there will be plenty of security to guard the exhibit, but he asked that you might come to help prevent anything from happening in the first place. Now that we know someone is going to try to steal the jewels, we can prevent it before it happens!" She clasped her hands together in her excitement, and then paused embarrassedly. "Erm, that is if you'll take the case?"

How could he say no to those big brown orbs staring up at him? "I wouldn't miss it for the world," he replied with a roguish smile.

Charlotte's face lit up. "I knew I could count on you," she said.

Basil turned so she wouldn't see him blushing. "Well, perhaps we should pay a visit to your employer to discuss the matter--"

"Oh no," Charlotte exclaimed, causing Basil to turn back with a confused look. "I mean, Mr. Jefferies is very particular when it comes to his museum," she explained matter-of-factly. "That's part of the reason why he sent me to you instead of requesting your help in person. He wants to be as discrete as possible, and doesn't want anyone knowing that you'll be there as anything other than a guest. That means you'll be coming as my escort for the evening," she said with a wink. "I do hope you understand."

"O-Of course," he stammered. As she rose to leave, he felt a bit reluctant to see her go. "Won't you stay longer?"

She beamed another smile at him. "Of course I'd love to, but unfortunately I have a few more errands to run before going home, and it's getting late." As his face fell, she laid her hand on his shoulder again. "But we'll have all evening tomorrow to talk. We have a lot to catch up on." With a quiet chuckle, she regarded his disheveled appearance with a smile. "Now Bas, this is a black tie event, so please…" Her eyes swept across his wrinkled and un-tucked shirt and at his neck where the top two buttons were undone, exposing a small bit of his chest fur. "Do wear a jacket."

"You wear a jacket," he retorted with a smirk, crossing his arms.

She laughed merrily, shaking her pretty head. "You're always so stubborn."

As she was about to walk out the door, he called out, "Charlie?"

"Yes?"

"…It's really nice to see you again."

Charlotte beamed at him. "You too. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Now that she was gone, the room already seemed less bright without her presence. Lighting his pipe, Basil made his way back to his chair where she had sat. He could still smell the rose scent of her perfume. Memories of the past began to replay in his mind. He recalled all their childhood games, how her hair flew behind her as she ran like a deer down the street or in the backyard, how she helped him fight off imaginary monsters, refusing to play the damsel in distress. But most of all, he remembered that day all those years ago, the day she left; or rather, the day she was sent away.

After her father died, she was shipped back to America to live with another distant relative. They had huddled together under an umbrella, watching as a stern looking woman waited by the carriage that was to take his friend away from him. Charlie tried to remain brave, squaring her shoulders and keeping her head held high. But as she gripped his hand tightly, shivering from more than just the cold, he could feel the fear radiating off of her. He walked with her to the carriage, shielding her from the rain as best he could. When it was time to say goodbye, she suddenly threw her arms around his neck and clung to him desperately, whispering a soft goodbye in his ear. He swallowed hard, wanting to be strong for her but finding it incredibly difficult.

He wished he had been able to do something, anything, to help her. She was his best friend after all. Even though he was older, she had always been protective of him, defending him against bullies and such. And when she had needed him most, he had failed.

But she was back now, and he vowed he wouldn't let it happen again. As always, he was thrilled at the new turn his case had taken, but most of all he wanted to do all he could to help his old friend.
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