Basil's Weakness

Summary: I do not own Great Mouse Detective. It belongs to its respective owners. This is intended for entertainment purposes only.

The chapters that follow are nowhere near as long as this chapter.

As the sun faded away from the scenery of the London streets, I knew that there was only one mouse that would be awake at this time of night. Basil was always awake, and as far as I knew never slept…ever. Why I was awake at three a.m. is beyond me, but at that precise time, someone knocked on the door. And who else could it be but Basil…standing in the doorway covered in sweat from head to toe. He looked as though he was very nervous, and didn't say a word as he entered into my house.

"Basil? What's wrong," I asked because I feared for my friend's life.

He didn't answer me, and plumped down onto the sofa. His eyelids were heavy and he looked as though he was completely insane. He sat down and stretched his legs out on the sofa, which was a very unusual habit for someone as classy as Basil.

"My dear Dawson," he said wiping his forehead. "I come to you in a moment of weakness. You are the only one I trust."

I wondered what the devil Basil was talking about. He tended to get moody at times, but never once said the word "weakness." Weakness and the use of showing it was the complete opposite of Basil. His calculating mind didn't have time for such uses of weakness or emotions.

"I apologize for entering into your domicile like this, but I am in great need of your assistance," he said covering his eyes with his hands.

Then it dawned on me. Basil was a consumer of a type of narcotic. The narcotic, which I won't say due to the younger readers who may be reading this, sometimes caused him to have very realistic hallucinations. The drug or a "seven-per-cent solution," as Basil called it was the only way for Basil to escape the one thing he despised most: boredom. I was always in charge of taking care of Basil until his hallucinations went away. It seemed to me like his addiction had grown worse, and I knew that something must be done about it. However, reasoning with Basil seemed like an endless battle.

"Basil," I said covering his forehead with a wet rag that I had taken out of the kitchen.

"Hmm," he muttered without taking his hands off his face.

"Your endless cycle of addiction really needs to stop."

Basil nodded his head. I could tell that he could care less about half the words that were coming out of my mouth.

"I realize this Dawson, but sadly my addiction is the only thing that keeps me sane."

"Keeps you sane? Your hallucinations have caused you into a state of panic!"

"I'm sorry, but my mind repels at stagnation."

How could he be saying these things? The narcotic is what is causing his hallucinations in the first place. Basil's mind was something I didn't understand and don't understand to this very day. How can a great scientific mind like his be so consumed by a narcotic?

"I'm sorry for intruding Dawson, but it seems that we have a small problem," Basil said standing up.

"And what could that problem be," I said standing up as well.

Basil stared down at the floor. It seemed that he was coming back to his senses. His eyelids were still heavy, but I could tell that his gears of thought were in the middle of processing information. Like cogs in a wheel, Basil's brain was one of the most intrinsic devices I have ever seen. Finally, after pacing back and forth across the sitting room, he answered me.

"It seems that our old friend Ratigan is at it again."

Every time Basil said the wordRatigan, his eyes became very wide. The emphasis put upon Ratigan's name showed how much he despised the sewer rat. I thought however at what Basil had just told me. In my previous adventures with Basil, Ratigan had fallen off the top of Big Ben during a fight. Could he have survived, or was this another hallucination of Basil's?

"But Basil, Ratigan fell from-"

"My dear Dawson, you don't actually think he survived do you?"

At this moment in time, I felt as though my friend had really lost it. He began to pace around the room even faster than he had before. Basil was still under the influence of cocaine (pardon me for children saying this, but I felt I had to mention it). There was only one thing for me to do. I had to get Basil home at Baker Street right away. He, in his state, couldn't just go walking around the London streets alone. I had to think of a way to get him to calm down, and I had to think fast.

"Basil, let me take you back to Baker Street. You clearly are not in the right mind, and I fear that if you try to capture…Ratigan…then you yourself will surely get captured."

Basil stared at the floor once more. Suddenly, as if a light had been lit inside his head, Basil looked up at me with utmost embarrassment.

"I'm sorry my dear fellow…for the trouble I have caused you. It appears that you are right. I need to stop my addiction before it gets worse…please take me home doctor," he said as he covered his face with one hand and outstretched the other towards me.


I was glad to be back in the familiar room in which Basil did all of his work. Baker Street to me was like my second home. Since I had gotten married, I hadn't been to Baker Street in quite some time. The room smelled of cheese crumpets, chemicals, and smoke. Smoke is one thing that I didn't miss at all. Basil would smoke his pipe for hours on end just to try and solve one case. Anyway, inside 221 ½ Baker Street, Basil plopped down into his chair and began to play his Stradivarius violin. I could tell that he felt gloomy due to his playing. How was I ever going to convince Basil that his addiction was affecting not only his mental health, but his psychological health as well? Suddenly, Mrs. Judson entered the room.

"Dr. Dawson! I thought I heard you come in. It's so good to see you," she said embracing me in a hug.

"It's nice to see you as well," I said admiring Mrs. Judson's friendliness.

She and I looked over at Basil who was sitting in his chair playing an eerie tune on the violin. I turned toward Mrs. Judson who gave me a look of great worry.

"Could I speak to you in private Doctor," she whispered so soft that I had to get closer to her to hear.

She and I crept past Basil who, I think, had fallen asleep because his violin playing had ceased. We walked outside of the room as she slowly closed the door behind her.

"What's this about?"

"It's about Mr. Basil. I'm at great worry for him," Mrs. Judson said with tears in her eyes. Basil, at times, could get on her nerves but deep down I believe she cared for him.

"He's been very ill these past few days...using that horrid cocaine," she said. "Once or twice I caught him talking to imaginary people and especially an imaginary Ratigan."

When Mrs. Judson said Ratigan, she said it while looking around to make sure no one was watching us. This made me wonder if Ratigan really was still out there unfolding a ruthless plot to rule the world. Still, my mind came back to Basil who worried me every second. His brilliant mind was spoken so highly of by officers and other detectives. Not many people knew of his addiction. While I am writing this, let me make this clear that everything I say isn't confidential. It seems now that everyone is aware of Basil's addiction. This narrative will prove how they found out, but more on that later.

"I don't know what we are supposed to do," Mrs. Judson said wiping a tear from her eye.

"Let's just go back inside and try to at least reason with him."

So, with that, she and I went back inside and saw Basil asleep in his chair with the violin resting in his lap.

"Strange. He hardly ever sleeps," Mrs. Judson said covering him up with a blanket which surprised me that there was even a blanket in the room.

"Well I guess I should stay here and look after Basil especially in his condition," I said setting down my medical bag. "You just go back to bed Mrs. Judson, and I will take care of things."

"Oh thank you doctor," Mrs. Judson said leaving the room with a yawn.

From that moment on, I watched Basil's condition steadily grow worse. He would have nightmares in his sleep, and I would have to calm him down all through the night. Finally, around five a.m. Basil was sound asleep, and all the cocaine was out of his system…for now. He must have taken an immense dosage. Around six a.m. I fell asleep, and didn't want to be bothered, but around eight a.m. I felt a hand nudge my shoulder. I wearily opened my eyes and saw Basil hovering over me.

"Dawson," he whispered even though he was trying to wake me up. "You should really go now…I'm fine, and I have never felt better. Please, for your own sake, leave me in peace."

I believe the words, "leave me in peace," weren't the correct choice of words. Every time I left Baker Street, I never left Basil in peace. He was never at peace because he was always up and about trying to solve whatever mystery had been concocted that day. I didn't want to leave my friend but, my wife Mary was probably worried about me.

"All right Basil," I said rising from my chair and heading for the door. "But you must promise me to stay sane."

"Me? Stay sane," he said with a laugh. "I believe I can manage."

With that I went out the door. Worry still crept in my mind, but I tried to push it away. Basil could take care of himself. So, I went back to my home and saw that two officers were standing outside of it. Mary looked in a state of fear. I quickly ran toward her.

"Are you all right," I said glancing from her to the officers.

"Yes…I'm all right. It's just that I heard some sneaking around last night, and I wanted these two officers to look at the house."

She looked at me with her soft brown eyes. How I fell in love with her is no secret. When she was a client of Basil's, her father had hidden very priceless treasures. During the investigation, she quickly stole my heart. But anyway, the officers were looking at some footprints made in the garden bed. They said that an intruder had been by during the night.

"Oh dear! There was no intruder! It was my friend Basil. Basil of Baker Street!" I said this with the utmost confidence.

Mary looked at me with a small smile. She knew just how eccentric Basil was, and I knew that she was glad that there wasn't an intruder. Still, the two officers did not look amused. Basil was a bit of a rival to Scotland Yard and other detectives because he could solve cases quicker than they could. Finally, after a long silence, one of the officers spoke. He was a large mouse with a grim face, and his uniform looked too small for him.

"Are you a cocaine user, Dr. Dawson," he said.

I felt a lump in my throat.

"What does that have to do with the intruder?"

"Well…nothing, except we found traces of it in this garden here."

How in the world was I going to explain that it wasn't Basil who had left it there? He told me never to tell a soul about his cocaine addiction. I believe he was ashamed of it, and wanted to keep it a secret. After all, it was his business.

"Yes…I use cocaine sometimes for medical reasons. In fact, Basil came over the other night to give me some."

The officers took some notes and nodded. Then, they walked away. Something didn't feel right about the officers. But I had other problems to worry about because Mary was looking harshly in my direction.


That night, I was busy reading up on drug addictions and medicinal applications when Mary tapped me on the shoulder.

"Something has me worried," she said with a frown. "I believe that you lied to the officers today. You never use cocaine for practice."

I felt that I had been caught. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't lie to her…ever.

"All right Mary you're right. I did lie."

"Why? I mean I know that Basil is a bit strange but why would he give you cocaine?"

This time I knew I had to tell her. There was no hiding it anymore.

"Basil came here for medical assistance. He overdosed on cocaine, and probably dropped some of it while he was in our garden last night."

Mary's mouth had hung open. I couldn't tell if she was mad, glad, or sad. She just stood there trying to figure out what to say to me.

"Basil was under the influence of cocaine? Has he ever been before?"

"Oh…yes. More times than I can count. He needs me to help him with the effects of it…you see he needs it to-"

I was interrupted.

"I don't care! You aren't his personal doctor! You can't just wait on him hand and foot for his need of cocaine. He needs to stop taking it!"

"I realize that my dear, but you must swear to me that you will not speak of his addiction to a soul. Basil wishes it to be a secret."

Mary stared down at the floor. She looked as if she wanted to hit me across the face.

"All right dear. But I still think he needs to quit."

"So do I dear, so do I," I said as I took her hand and kissed it.

As Mary left the room, I couldn't help but think about Basil. Any second now I felt as though he would knock on the door again, and I would have to put up with his addiction once more.

That night, I kept hearing noises outside the house. It couldn't be Basil, it just couldn't. I woke from my bed and grabbed my robe. As soon as I looked out of the window, my eyes laid upon Mrs. Judson. She looked worried. I quickly opened the door, and saw that she had tears in her eyes. My heart began to beat very fast. Something was wrong.

"What is it Mrs. Judson," I asked as I put a hand on her shoulder.

"It's…it's Mr. Basil, sir."


"He…he's gone!"

This is the worst thing that I could have ever imagined. Basil, in his condition, has gone missing, and who knows what trouble he could get into! The first thing I asked Mrs. Judson was if she had seen him before he disappeared. She said that when she awoke he was gone. My thoughts were racing. How on earth was I going to find Basil? While I was thinking, there was a commotion going on in the streets. Mrs. Judson and I ran down the street to see what the commotion was all about. Then I heard it. I heard the unmistakable voice of Basil shouting at a crowd of people!

"You're hiding him from me! Tell me where Ratigan is!"

Basil was standing on top of a whiskey barrel with an umbrella in his hand. I'm guessing he thought it was a sword? (Your guess is as good as mine). He swung it high over his head ready to attack.

"You're crazy," a townsperson said.

"Is that Basil of Baker Street," said another.

I had to stop him. It was only a matter of time before his secret was revealed. Just then, a few of Scotland Yard detectives including Inspector Lestrade showed up.

"Dr. Dawson, do you have an explanation for his behavior," he asked.

At this point, Basil was poking his umbrella at people, so I was at a loss for words.

"I know what's wrong with him," I heard a familiar voice say. Everyone looked and saw a huge mouse covered in a black cloak. His face was covered, so no one could see it.

"What's the matter old bean? Had a little too much cocaine," he said with a laugh.

Basil turned around to face the mysterious mouse, but he was hit with a splash of water from a bucket someone had in the crowd. The shock and rush of the water knocked him to the ground. When he wiped his eyes, he looked up at everyone with a look of sadness and embarrassment on his face. The mysterious cloaked fellow had disappeared, but it didn't matter. I could tell that Basil wasn't hallucinating anymore. He had come back to reality, and his spirit was broken. His greatest secret was now out in the open.

"Basil, you are under arrest for public endangerment and attempt of violence," one of the detectives said.

Basil's head hung low, and as I walked over to him, he wouldn't look me in the eye. His greatest secret, the one I swore to protect was now out in the open. However, I believe that mysterious mouse in the cloak was somehow responsible.