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Description
The trip to America had been long and restless for Basil. The first ship he had found bound for America was an uncomfortable cargo ship. He didn't care, he climbed a rope and snuck aboard, spending the entire trip across the Atlantic among crates and barrels. Some of the rats aboard the ship were pleasant to talk to, but Basil could really only think about one thing. Ratigan was alive, in Green River, was terrorizing the Flavershams, and was within the same city limits as Nellie Brie.

Basil had taken Nellie's letter with him. He wished he could have run some tests on it before he so hastily bolted out the door. It was type-written, meaning anyone could have written it. The parchment and the ink matched the qualities of Nellie's other letters from all he could tell without his chemical set, but it still didn't rule out every negative possibility surrounding it. Could Nellie have already been captured? Was she forced to write the P.S. on the other side? Was he walking straight into a trap? These thoughts insured that he'd be getting very little sleep until the moment he arrived in this quaint little mining town.

When Basil arrived in Boston he did some shopping around for disguises and other things he might need, and from there, disguised as a lone cowboy returning home and doing his best to mask his British accent, he quickly boarded a train heading out west. It was a four day journey from there, and one that aside from having an actual seat to sit and sleep in, with food, was little more comfortable when he had the worries on his mind that he'd had the entire trip. He'd been rereading all of Nellie's letters, trying to make sense of it all, when finally at long last he heard the conductor call:

"Green River, next stop is Green River! It will be a short stop, do not disembark unless this is where you're getting off!"

Basil threw the curtain over the window back to see if this was indeed the right place. Outside was a desert, with cacti, red mesas and cliffs; a thin, green gulch in the distance where the river was. The sky was a reddish pink. It was sunset. Basil hastily gathered his belongings. This had to be the right place. Finally, some answers.

Outside in the punishing Utah heat, Nellie Brie sat on a bench underneath a larger human-sized one, reading a mystery novel, her absolute favorite genre of course. The station wasn't very crowded. It never was, despite Waul and Ratigan's efforts to increase tourism in the town.

She soon began to hear the low rumble of an approaching train. After waiting so long she'd grown accustomed to the disappointment of not seeing Basil step off, or to see no one stepping off at all. This would be the last train until tomorrow, so she placed a bookmark in her book and watched down the railroad tracks.

This time when it stopped, however, she saw a single mouse step out from the mouse car underneath the train, in a wide-brimmed black Stetson hat, a matching black button-up shirt with denim pants and a gun at his hip, with a cigar sticking out beneath a thick mustache, carrying a suitcase. Her ears perked up and her heart jumped.  Could it be? Was it Basil?

After looking around the mouse spotted her, and hastily walked toward her.

"Howdy, Nellie," he said in his best attempt at a Texas accent, "Your cousin Slim's come all the way back from Dallas to see ya, once I heard you was in Green River. Boy howdy, ain't seen you in a coon's age. How've ya been?"

Basil gave a wink. Nellie knew it was him, raising an eyebrow and wanting to ask where he thought up that ridiculous name and accent. She stood up from the bench.

"Oh Slim, I feel like it's been forever," she played along, before pulling him in for a tight hug, causing him to drop his suit case, "I've missed you so much these past few years…"

Though acting in case any of Ratigan's underlings were spying on them, Nellie's hug was entirely genuine. She rested her head against his chest, fighting back tears, as Basil slowly wrapped his arms around her in return.

"Aw shucks, I had to come as soon as I got your letter," Basil said softly, but in his Texan accent, "And from now on you can bet we won't ever be far apart again."

Nellie wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sniffed a little. She hated having to hold back her emotions during a moment she'd dreamt of for four years. But, she knew the real greeting would need to wait until they were someplace less public.

"Come with me to my apartment," she said, trying to maintain her composure, pulling back from the hug, "We'll get you settled, and we can catch up on old times."

Opening her parasol, Nellie beckoned Basil to follow her. He picked up his luggage and linked arms with her, and the two of them started off, sharing the parasol. Basil took in every detail he could as the dusty street with run-down buildings came into view. An old ghost town in the middle of nowhere; perfect place for Ratigan to hide. Across the street as they traveled down the wooden sidewalk was the sheriff's office. Cat R. Waul sat in front of it on a chair, two of his feline minions dragging in a drunken cat to throw into a prison cell.

"That'd be Cat R. Waul, the new sheriff," Nellie explained, as Basil got a good look at him, "Pity the future 'mayor' isn't with him, I'm not sure where he might be at the moment."

"I say, he certainly exhibit's the fashion sense of someone derived from the…" Basil stopped himself and cleared his throat, "Well garsh, he dresses like one of them snobby Englishman fellers I heard about. Didn't we kick their sorry hides outta here in 1776?"

"Of course we did, but we can't seem to get rid of all of them," Nellie said with a sarcastic smirk, "Come now, Slim. The saloon's right down this street."

"Saloon eh? That where you've been stayin'?" Basil asked, though he knew already.

"Indeed, as I mentioned in our letters," Nellie responded as they came up to the swinging doorways.

Inside the saloon piano was playing. It was too early for Tanya's shift, but Tony had already taken over bartending. He waved to Nellie, but then noticed she was with someone. Looking around cautiously, he beckoned them over.

"Should we greet Mr. Toponi, cousin?" Nellie asked quietly.

"Hm, well I don't reckon why not, maybe we'll have a drink," Basil said, getting a good look at everyone in the saloon.

They walked up to the bar and took a stool. Tony was mixing a drink, trying to look busy.

"Is dat who I think it is?" he whispered to Nellie.

"Ahem, yes it is, Tony," Nellie answered, "We've been expecting my cousin Slim for some time now."

"Slim?" Tony was confused.

Nellie gave him a wink, and Tony, suddenly getting it, nodded.

"Yeah yeah, cousin Slim…" Tony said, looking over to Basil, "So uh, we met before, back in New York. You remember me? Tony Toponi?"

Basil took a puff on his cigar, "Ya look familiar, bartender. Reckon you weren't tendin' bars when we met, but yup, yer face rings a bell."

"Well lot's changed in four years," Tony said, "Anyways uh…I know we can't really talk much here because I'm workin'…"

"We'll meet with you later to talk," Nellie said, "I'll let you know when."

"Alright," Tony finished mixing the martini and set it aside for the next customer that might want it.

The doors swung open again, and both Chula and Fidget wandered into the saloon, both limping due to their missing legs. Basil turned around, at once recognizing the lackey of his old nemesis. So it was true. Ratigan was here. There was no mistaking it now. Basil turned back around again, trying not to make himself noticed.

"I think I'll have that drink ya just mixed, bartender," Basil said, not wanting to look suspicious by sitting at the bar with nothing to drink.

"One martini for the Texan," Tony said, sliding the glass over to him.

"Ehehehe! Check out the tough cowboy with his fruity drink," Chula cackled, having a seat at the bar.

"Heh heh, why dontcha get a man's drink?" Fidget asked, turning to Tony, "By the way, speaking of a man's drink, I'll have that imported Rodent's Delight now."

"Sure ya got the dough for it?" Tony asked.

Fidget placed a small bag of gold dust on the table. Tony eyed it in amazement. Nellie and Basil paid close attention to this as well.

"Waul and Ratigan's mine is finally yielding pay dirt," Fidget said, "Yes sir, Ratigan's gonna make this town rich again, just you wait."

Chula kicked Fidget in the shin, "Idiot, no one's supposed to know about the mine until Ratigan's speech tomorrow."

Fidget winced and rubbed his leg, "Take it easy will ya, you've got seven legs to spare and I only got one."

Chula glared at everyone at the bar, "Don't let what this moron leaks leave the bar until after tomorrow."

"Oh of course," Nellie said, glancing toward Basil.

"Just get me my beer will ya?" Fidget grumbled.

Tony opened up a cabinet and took the bottle out, blowing on it to clear clouds of dust from its surface before cracking it open and pouring it into a cold mug.

"There ya go, Fidge," Tony said, taking the little packet of gold dust.

"Go ahead and order more from England, heh heh," Fidget chuckled, licking his fangs and guzzling the drink down.

"So, ya know this effeminate cowboy, Nellie?" Chula asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Basil sipped his martini, staying silent.

"He's my cousin Slim," Nellie answered, "He's visiting from Texas."

"Well pal, stick around, yer gonna witness the dawn of a new era tomorrow," Chula said flashing a gold-toothed grin.

"I sure do look forward to it," said Basil, "Been hearin' about that Ratigan feller, guess he's gonna clean up this here town?"

"Oh yeah, heh heh," Fidget replied, wiping his mouth, "Da boss is gonna make this town rich when he becomes mayor. Then they'll make him governor, and then president."

"Is he running against anyone in his race for candidacy?" Basil asked.

"Heh, well we were thinking of running Fidget up against him just so there will be another candidate, not that it matters anyway," Chula said, "Ratigan's bound to win either way. We just gotta make things official by holding an election between at least two candidates."

"Democracy in action, hm?" Basil said, perhaps letting his anger toward Ratigan get the better of him, "Good to see the people in this town can let their voices be heard."

"Well, effeminate and a wise-ass. I don't think I like this cousin of yours, Nellie."

"Which is why we were just leaving," Nellie said sheepishly, grabbing Basil's hand.

"Hope to see ya at the polls tomorrow," Chula called out mockingly.

As they walked away, Fidget finished off his mug, "Hm, somethin' strange about that guy. Almost feel like he's familiar…eh whatever, that's impossible."

The two of them walked up the flight of stairs alongside the stage.

"Well that could have gone better," she said, leading Basil toward her room.

"Despite that, they still believe I'm your cousin," Basil said, "I admit the political jab may have been a misstep on my part. I for one blame the lack of sleep during my trip-"

Nellie opened the door to her room and pulled Basil in, closing the door behind her.

"I missed you so much Basil…", she said as she cast an eager gaze at him.

Basil gazed into her jewel-like pupils. He had missed seeing them in person.

"I feel terrible for keeping you waiting," Basil said, looking down with regret.

She put her hand over his cheek and smiled, "I understand why you did. And it was partly my own doing as well, I didn't feel like my work was done yet in New York. We both had our reasons. But, after four years, I know that no other man in the world could ever suit me."

"For my part, there were of course no other women who struck my fancy. I'm far too socially awkward and buried in my work for that," he gave a small chuckle, "Not that I would have chosen anybody else. I'm quite glad you waited for me."

"I'm quite happy you waited for me as well, Basil. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, yes?"

He took her hand gently and pulled her close, "I'd say it does, Miss Brie."

She giggled, "Just remove that silly mustache before you kiss me, hm?"

Basil smirked, and took the fake mustache off, tossing it aside before kissing Nellie deeply on the lips. They held onto one another tightly, losing themselves in passion. After four years, they had a lot to catch up on, and they may have held the blissful kiss for hours had it not been for the sound of a door closing several minutes later. Basil broke the kiss and his gaze darted toward the doors to one of the bedrooms.

"A spy!" Basil drew a pistol and aimed it at Vartan, who fearfully put his hands in the air.

"No no, that's my assistant," Nellie put her hand on the barrel of the pistol and pushed downward.

"Oh…dreadfully sorry," Basil put the gun back in its holster, getting a closer look at the teenage boy.

"I suppose our intimacies will need to wait," Nellie said, masking her regret, "We do have a lot of important things to talk about…as much as I dislike having our reunion be burdened with so much hardship."

"This is Basil?" Vartan asked, hardly believing the detective was finally here.

"Hm, Ottoman is he?" Basil asked.

"Armenian," Nellie answered.

"Ah, of course, my apologies," Basil said, before walking closer to Vartan, "Բարեւ, ինչպես ես:"

Vartan's eyes widened in surprise, and a smile spread across his face, "Ես լաւ եմ, շնորհակալ եմ: Հայերեն կը խոսիս:"

Basil smirked, "Այո, ես Ստամբուլում ուսումնասիրեցի հայերեն:"

"You two aren't gossiping about me are you?" Nellie folded her arms, lost in the conversation. Of course Basil would be the one who finally knew his language, she thought with amusement.

"I merely greeted him and asked him how he was, he replied that he was fine and expressed his surprise that I knew Armenian, and I informed him that I studied it in Constantinople. Specifically it was the western dialect mind you, which I deduced was the dialect our friend Vartan spoke anyway as Eastern Armenian is only spoken in the Russian portion of the traditional Armenian homeland. This was back when I was studying abroad in numerous countries as a graduate student, staying with numerous families willing to take in a foreign exchange student, in this case a charming family of Armenian mice. But no, you didn't come up at all in our conversation, my dear Nellie."

"And how many languages do you speak again?" Nellie asked.

"Thirty-seven, although I admit my Swahili is rather rusty," Basil answered.

Nellie gave a small laugh, "Well, as exciting as this must be for Vartan might I request that any important business be discussed in English?"

"Certainly," Basil said, having a seat and opening his suit case, "So, any large developments since I received your letter, Nellie?"

Nellie came over to sit beside him, while Vartan leaned against the back of the sofa behind them. "Which was the last letter you read from me?"

"The one about the rally, I believe?"

"Oh…" Nellie's ears went down, "You…you aren't going to like hearing this, Basil."

Basil looked at her intently, "Tell me."

"W-well…it's about Olivia and Fievel."

Nellie drew a breath, and then explained what had happened as far as she knew. Fievel and Olivia had gotten wise to something, and Waul and Ratigan had them eliminated by pushing their raft down the river. Basil listened, the hatred for his mortal enemy growing as he imagined what Olivia and Fievel had gone through.

"I was too late then…too late to save them."

Basil got up and silently walked toward the window, as Vartan and Nellie looked on sadly.

"It wasn't because of you, Basil," Nellie said.

"I should have made sure Ratigan was either dead or imprisoned," Basil answered, "I knew they never found the body, but I chose to ignore that. Oh, I wondered if there were a way he could have survived, for a while, but with the passage of time I eventually assumed he was gone. A part of me even regretted the loss. I knew I'd never have another opponent like him again."

He rested against the window sill, his head drooping.

"I've been such a fool," Basil sighed.

"Ապուշ չես:" said Vartan.

"No Vartan, I am a fool, don't you try to tell me I'm not one," Basil retorted.

"Look, Basil, Ratigan surviving falling off Big Ben was not your fault," Nellie said, walking over to him and rubbing his shoulder, "Who knows how he actually survived that? He should have been a stain on the sidewalk. You can't be blamed for not knowing he was alive, nor for how long it took for my letter to reach England. What's important is that you're here now, and you, with that brilliant mind of yours, can help put a stop to Ratigan and make sure nothing like this happens again."

Basil continued to let his head droop, before, slowly, lifting it, and turning around.

"I'll do it," he said, "For Olivia, Fievel, and everyone else Ratigan victimized. It's him or me this time."

Nellie smiled, "Tonight after the saloon closes I'll get everyone who's in the know to meet in Miss Kitty's room. We'll work out a plan from there."

"And who's 'in the know', may I inquire?"

"Well, the three of us, Tony, Tanya Mousekewitz  (that's Fievel's sister), Tiger the cat, and Miss Kitty herself."

"And you're quite sure this meeting will be without intrusion?" Basil asked.

"Miss Kitty can be trusted," Nellie said, "They do sometimes hang around in the saloon after hours, but Miss Kitty will make sure to get rid of them somehow. We've already talked about that."

"Excellent," Basil said, "The game's afoot once again. One last game of chess."

"And one last big scoop, on this side of the Atlantic anyway," Nellie added.

Basil walked over to the ice box and opened it, "My word, you've got cheese crumpets!"

Nellie giggled, "Just for you Basil, let me heat some up for you."

"Go ahead, I believe I'd like to look over whatever notes you've taken," Basil said, sitting down and looking at the paper-strewn coffee table, going through it. Once he knew everything, he'd be able to form a plan. Ratigan was going to pay dearly for his deeds...

Description
The trip to America had been long and restless for Basil. The first ship he had found bound for America was an uncomfortable cargo ship. He didn't care, he climbed a rope and snuck aboard, spending the entire trip across the Atlantic among crates and barrels. Some of the rats aboard the ship were pleasant to talk to, but Basil could really only think about one thing. Ratigan was alive, in Green River, was terrorizing the Flavershams, and was within the same city limits as Nellie Brie.

Basil had taken Nellie's letter with him. He wished he could have run some tests on it before he so hastily bolted out the door. It was type-written, meaning anyone could have written it. The parchment and the ink matched the qualities of Nellie's other letters from all he could tell without his chemical set, but it still didn't rule out every negative possibility surrounding it. Could Nellie have already been captured? Was she forced to write the P.S. on the other side? Was he walking straight into a trap? These thoughts insured that he'd be getting very little sleep until the moment he arrived in this quaint little mining town.

When Basil arrived in Boston he did some shopping around for disguises and other things he might need, and from there, disguised as a lone cowboy returning home and doing his best to mask his British accent, he quickly boarded a train heading out west. It was a four day journey from there, and one that aside from having an actual seat to sit and sleep in, with food, was little more comfortable when he had the worries on his mind that he'd had the entire trip. He'd been rereading all of Nellie's letters, trying to make sense of it all, when finally at long last he heard the conductor call:

"Green River, next stop is Green River! It will be a short stop, do not disembark unless this is where you're getting off!"

Basil threw the curtain over the window back to see if this was indeed the right place. Outside was a desert, with cacti, red mesas and cliffs; a thin, green gulch in the distance where the river was. The sky was a reddish pink. It was sunset. Basil hastily gathered his belongings. This had to be the right place. Finally, some answers.

Outside in the punishing Utah heat, Nellie Brie sat on a bench underneath a larger human-sized one, reading a mystery novel, her absolute favorite genre of course. The station wasn't very crowded. It never was, despite Waul and Ratigan's efforts to increase tourism in the town.

She soon began to hear the low rumble of an approaching train. After waiting so long she'd grown accustomed to the disappointment of not seeing Basil step off, or to see no one stepping off at all. This would be the last train until tomorrow, so she placed a bookmark in her book and watched down the railroad tracks.

This time when it stopped, however, she saw a single mouse step out from the mouse car underneath the train, in a wide-brimmed black Stetson hat, a matching black button-up shirt with denim pants and a gun at his hip, with a cigar sticking out beneath a thick mustache, carrying a suitcase. Her ears perked up and her heart jumped.  Could it be? Was it Basil?

After looking around the mouse spotted her, and hastily walked toward her.

"Howdy, Nellie," he said in his best attempt at a Texas accent, "Your cousin Slim's come all the way back from Dallas to see ya, once I heard you was in Green River. Boy howdy, ain't seen you in a coon's age. How've ya been?"

Basil gave a wink. Nellie knew it was him, raising an eyebrow and wanting to ask where he thought up that ridiculous name and accent. She stood up from the bench.

"Oh Slim, I feel like it's been forever," she played along, before pulling him in for a tight hug, causing him to drop his suit case, "I've missed you so much these past few years…"

Though acting in case any of Ratigan's underlings were spying on them, Nellie's hug was entirely genuine. She rested her head against his chest, fighting back tears, as Basil slowly wrapped his arms around her in return.

"Aw shucks, I had to come as soon as I got your letter," Basil said softly, but in his Texan accent, "And from now on you can bet we won't ever be far apart again."

Nellie wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sniffed a little. She hated having to hold back her emotions during a moment she'd dreamt of for four years. But, she knew the real greeting would need to wait until they were someplace less public.

"Come with me to my apartment," she said, trying to maintain her composure, pulling back from the hug, "We'll get you settled, and we can catch up on old times."

Opening her parasol, Nellie beckoned Basil to follow her. He picked up his luggage and linked arms with her, and the two of them started off, sharing the parasol. Basil took in every detail he could as the dusty street with run-down buildings came into view. An old ghost town in the middle of nowhere; perfect place for Ratigan to hide. Across the street as they traveled down the wooden sidewalk was the sheriff's office. Cat R. Waul sat in front of it on a chair, two of his feline minions dragging in a drunken cat to throw into a prison cell.

"That'd be Cat R. Waul, the new sheriff," Nellie explained, as Basil got a good look at him, "Pity the future 'mayor' isn't with him, I'm not sure where he might be at the moment."

"I say, he certainly exhibit's the fashion sense of someone derived from the…" Basil stopped himself and cleared his throat, "Well garsh, he dresses like one of them snobby Englishman fellers I heard about. Didn't we kick their sorry hides outta here in 1776?"

"Of course we did, but we can't seem to get rid of all of them," Nellie said with a sarcastic smirk, "Come now, Slim. The saloon's right down this street."

"Saloon eh? That where you've been stayin'?" Basil asked, though he knew already.

"Indeed, as I mentioned in our letters," Nellie responded as they came up to the swinging doorways.

Inside the saloon piano was playing. It was too early for Tanya's shift, but Tony had already taken over bartending. He waved to Nellie, but then noticed she was with someone. Looking around cautiously, he beckoned them over.

"Should we greet Mr. Toponi, cousin?" Nellie asked quietly.

"Hm, well I don't reckon why not, maybe we'll have a drink," Basil said, getting a good look at everyone in the saloon.

They walked up to the bar and took a stool. Tony was mixing a drink, trying to look busy.

"Is dat who I think it is?" he whispered to Nellie.

"Ahem, yes it is, Tony," Nellie answered, "We've been expecting my cousin Slim for some time now."

"Slim?" Tony was confused.

Nellie gave him a wink, and Tony, suddenly getting it, nodded.

"Yeah yeah, cousin Slim…" Tony said, looking over to Basil, "So uh, we met before, back in New York. You remember me? Tony Toponi?"

Basil took a puff on his cigar, "Ya look familiar, bartender. Reckon you weren't tendin' bars when we met, but yup, yer face rings a bell."

"Well lot's changed in four years," Tony said, "Anyways uh…I know we can't really talk much here because I'm workin'…"

"We'll meet with you later to talk," Nellie said, "I'll let you know when."

"Alright," Tony finished mixing the martini and set it aside for the next customer that might want it.

The doors swung open again, and both Chula and Fidget wandered into the saloon, both limping due to their missing legs. Basil turned around, at once recognizing the lackey of his old nemesis. So it was true. Ratigan was here. There was no mistaking it now. Basil turned back around again, trying not to make himself noticed.

"I think I'll have that drink ya just mixed, bartender," Basil said, not wanting to look suspicious by sitting at the bar with nothing to drink.

"One martini for the Texan," Tony said, sliding the glass over to him.

"Ehehehe! Check out the tough cowboy with his fruity drink," Chula cackled, having a seat at the bar.

"Heh heh, why dontcha get a man's drink?" Fidget asked, turning to Tony, "By the way, speaking of a man's drink, I'll have that imported Rodent's Delight now."

"Sure ya got the dough for it?" Tony asked.

Fidget placed a small bag of gold dust on the table. Tony eyed it in amazement. Nellie and Basil paid close attention to this as well.

"Waul and Ratigan's mine is finally yielding pay dirt," Fidget said, "Yes sir, Ratigan's gonna make this town rich again, just you wait."

Chula kicked Fidget in the shin, "Idiot, no one's supposed to know about the mine until Ratigan's speech tomorrow."

Fidget winced and rubbed his leg, "Take it easy will ya, you've got seven legs to spare and I only got one."

Chula glared at everyone at the bar, "Don't let what this moron leaks leave the bar until after tomorrow."

"Oh of course," Nellie said, glancing toward Basil.

"Just get me my beer will ya?" Fidget grumbled.

Tony opened up a cabinet and took the bottle out, blowing on it to clear clouds of dust from its surface before cracking it open and pouring it into a cold mug.

"There ya go, Fidge," Tony said, taking the little packet of gold dust.

"Go ahead and order more from England, heh heh," Fidget chuckled, licking his fangs and guzzling the drink down.

"So, ya know this effeminate cowboy, Nellie?" Chula asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Basil sipped his martini, staying silent.

"He's my cousin Slim," Nellie answered, "He's visiting from Texas."

"Well pal, stick around, yer gonna witness the dawn of a new era tomorrow," Chula said flashing a gold-toothed grin.

"I sure do look forward to it," said Basil, "Been hearin' about that Ratigan feller, guess he's gonna clean up this here town?"

"Oh yeah, heh heh," Fidget replied, wiping his mouth, "Da boss is gonna make this town rich when he becomes mayor. Then they'll make him governor, and then president."

"Is he running against anyone in his race for candidacy?" Basil asked.

"Heh, well we were thinking of running Fidget up against him just so there will be another candidate, not that it matters anyway," Chula said, "Ratigan's bound to win either way. We just gotta make things official by holding an election between at least two candidates."

"Democracy in action, hm?" Basil said, perhaps letting his anger toward Ratigan get the better of him, "Good to see the people in this town can let their voices be heard."

"Well, effeminate and a wise-ass. I don't think I like this cousin of yours, Nellie."

"Which is why we were just leaving," Nellie said sheepishly, grabbing Basil's hand.

"Hope to see ya at the polls tomorrow," Chula called out mockingly.

As they walked away, Fidget finished off his mug, "Hm, somethin' strange about that guy. Almost feel like he's familiar…eh whatever, that's impossible."

The two of them walked up the flight of stairs alongside the stage.

"Well that could have gone better," she said, leading Basil toward her room.

"Despite that, they still believe I'm your cousin," Basil said, "I admit the political jab may have been a misstep on my part. I for one blame the lack of sleep during my trip-"

Nellie opened the door to her room and pulled Basil in, closing the door behind her.

"I missed you so much Basil…", she said as she cast an eager gaze at him.

Basil gazed into her jewel-like pupils. He had missed seeing them in person.

"I feel terrible for keeping you waiting," Basil said, looking down with regret.

She put her hand over his cheek and smiled, "I understand why you did. And it was partly my own doing as well, I didn't feel like my work was done yet in New York. We both had our reasons. But, after four years, I know that no other man in the world could ever suit me."

"For my part, there were of course no other women who struck my fancy. I'm far too socially awkward and buried in my work for that," he gave a small chuckle, "Not that I would have chosen anybody else. I'm quite glad you waited for me."

"I'm quite happy you waited for me as well, Basil. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, yes?"

He took her hand gently and pulled her close, "I'd say it does, Miss Brie."

She giggled, "Just remove that silly mustache before you kiss me, hm?"

Basil smirked, and took the fake mustache off, tossing it aside before kissing Nellie deeply on the lips. They held onto one another tightly, losing themselves in passion. After four years, they had a lot to catch up on, and they may have held the blissful kiss for hours had it not been for the sound of a door closing several minutes later. Basil broke the kiss and his gaze darted toward the doors to one of the bedrooms.

"A spy!" Basil drew a pistol and aimed it at Vartan, who fearfully put his hands in the air.

"No no, that's my assistant," Nellie put her hand on the barrel of the pistol and pushed downward.

"Oh…dreadfully sorry," Basil put the gun back in its holster, getting a closer look at the teenage boy.

"I suppose our intimacies will need to wait," Nellie said, masking her regret, "We do have a lot of important things to talk about…as much as I dislike having our reunion be burdened with so much hardship."

"This is Basil?" Vartan asked, hardly believing the detective was finally here.

"Hm, Ottoman is he?" Basil asked.

"Armenian," Nellie answered.

"Ah, of course, my apologies," Basil said, before walking closer to Vartan, "Բարեւ, ինչպես ես:"

Vartan's eyes widened in surprise, and a smile spread across his face, "Ես լաւ եմ, շնորհակալ եմ: Հայերեն կը խոսիս:"

Basil smirked, "Այո, ես Ստամբուլում ուսումնասիրեցի հայերեն:"

"You two aren't gossiping about me are you?" Nellie folded her arms, lost in the conversation. Of course Basil would be the one who finally knew his language, she thought with amusement.

"I merely greeted him and asked him how he was, he replied that he was fine and expressed his surprise that I knew Armenian, and I informed him that I studied it in Constantinople. Specifically it was the western dialect mind you, which I deduced was the dialect our friend Vartan spoke anyway as Eastern Armenian is only spoken in the Russian portion of the traditional Armenian homeland. This was back when I was studying abroad in numerous countries as a graduate student, staying with numerous families willing to take in a foreign exchange student, in this case a charming family of Armenian mice. But no, you didn't come up at all in our conversation, my dear Nellie."

"And how many languages do you speak again?" Nellie asked.

"Thirty-seven, although I admit my Swahili is rather rusty," Basil answered.

Nellie gave a small laugh, "Well, as exciting as this must be for Vartan might I request that any important business be discussed in English?"

"Certainly," Basil said, having a seat and opening his suit case, "So, any large developments since I received your letter, Nellie?"

Nellie came over to sit beside him, while Vartan leaned against the back of the sofa behind them. "Which was the last letter you read from me?"

"The one about the rally, I believe?"

"Oh…" Nellie's ears went down, "You…you aren't going to like hearing this, Basil."

Basil looked at her intently, "Tell me."

"W-well…it's about Olivia and Fievel."

Nellie drew a breath, and then explained what had happened as far as she knew. Fievel and Olivia had gotten wise to something, and Waul and Ratigan had them eliminated by pushing their raft down the river. Basil listened, the hatred for his mortal enemy growing as he imagined what Olivia and Fievel had gone through.

"I was too late then…too late to save them."

Basil got up and silently walked toward the window, as Vartan and Nellie looked on sadly.

"It wasn't because of you, Basil," Nellie said.

"I should have made sure Ratigan was either dead or imprisoned," Basil answered, "I knew they never found the body, but I chose to ignore that. Oh, I wondered if there were a way he could have survived, for a while, but with the passage of time I eventually assumed he was gone. A part of me even regretted the loss. I knew I'd never have another opponent like him again."

He rested against the window sill, his head drooping.

"I've been such a fool," Basil sighed.

"Ապուշ չես:" said Vartan.

"No Vartan, I am a fool, don't you try to tell me I'm not one," Basil retorted.

"Look, Basil, Ratigan surviving falling off Big Ben was not your fault," Nellie said, walking over to him and rubbing his shoulder, "Who knows how he actually survived that? He should have been a stain on the sidewalk. You can't be blamed for not knowing he was alive, nor for how long it took for my letter to reach England. What's important is that you're here now, and you, with that brilliant mind of yours, can help put a stop to Ratigan and make sure nothing like this happens again."

Basil continued to let his head droop, before, slowly, lifting it, and turning around.

"I'll do it," he said, "For Olivia, Fievel, and everyone else Ratigan victimized. It's him or me this time."

Nellie smiled, "Tonight after the saloon closes I'll get everyone who's in the know to meet in Miss Kitty's room. We'll work out a plan from there."

"And who's 'in the know', may I inquire?"

"Well, the three of us, Tony, Tanya Mousekewitz  (that's Fievel's sister), Tiger the cat, and Miss Kitty herself."

"And you're quite sure this meeting will be without intrusion?" Basil asked.

"Miss Kitty can be trusted," Nellie said, "They do sometimes hang around in the saloon after hours, but Miss Kitty will make sure to get rid of them somehow. We've already talked about that."

"Excellent," Basil said, "The game's afoot once again. One last game of chess."

"And one last big scoop, on this side of the Atlantic anyway," Nellie added.

Basil walked over to the ice box and opened it, "My word, you've got cheese crumpets!"

Nellie giggled, "Just for you Basil, let me heat some up for you."

"Go ahead, I believe I'd like to look over whatever notes you've taken," Basil said, sitting down and looking at the paper-strewn coffee table, going through it. Once he knew everything, he'd be able to form a plan. Ratigan was going to pay dearly for his deeds...