The Case of the Black Arrow (A Great Mouse Detective Fanfic) (COMPLETED)

Chapter 1

Of all the cases Basil of Baker Street and I worked on together, none affected both of us as much as one that began on a chilly spring evening in late May of 1899. Basil and I had been assisting Scotland Yard in apprehending members of a smuggling ring who had been bringing in low-grade, unregulated opium into the city. Through our combined efforts, we had determined who was in charge, where their source of the opium came from, to whom they were distributing their product, and when each shipment came into port. We knew nearly everything except how they were moving their goods from the ships and onto the streets. More than once, Inspector Pine of Scotland Yard had tried raiding a shipment, but, to the police's embarrassment (and Basil's, who had consulted Pine on when to make his move on the smugglers), no opium was found, and questioning the passengers and crew yielded nothing. Pine nearly had us taken off the case in his outrage, but as it usually does, my friend's intellect and skills in deduction proved too invaluable for the Yard to cut him loose in this instance.

I find it worth mentioning that with the anniversary of our first case together, and subsequently, Professor Ratigan's downfall, looming in the coming month, Basil's mood swings were becoming more erratic. I had known the detective for two years at this point, and I was no stranger to how quickly he could switch from energetic and restless to deeply melancholy. However, if the previous year was anything to go by, this time of year made his moods more extreme and his eccentricities more augmented. He has never spoken to me about it, and I have never asked, but I think, in his own way, Basil missed Professor Ratigan. Or, perhaps, he didn't miss the villain as much as he missed the pursuit. I know that I am not lacking in mental faculties. I would never have been able to become a doctor if I did, and Basil would never suffer my presence if I were a fool. But I do consider myself self-aware enough to realize that I do not operate at the same level as my friend does. Ratigan, I believe, is the only person who could match Basil, both in genius and temperament, evil as he was, and his demise left something of a hole in Basil's life. Since that fateful case that brought us together as colleagues and friends, he had been growing more and more restless and agitated, lamenting that cases of missing objects that were the usual fare in our line of work were not up to snuff with his skills, and I couldn't help but agree.

And so that brings us back to the smuggling ring. At first, Basil didn't want to take the case. There is some bad blood between him and Inspector Pine that he did not want to put up with, but when Pine went over the details, it sparked both Basil's and my interest, so we accepted. Progress was made quickly thanks to Basil. After the failed shipment raids, however, everything stuttered to a halt. So there we were, sitting in our armchairs in front of the fire in our flat, Basil playing a depressing dirge of piece on his recently replaced violin, and I was reading the London Mouse in an attempt to tune out Basil's violin playing. Our day had been spent puzzling over the smugglers, and Basil had worked himself into a frustrated frenzy, pacing all over the house for so long Mrs. Judson scolded him quite harshly that he was going to wear out the wood floor. In retaliation, he grabbed his instrument of choice and slumped in his chair, and had not stopped playing since.

It was a small miracle when a knock came at the door. I eagerly stood to go see who it was, grateful for a distraction from Basil's grim melody. My relief quickly abated when I opened the door to see that it was none other than Inspector Pine standing on the other side. He was a stocky mouse of average height, with white fur and cold, grey eyes that contrasted starkly with his black police uniform.

"Oh, it's you, Pine," said Basil flatly as he came up behind me. I could sense his mood becoming fouler by the moment. "Considering the hour, I thought it was someone important".

"Good evening to you too, Detective, Doctor," Pine responded, seemingly oblivious to Basil's insult. The inspector actually seemed quite chipper, almost giddy. "May I come in?" he asked.