Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish I owned all of it. Sadly, The Great Mouse Detective belongs to Disney, and Basil himself of Baker Street belongs to Eve Titus (or so I'm told...)

Author's Note: Okay, this is my first GMD fic, so I hope it comes out okay. GMD is my favorite Disney movie of all time, but my little sister hadn't seen it in such a long time, so we watched it a couple weeks ago after 'Pygmalion'. My sister said that Basil reminded her a little of Henry Higgins, which I found too entertaining to turn down. Thus, this was born.

Something IMPORTANT to note: Justin, the Captain of the Guard? Yeah, I stole him the 'The Secret of Nimh'. Just took him from that time period and stuck him in the year 1897. I'm sorry, but I needed him and he didn't seem to mind too much. So... yesh. Enjoy!

The sky was dark as the mouse ran through the streets, eager to return to his home. His red oriental robe whipped around him as he ran, rolling under carriages and sliding through iron fences. His heavyset figure gave him difficulty in carrying himself, but his sheer determination and desire for pursual drove him on through the dank, wet London streets.

As he ran past a deep recess full of water in the cobblestone street, he stopped. Staring into the puddle, he was shocked at the plump, white face that stared back at him. He smiled at his reflection and gave a sigh of relief.

"Nearly gave yourself a heart attack, old boy," he said to the reflection. Glancing up, he took into account the street name. Only four more blocks to go.

He took off at a mad dash, never stopping until he reached his destination. His mind raced. He mentally calculated what was going to be done first. 'Minimize time', he thought as he foresaw where all his utensils would be located. He tightened his grasp on the revolver that had been the cause of his careless run homebound. He cackled to himself. He flung open the door, shouting to himself. "Ah, the villain slipped this time! I shall HAVE HIM!"

He noticed a plump older gentlemouse standing in the middle of the floor, whom he ran past, paying no attention to but to shout "Out of my way. Out of my way!" and fling bits of clothing off in spanning directions. Clutching the revolver, he was suddenly stopped by a voice behind him. "I say! Who– Who are you?"

He stopped. "What?" How can someone be waiting for him and not know who he... "Oh." He mentally shunned himself. He pulled off his white rubber mask and gave a semi-bow to the portly gentlemouse. "Basil of Baker Street, my good fellow."

The stout mouse looked on in amazement as the mouse deflated himself, standing noble and proud as the air from his costume released, the robe now dripping from him in extra folds of cloth. A young girl quickly greeted him. "Mr. Basil, I need your help, and-"

He quickly silenced her as he grabbed his robe, blindly firing a bulls-eye shot with a dart over his shoulder. "All in good time."

She was persistent. "Yes, but you don't understand! I'm in terrible trouble-"

He nearly brushed her aside. "If you'll excuse me."

HE drummed a few notes to himself, scurrying to grab a box of bullets off of a shelf, ignoring the interjections of the mouse attempting to tell him something of the girl. He continued to work, clearing one of the bullets but continually nudging the revolver on the counter. Finally tired of hitting it, he passed it behind him. "Hold this please, doctor."

The doctor, obliged, stuttering, as Basil fluidly made more room on his desk, taking the revolver back from him and placing it down again. He heard him speak. "W-wait just a moment... how the gift did you know I was a doctor?"

Basil examined the bullet, smiling at his obvious opportunity to display his deductive skills. 'Might as well go all out,' he thought. "A surgeon to be exact. Just returned from military duty in Afghanistan." He loaded the bullet, blew on it for good luck, and snapped the chamber back into place. He smirked. "Am I right?" he asked, knowing full well he was.

The doctor was amazed. "Whe-Yes," he said, proudly grasping the flap of his blazer collar, "Major David Q. Dawson." He became focused again, his surprise remaining. "But how could you possibly-"

"Quite simple really!" Basil interjected, delighted and eager at Dawson's further inquiries. He snagged the doctor's sleeve, lifting the arm, showing the patched up tear. "You've sewn your torn cuff together with a Lambert stitch," he said, bringing him close and giving him a childish pat on the cheek, "which of course, only a surgeon uses."

He continued on, collecting pillows from the furniture before the fireplace. "And the thread is a unique form of cat gut, easily distinguished by its, peculiar pungency," he spoke softly to Olivia, whose presence he's re-established in his mind. He stood full to face Dawson, continuing, "found only in the Afghan provinces."

Basil tossed a pillow at him, which Dawson caught, stumbling back a step. Basil then tossed two more, which Dawson caught with greater ease. He grasped the row of pillows, unable to see around them. "Amazing," he remarked, his voice muffled by the pillows.

Basil grabbed the revolver, spinning the chamber to load the bullet. "Actually it's... elementary, my dear Dawson," he said simply.

Then, cocking the gun, he aimed for the center of the frontmost pillow Dawson was clutching. Suddenly seeing what Basil was about to do, he panicked, threw the pillows onto the leather chair before the fireplace, and ducked behind a sofa, dragging Olivia to the shelter in the process. Basil fought back a laugh at the doctor's reaction, knowing full well he would never have fired at the poor doctor. Although, according to his calculations, the thickness of the pillows in their sum total, compared with the trajectory of the bullet, factoring in its speed and habilitary motion, would have prevented the bullet from penetrating straight through and into the poor doctor. It would have been perfectly harmless.

Aiming for the center, one eye squeezed shut, he fired.

BANG!

The noise was loud enough to cause the two mice to stop conversing for a moment. The shorter of the two, and older, plump mousette dressed in a purple robe, glanced over in the direction of the noise, while the other, taller, slender mousette snapped her gaze into the same general direction.

"Watch what you're doing!" the slender mousette snapped. She crouched for a moment to scoop up her book, which she'd dropped after being startled.

A mouse at the top of the ladder on a far wall of the ballroom looked over. Stepping down the ladder, he came across the floor, straightening his vest, and humbly gave a bow towards the plump mouse, taking his cap off. "Beggin' yer majesty's pardon. I didn't intend to give anyone a fright. I was trying to cut the string, not trying to pop the balloons."

The taller mouse was about to condemn his clumsiness, but the other spoke first. "Quite all right, Thomas. It looks lovely so far. One balloon less or not," she said, giving him a gentle smile.

Thomas gave a grateful smile and a quick bow in return before heading back to his ladder, scooping up the piece of balloon before he mounted the ladder again. The Queen turned to her companion. "There is no need to be so critical, Mishode. I'm sure Thomas and the others are having a hard enough time preparing for tomorrow without us bothering them further," she said gently, her maternal concern evident in her tone.

Mishode sighed and clasped the thin but long book to her chest. "Yes, your majesty. I apologize."

The Queen tapped her arm playfully. "Tut tut, there's no need to apologize, my dear. This is a splendid occasion."

Mishode nodded and smiled as the Queen turned back to the labors unfolding before her. She had only been allowed a moment's gazing before she heard steps coming towards her, and felt Mishode grasp her upper arm. The Queen didn't need to turn around. 'It must be Justin,' she thought instantly.

She turned to see the gallant captain of the guard strolling towards them, dressed in his standard blue uniform. He was tall and lean, hidden strength buried beneath his playful demeanor and trouble-making persona. Mousetoria casually glanced at Mishode, who seemed to brighten at the rat's presence. The Queen smiled and bit her bottom lip. 'To be young again.'

Queen Mousetoria gave Justin a pleasant smile upon reaching them. "Good day, Captain," Mishode said quickly.

Justin gave the two a graceful bow. "Good day to you, dear lady," he said, smiling at Mishode. He then turned to address the Queen. "I hope this day finds you well, your majesty. You look lovelier than last I saw you."

Queen Mousetoria smiled. A charmer as always. "Oh, you liar! You saw me yesterday!" she said, smiling, her hands on her hips, "Though to say I disagree would be against my better judgement."

Mishode smiled at Justin. "I suppose you're to be responsible for protecting us tomorrow."

Justin gave her a wink. "Tomorrow and always, shall I swear to protect those who live within the palace walls." He then spoke to both, looking at the Queen. "As for tomorrow, I've just finished speaking to the troops myself. A guard at every door, extras around the perimeter. Double the normal amount of bodyguards for the residents of the palace."

Mishode smiled broadly. "It's a shame you won't be around to join us. Where will you be? In the ballroom, on guard?" she asked.

As Justin was about to answer (as politely as possible) the Queen interjected. "He'll be taking the night off."

"What?" Both expressed their surprise, Justin seeming disappointed at the idea.

The Queen pat Justin's arm. "Take the night off. You've done so much to prepare, and I don't think it fair if Mishode and I are enjoying ourselves, and you are not on account of us."

Justin smiled and ignored Mishode's joyous gaze. "I thank you for your hospitality, your majesty, but..."

"I will not take no for an answer, Mr. Huntsford. Do you have faith in your men?"

Justin nodded. "Absolute faith, your majesty."

She smiled. "Then I can assume with proper advance instructions, they can do well to spare you."

Justin gave her a smile. "I suppose so."

She gave a firm nod. "Good." She turned back to watch the mice hard at work before saying, "Extra bodyguards will not be required."

Justin frowned, a look that rarely, if ever, suited him. "I'm afraid I must disagree, your majesty."

"There is nothing challenging enough to require two mice instead of one," she said, turning to him. "Unless you are expecting there to be a problem..."

Justin bit his tongue, debating an answer. There had been reports of the Professor planning an attack, and in Justin's mind, he would have no greater temptation or glory of trying to destroy the monarchy then at the Queen's Jubilee. What Justin had wanted to do was postpone the Jubilee until Ratigan's capture, but the Queen would hear none of it. For a seventy-plus year old mouse, she still had some solid spunk, something Justin begrudgingly admired.

Justin nodded. "As you wish, your majesty."

The Queen smiled gratefully, as though knowing that Justin was struggling. "Thank you, Justin."

Justin gave a smile back and gave a graceful bow. He felt a slight tug on his arm and glanced over at Mishode. She smiled. "So I suppose I can finally have a dance with the valiant Captain of the Guard?"

The Queen was about to say something, after seeing the look of attempted politeness on Justin's face, but both were interrupted. "I say, vhere iss seh Queen?" a harsh, old woman's voice spoke. The three turned around to see an old woman, dressed in rags and hunched over a cane, hobbling towards them. She had a kerchief around her head, her hair in her face. "I say, vhere iss she?"

The Queen frowned, but smiled, almost a humoring look of confusion. "I am here, my dear. What is it you want?"

The old woman hobbled closer. "I juss vant to offer my humble congratulations, on such a fine day as zis," she said, her accent becoming more evident. Justin frowned. 'Swiss... maybe, Hungarian?'

The Queen nodded. "I thank you most graciously for your praise."

The woman nodded. "As a vay of sanking you for your great leadership, may I offer my services and tell jou jour fortune?"

Mishode, who had taken a step or two back at the sight of the woman, scoffed. "Please. Are you trying to tell us that you can see into the future?"

The woman shrugged. "Try to tell jou– who is trying? I cantell jou de future."

Mishode rolled her eyes as the woman turned to the Queen. "May I have your hand, your majesty?"

The Queen obliged and gave the woman her hand, her touch warm and soft. Looking at the palm, she nodded, her fingertips grazing the lines that time had since worn into permanent recession. "Ah yes... pup pup pup..." she muttered in thought, "ah, you vill have a glorious party... beautiful presents... a slight danger, nossing so much to vorry about... long life line... at least thirty more years to come!" she said, laughing a true cackle. The Queen smiled and the woman went back to soothsaying.

"Hmm... time is good... yet, you vill lose someone close to you... but zey vill return in short time. I tell you true!" she said, glancing up at the Queen. Her face that momentarily held a slight frown now held a softness in her eyes. She looked at the old woman and patted her hand. "I hope so," she said, barely above a whisper. The woman nodded.

Suddenly, she spun on her heel to face Justin. "Choo...," she said, looking him up and down with suspicion... "Hand! Now! Avanti, my time is getting shorter!" she shouted, holding out her hand for his. Justin smirked and gave her a hand, which she seized and began examining with a determined air. "Ah ha! Zis vone is no good! No good! He is bad!"

Mishode shook her head. "Shows you how much you know. He's the Captain of the Guard."

The old woman stepped up to Mishode and looked up at her. "Juss because someone begins good... does not mean zey stay zat way... especially when power is enough to drive a mouse to darkness," she said in a haunting whisper.

She then pulled Justin's hand back and began ferociously examining it again, the queen chuckling at the sight. "Choo... have no family... no friends... and no pets..." she said sadly, tisking. "I can understand no friends, but no pets? Tsk tsk tsk," she clucked. "Choo vill grow old until your head iss as big as your belly, and sse children vill come and play pranks on you. And choo vill lose all choo jour beautiful brown fur, and become a naked mole rat! Ah hah!

Justin broke out into a hearty laugh. "If you say it, old woman, it must be true. Whatever shall I do to prevent it?"

The old woman thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Look both vays before crossing ze street, beevare of carriages beings pulled by grey horses... don't eat vheat after ssree in ze afternoon... some basic prevention tactics should hold it off for a few extra years."

Both the Queen and Justin laughed as the old woman turned to Mishode. "I don't suppose, choo are brave enough."

Mishode rolled her eyes, holding out her hand, palm up. The old woman hobbled over and the Queen continued to laugh, holding her stomach. The old woman frowned. Studying the hand for a moment, she dropped it. "Pfft," she said simply.

Mishode frowned. "What? What is it, what?" she said with genuine concern. The older mouse shrugged.

"Vhat? Nossing interesting zere at all. Choo vill be short-temptered all choo life, become old a wrinkly and choo feet start to smell, and choo have no teeth and eat viss your gums, and you vill die an old maid."

Mishode scowled. "You're a liar!"

The Queen was beginning to hurt from laughing so hard. She had been laughing quite steadily until the woman's final comment. She shook her head. "Mishode, it's just in fun."

Mishode shrieked. "Fun? FUN? This old woman comes in out of nowhere and tells me I'm going to die an old maid, and this is FUN?"

The woman shrugged. "I tell you truth!"

Mishode shook her head. "You're a liar, I tell you!"

The Queen gave her a look of sympathy. "Mishode, that is enough." She then turned to the old woman. "Okay, playtime is over Annabella. Stop torturing your cousin."

Justin started, unbelieving. He looked over at the old woman, shocked. Suddenly, the kerchief was pulled off in one hand, an old woman's mask in the other until a mass of long brown tresses became released. Beneath was a young mousette of about twenty, and she lifted a hand to smooth the light tan fur on her forehead. She looked at him with her bright blue eyes and smiled. "Surprise?"

Justin shook his head, grinning, and dropped his gaze, impressed with the disguise. Mishode on the other hand, was now seething. "Annabella? ANNABELLA? You think this is funny? God, you're such a child!"

Anna smirked. "Why? Does it bother you that I got away with it instead of a complete stranger? You should be happy. I could have said you died tomorrow, you know."

As the two were bickering, a sergeant of the troop came over to speak to Justin. Anna cast a glance sideways to catch him frowning. She fought the impulse to be nosy and ask what was wrong. Justin suddenly straightened, then turned to the three mousettes, speaking to the queen.

"If you'll excuse me, majesty, I have some things to attend to before the evening's end."

The Queen nodded her head in reply. "Of course, Captain. You may take your leave."

Justin bowed to the three, looking at Anna as he came back up. He looked from her to the mask she still held and back again, shaking his head and letting out a laugh as he turned and headed across the floor with the sergeant.

Mishode shook her head. "Well, it seems someone has managed to scare him off."

"Mishode..." said the Queen in a warning tone.

Anna placed a hand on her hip. "Too bad your overeager drooling over him doesn't get the credit."

The Queen opened her mouth to object when she closed it again. Some part of her agreed with Anna, though solely in the message, not in its wording. She looked at Mishode.

Mishode was about to respond in haste when she caught herself. She suddenly broke into a big smile. "You're probably right, Anna. Silly me for wanting the Captain of the Guard." She then turned to the Queen. "If you'll excuse me, your majesty, I have some things to attend to."

The Queen gave her a nod in reply. Mishode looked at Anna, still speaking to the Queen. "I have some letters to write... I promised my mother."

"Mishode!" The Queen said harshly, never shouting.

Mishode smiled at Anna. She knew she got the reaction she wanted when she saw Anna's jaw tighten and her fists clench. Mishode simply turned and made her way across the floor. The Queen placed a careful arm around Anna, her other hand placed on her shoulder, for fear she might finally lunge at Mishode and finish their year-long feud once and for all.

After a moment, she felt the tension drain out of Anna. She was concerned for her holding it inside, but for the moment, it was satisfactory. They were not alone, and she would hate to cause any alarm. Anna heaved a sigh, as though releasing every angry thought she'd had regarding Mishode. She turned to the Queen, who spoke first.

"You shouldn't let her bother you dear. Though you must admit– you did touch a nerve, both with her false future and with Justin."

Anna scoffed. "She wouldn't make Justin a wife. She wouldn't make anyone a wife. She herself could be a married couple. Make herself some dinner then complain about how there's not enough salt."

The Queen gave her a sympathetic smile, and in a motherly action, pushed a strand of long, gracious curl behind Anna's ear. "We have no right to judge, Annabella. Someone somewhere will find Mishode to be someone who embodies everything they want in a lady. You simply have to pray she finds that person."

Anna smiled. "Believe me, majesty, I'm praying."

The Queen smiled and took one of her arms in hers. "As am I."

The two stood for a moment, taking in all of the hustle and bustle of preparation. It was to be the Queen's Diamond Jubilee the next day. The Queen thought back to the moment when Anna first came in, and her prediction. She gave a sigh. "You are still leaving?"

Anna looked at her, giving her a small smile. "Yes, your majesty."

The Queen nodded, understanding. "When?"

Anna looked back to the preparations being made. "Tonight."

The Queen gave another understanding nod. "Have Daley prepare something for you to take with you when you leave. No one leaves this palace without proper food and price in their pockets."

Anna smiled, fighting back what she could have sworn were tears. "Thank you... for understanding, your majesty."

The Queen turned to her and smiled, taking both her hands. "I understand your need for adventure. To see the world. If I was not in such a binding position, I should much like to accompany you. But you may go. And remember– you will always have a place here. You may return whenever you like."

Anna nodded and smiled as the Queen continued. "Regardless of what Mishode says, your family is here. My heart and prayers go with you. You will forever be my confidant and my friend. I wish you the best."

The Queen held out her arms and embraced Anna. "I love you, my child," she said. Releasing her, she smiled. "God speed."

As though everything had been said that was required, the two then locked arms again, continuing to watch the busy preparations. Anna smiled and looked at the Queen. "Is there anything I should be careful to spot and pick up for you for your collection?"

The Queen smiled. "I should think it to be complete by now... or at least close to it. But, you know," she said, giving her a clever smile, "I shouldn't mind some Swiss-made chocolate... or that mouse we spoke of for Mishode, either."

The two laughed as the workers glanced over, curious as to what was so funny. Shrugging to each other, they soon continued their work.

Author's Note: Hope you all enjoyed it! Review and let me know whether or not to continue!