Author's Note.

The first time I saw The Great Mouse Detective at six years old, the word was WOW. I loved the English/Sherlock Holmes' setting, the adventure, the characters, and in a class by himself, the villain. I'm now 15 and that tape is never at the bottom of the pile. I watch it all the time. There's something about Disney movies that just make you feel good, isn't there?

Anyway, why this story? The truth is the idea came from a dream. I've always wondered what it would be like if we could get on the characters level and interact with them. How would they take the shock of our difference? How would we fit in? That night my dream answered a lot of my questions, by placing me in the setting with them. When I woke up that day, I had a smile on my face. I seem to have that dream constantly now, with new things added to it. I love writing, have written in journals since I was in the 5th grade, but writing a story like this one seemed so hard to me. I've tried to sit down at the computer and write memoirs of my life story, things about my family, but I always got stuck. With this one, it seems to be all I can think about. Ideas come to me so fast I can barely type fast enough. I want to warn you about some things first though before you read.

Every Disney villain I've ever seen, I've usually loved. Ratigan is one of my favorites. Not only is he slick and venomous, but also he's a dang genius! He has that wit and elegance of the highest social class, and that's what makes him stick out. I changed him in this story. Well, really, me as a character does. It was not a vain decision. I doubt I could ever have that effect on people, let alone our favorite mice! But it felt necessary, a sort of "sticking to the story" thing. In my dream, I saw him as someone who had been given a second chance and who wasn't taking it well. He threw himself into revenge, which only made him more unapproachable. I wanted to open him up. Make him into a mentor, where people see the heart he really could have.

I based Pete on one of the mice in the sewer. You can see him in Ratigan's fist number. He's the mouse with the striped shirt underneath a jacket. Of course, I imagined him with more of a rough but sympathetic voice, instead of the wimpy cockney accent Disney gave him!

On the fact that I'm a beginning writer, I didn't do a whole lot of research on the time period. Facts may be out of place. Some facts on the setting might be off, as well costumes or language. But, the best I can say is I tried!

Lastly, I would like to give credit to the amazing and far more talented people who I borrowed inspiration and characters from. They are as follows:

A Strange Beginning.

God only knows how my story began the way it did. One minute I was sitting at home in the States (and in the 90's I might add), and the next, I've shrunk about 4 feet and am in 1890's London. I've been very careful about hiding my little secret, because anyone at home would think I'm crazy if they heard it all. But I trust you. So hear it goes.

I was an average 15-year-old teenager. Okay, maybe not normal. Lord knows my family has been through a lot in the years I've grown up. I seemed happy, but really I was torn inside. For a middle class family, mine had had more than its fair share of trauma. And though I had friends, there was emptiness inside of me just gnawing away. I couldn't shake it, no matter what I did, so I hid it deep inside of me, and continued life, as it should be.

I'll never forget that day in August. I had just started high school and was practicing my Irish dance. I had moved up a level and lessons were harder. I was stuck on a new step with my hard shoes. I got so frustrated that I kicked my foot against my wall hard and slumped to the floor, my hands covering my face, which was rested in my lap. I don't remember when I felt a change, but soon I noticed I wasn't at home anymore.

I was in a hallway. The walls were plain white, but there were doors leading all the way down it in different styles of architecture. Being the curious girl I am, I opened the door at the end of the hall, which was made of old English oak, and found myself in a low alleyway. It seemed like I was in between two flats. The ground was paved brick, and the air was cold, unusual for a hot autumn back home. I got scared. I stood up, and noticed I wasn't in my usual get up of jeans and a tee. I was wearing a sage green dress, typical of the late 1800's. My shoes were black boots buttoned all the way to the top, and there was a carpetbag close to where I had sat. I opened it and found some things I knew, and some I didn't recognize. There were some pictures of my family, a box with some of my jewelry in it, my Irish dance shoes, and my security blanket, which upon seeing I blushed out of embarrassment. I was one of my only friends who still slept with such a thing. But there were also things I couldn't understand. There were a few other dresses, all of the same style as the one I was wearing, a cloak made of study wool, undergarments I had only worn in plays, a nightgown (something I never wore), a tortoiseshell brush complete with hair pins and hair accessories, and a tattered sketch book complete with drawing tools. I was so confused I didn't know what to do. I put on the cloak since I was shivering, picked up the bag and started to walk.

As I exited the alleyway, sunlight hit my face. I put my hand over my forehead to shield my eyes, and then gasped. A horse drawn carriage was coming down the cobble stone street. But the scary thing was how big it was. I dashed back towards the alley, and then got an even bigger surprise. The window that looked over the alley was up as high as a skyscraper! And up above the clothes on the line seemed fit for a giant. I went back up against a wall and measured myself. I was barely the size of one of the bricks! I had shrunk. Just then I heard a voice. I ducked behind a dustbin and peeked my head out. Walking past the alley's entrance were mice! But not like the mice I had when I was little. They weren't on wheels, and weren't naked. They stood upward like humans and were wearing clothes! And they talked with English accents. The lady seemed to be scolding her little boy, as her husband chuckled and twirled his cane.

"Beautiful day in London, darling, don't you think?"

"Yes dear. ANDREW, DON'T GO IN THE STREET. THE HORSE WILL KILL YOU! Really Stu, that boy is on my last nerve."

Did he say LONDON? To me, London was only a place I dreamed of being in. I had never even left my country before. I was in London? And what century? I decided if I wanted to find out, I needed to have courage. I pulled my hood over my head, so as not frighten any mice (what would they think of a human their size?) and walked out of the alley. I walked for what seemed forever until I came to a section of a park set aside for mice. Children played tag and flew kites. There were benches with men reading papers (mice could read?), and women chatting as they hushed screaming babies in their arms. I saw a boy selling papers and remembered I had also seen a pocketbook in my bag. I fetched it and retrieved some money for a paper. I knew I'd have to get used to the currency when the boy told me how much was due. I'd never paid in shillings before. I took my paper and found an empty bench and looked at the front. "A YEAR WITHOUT TERROR" was printed across the top. The article went on to read about how England was still free of a crime lord named Ratigan. Apparently, he had been quite a problem with organized crime for almost 15 years. It read that last year, (1897) the famous Basil of Baker Street had been assigned to a job that led to a showdown between him and Ratigan on top of Big Ben, ending with Ratigan falling to his doom. Since then, the crime level in Mousedom had gone down considerably. I stopped to ease my brain. I couldn't believe there was a world inside the one I had known for so long. There were cities and people under our noses, under our feet actually. And it was that of mice! And I was in it! I looked at the sketches in the article. One was of a handsome mouse of middle age in a trench coat and deerstalker, which the caption read "The Famous Basil of Baker Street." There were also mug shots of Ratigan's helpers who were still on the loose. One was that of a lizard, which struck me as yet another shock. Along with Bill the lizard were Frank, Edgar, George, Abraham, and Peter, all of whom were mice. Then there was Ratigan himself. A large rat who the article read tried to pass himself off as a mouse, he was of middle age with a 5 o'clock shadow, and dressed in everything from tails to a top hat. I shook my head in amazement. Criminals in 19th Century England were sure classier looking than the crooks back home. I realized there was something familiar about that man, like I'd seen him before. I couldn't put my finger on it.

I was just getting to the part about Ratigan's past when I heard a little girl yell.

"STOP THEIF! THAT'S MINE!"

There was a man running my way with a purse, significant to that of a child's, and a little girl running after him. She was dressed in a plaid skirt, jacket, and little blue bow. The man was in far less attractive attire, with a cap pulled low over his head. He was looking behind him every once in a while to make sure she wasn't gaining on him. When he came within a foot of my bench, I stuck my foot out, tripping him and sending him to the ground.

"You despicable jerk. Stealing from a little girl." I smacked him and snatched the purse from him. When he got up and tried to hit me I screamed, and had attracted the attention of the constable who was in the park. The criminal tried to run, but the constables' partners caught the scoundrel while he approached me. I could hear them muttering his name as they got back up. It seemed he was wanted for more than attempted theft.

The Famous Basil of Baker Street.

"He hurt you, miss?" He lifted my hood and then gasped.

"Sorry Miss, it's just I never seen a human this size before. How'd you get like that?"

"To tell you the truth sir, I'm trying to figure that out myself."

"Well anyway, what happened here?"

"Well, I heard a little girl yell and saw a man running. When he came near me I tripped him, I knew he was up to no good. It seems he had stolen her purse."

I scanned the park to see the little girl run up to me. I took the purse and handed it to her.

"Here you go, Sweetie. Sorry about that."

"Oh thank you! Daddy won't get mad now. It has all my birthday money in it!"

She proceeded to open the purse to make sure nothing was lost. As she looked, the notion of my appearance finally hit her. She looked up at me in amazement. It was then I realized where I was. Walt Disney's movie rang through my head.

"You're a human? You're pretty!"

I blushed at the comment. My mother had told me often that I was a beauty. I did have the envious thick white blonde hair and petite figure, but I never thought highly of myself. Just then three men came walking our way. One was a Scottish gentleman with a red mustache and glasses, another stocky and pudgy, and the other...

"Ah, if it isn't the Famous Basil of Bakerstreet." The officer looked in the tall mouse's direction.

"Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Yes, officer. Little chilly though."

He rubbed his coat sleeve as to warm himself.

"Olivia!" The man with glasses said. "What happened dear?"

The little girl jumped in.

"Daddy. It was amazing! This man came up and snatched my purse. I started yelling and chasing him. He would have taken all my money had this human not tripped him."

She stared up at me with wide eyes.

"Human?" The three men said in unison.

I removed my hood and they did a double take. The officer smiled in my direction.

"How this happened, I can't say. All I know is this young lady stopped yet another of England's criminals. Might have another detective to train eh Basil?" Basil smiled at me and blushed.

"It seems so officer."

The constable walked on and left the five of us to talk. The man with the glasses reached out his hand. "I can't thank you enough Miss?" He paused for my name.

"Grace, and it's no trouble at all sir."

He smiled at me and the little girl went to his side. Basil stepped out for my hand as well. I took his paw and shook it.

"If you don't mind me prying, but as I'm a man of science, how in the blazes did you get this size? As I understand it humans are giants compared to us."

His stocky friend winced as his bluntness.

"Basil!"

"Sorry Doctor, but it's a question you must be thinking as well."

"To tell you the truth sir..."

"Call me Basil,"

"Very well, Basil, I don't know myself. All I know is one minute I was back home and the next I'm here."

He smiled.

"Well, at least let me take you to my flat in thanks for your service. My housekeeper makes excellent cheese crumpets."

"Oh, I couldn't."

"No, really, I insist."

He patted my back as to direct me to walk. I followed the friends out of the park and to Baker Street where Basil lived. I took note of his sign "221 1/2 Baker Street." I smiled as I entered his flat. His friend who I learned was Doctor David Q. Dawson ("Call me Dawson,") took my cloak and directed me to an open chair. A housekeeper came in from the kitchen with a set of teacups and crumpets on a platter. She nearly spilt all the contents when she saw me. Basil explained the situation and she curtsied.

"Sorry Miss. You must be hungry. Here you go dear," She pushed a teacup in my hand.

I usually didn't like the taste of tea but it was sweet and warmed my bones. As Basil and company sat down and got their cups, I started my story. When I was finished, Basil was scratching his chin.

"Hmm...it seems to me this is an unexplainable phenomenon. All I can think of is a time portal, but even I could never prove such a thing. I'll have to think on it. Very interesting though. Just think, we're part of the past Dawson. Very interesting principles. You're American I suppose? Judging from the accent."

"Yes,"

"And a girl of many talents, including singing?"

"How in the world?" I stammered.

I loved singing, did it all the time at home, but I didn't expect a mouse to know that.

"Very simple really. You breathe from your diaphragm, and your posture is that of a singer."

I smiled. Olivia looked up at me. She seemed fascinated by me. I guessed she didn't have a mother or sisters at home. Her father and Dawson looked at me in admiration as well. I drank my tea and stared at my surroundings. The flat was quite clean, considering a bachelor lived there. Along one wall there was a dartboard where a smoking jacket (Hugh Hephner jacket, as I called them) hung pinned by a dart. There was a large assortment of beakers, test tubes, and funnels, chemicals, and a large microscope arranged on a large work table across the room. I studied the fireplace. Leaning not far was a violin case, and on the mantle were books, a clock, lamp, and newspaper clippings surrounding a portrait of a rat. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was Ratigan. Basil caught me looking at it and flinched.

"I still don't believe he's gone. Biding his time. Waiting for me to let my guard down, then he'll strike."

He seemed to be talking to himself, as if no one else was there. He glanced at Olivia who was pressing against her father's chest in fear.

"Sorry dear. I didn't mean to scare you. We won't let him come after you."

Flaversham said it was time they went home. He thanked me once again, trying to pay me, but when I refused he smiled and bid me farewell. Olivia hugged me and said she hoped we could be friends. Little children never ceased to make me smile. I told her I'd look forward to seeing her again and watched her disappear into the evening fog. Basil shut the door and lit a pipe.

"Basil, I thought I told you no more smoking in this house!" The housekeeper called from the kitchen. He rolled his eyes in my direction.

"It's alright Ms. Judson."

He sat down in his chair and pressed me more about my life at home. I told him all I could, noticing his expression when he didn't understand something. I explained the future as best I could, then changed the subject to the man in the picture. Basil went on to tell me about him. Ratigan had been a professor at Oxford, an abstract thinker, who became involved in burglary and later became one of the Seven Kings, an organized crime group. Basil explained his hatred for the man in great detail, which struck me as odd because Basil seemed a private man who didn't let on his past to strangers. Basil had befriended one of his female professors in school, Doctor Josephine Bell. She found out about Ratigan's crimes and told the police of her knowledge. Ratigan was forced to retire. He blamed Joe for his reputation in society being spoiled, and cornered her and Basil several times before murdering Joe. Basil vowed to himself he would catch the fiend, and spent his life doing detective work. Now in his mid thirties, Basil had achieved his goal but wasn't sure of himself. The body of Ratigan was never found, and Basil was questioning the death. He explained how Dawson, Olivia, and Flaversham fit in to the puzzle, and when he finished his tail twitched out of excitement.

"I'm sorry for bringing back such memories," I lowered my head.

"Quite alright my dear. Better for you to be prepared than be misinformed. Have you proper lodgings?"

I said I hadn't, and he offered his housekeeper's flat. I thanked him, but said I'd find a hotel. He told me about a nice place and gave me directions. I thanked him and shook his hand again. He smiled and told me to visit him tomorrow, so he could show him the sights and left.

I spent the next few days with Basil and his friends. He took me to see the river Thames, and showed me Buckingham Palace, where he had been thanked for his services to the Queen. I gathered it that Basil was a proud and blunt man. But apart from that, I found myself liking him. I missed home, and was worried of my parents finding me missing. My mother would be a wreck. But I was enjoying my stay, and found my new friends entertaining. I also found new talents I'd never had before. One night I took out the sketchbook, the charcoal, and a jackknife to sharpen it with. I happened to be sitting on the couch as Basil sat playing the violin in his chair by the fireplace. Out of nowhere I just started to sketch. He laughed when I'd finished and showed him.

"An artist, eh?"

"Oddly enough, no. I never drew successfully back home." He laughed.

"Must be one of the effects." I smiled at my work.

"Must be."

I grew very peaceful at that moment, reflecting on what had happened, and realized that the piece of me that used to be missing seemed to be gone. I enjoyed England, and how kind everyone was to me. I was happy.

The Fire And The Sewer.

It was late that night, just before the week was up. I was humming in my hotel room when I heard a woman scream. Then more screams followed. I turned to open my door, but pulled back my hand in surprise, as the hot handle had burned me. Smoke rose from the crack in the door as I caught specks of yellowy-orange race through the hallway. Adrenaline took in, and I got my bag immediately. I could hear the constables outside, and I opened my window.

"HELP!" I screamed.

I threw down my bag, but just then a lady fell out of her window with a baby in her arms. I stayed low and coughed as I watched them help her. I screamed harder.

"SOMEONE HELP ME!"

A constable looked up and put his hands out. I got my feet out and clung to the outside of the window with my fists. When I looked back, I could see the crowd part as water came splashing up at my level. I screamed as drips hit me and made me lose concentration. My grip was lost and I fell, but strangely was caught. I looked up and smiled. Basil.

"What are you doing here?"

"Saw the smoke from the flat, knew you were in trouble."

I laughed as he set me down. I hugged him for saving my life. He smiled, only patting my back as not to grow too attached. He got my bag and waited as I talked to a constable. It was found out that someone had thrown a bottle of alcohol with a rag in it from the roof of the building next door. How they did it wasn't known, but I heard Basil mutter something under his breath.

"What did you say, Basil?" as he helped me to a carriage so I could go to a new hotel.

"Oh nothing," He smiled as it took off.

I waved goodbye to him, knowing he'd muttered something starting with R. I started to settle down, but my night of panic wasn't over. The horses spooked halfway through the ride as we made our way to the new hotel. They bounded along as the driver screamed at them, pulling on the reins. I held onto my bag and the railing for dear life. I had been on runaway horses before, and was not welcoming the memory well. We crossed over into the seedier side of town, where the sewer line met the riverfront. I could smell fish and bars, and scrunched my nose in displeasure. I then screamed as I lost my balance and tumbled off the step and onto the street. I fell on my bum with a hard thud. I crunched up in agony as my bag fell down beside me. I felt like I had broken my tailbone. After a while I regained my breath and got up and looked around. I was lost. All I could see in the fog was the dock where the sailors came in, and a seedy bar. I walked a little ways and then heard a voice that made me stop in my tracks.

"What have we got here? A lost girl?"

A tall grungy mouse came towards me. He had a cigar in his mouth and was wearing slacks and a shirt that looked like it needed washed. He looked me in the face and gasped.

"Well, if it isn't the girl who got me in trouble the other day,"

I was confused. He saw it.

"Yeah, that's right, I got taken to the cells. But luckily, the boss has taught us how to 'et out. Still, I thought you deserved something for your little distraction the other day. The little human girl everyone's taking a shine to. Friend of Basil? The boss is gonna flip."

He grabbed my carpetbag and my arm. I screamed and tried to pull away. None of the stranger-danger stuff Mom had taught me was working. Everyway I twisted, he just held on tighter. He laughed at me when I tried to scream for help.

"No one around here gonna save ya, missy."

He pushed me into a bucket attached to an opening in the sewer system. He pulled the rope attached and the bucket dropped to the bottom of a dried up sewer. I could see a barrel in the distance with a giant R painted on the top. I could hear laughter too, men playing cards. He pulled me into the faint light as the mice looked up at me in astonishment.

"Got a gift for the boss boys. Leverage on Basil. Tried to kill her for getting me locked up, but I think she'll do better here"

He smirked and pushed me towards the box with metal bars on the door across from the barrel. At some point I slipped my arm lose, turned around, and kicked him in the groin. He groaned and landed on the floor.

"You touch me again and you'll get worse you bastard!"

I normally don't cuss around adults but I knew he deserved it. The guys made wincing sounds as he got to his knees and shoved me into the box.

"Not getting your stuff then, brat." He hissed as he locked the door.

I kicked it with my boot and slumped on the floor. He carried my bag over to the pack of guys. He was cursing.

"She got pretty good aim, eh Frank?" one of them said.

"Shut up Pete. Just doing my job. I better get a raise for this one. That there is a human girl. Don't know how she got that small, but she been hanging with Basil, the one that got me in the clink. Boss can do what he wants with her. Basil will come for her is my guess. Meaning big show down." He took a swig of beer.

"Fiesty little thing ain't she?" Pete smirked. "Thought you'd left us a minute there Frank." He shut up when Frank punched him. I wasn't giving up.

"You'd be feisty too if someone tried to kill you and several hundred other civilians!"

I knew Frank had started the fire, and I was blazing with anger. Pete just laughed, then I heard footsteps.

"Well, there he is, Frank, You can show him your prize now."

I cursed under my breath. Being a feminist, I didn't take to being called a "prize."

"And what would that be my friends?" A voice that made my blood curl asked.

I didn't dare look out of my prison, but I knew that must be the boss.

"Oh, just a little leverage Frank gottcha. Friend of Basil's. She gave him some trouble." One named Abe said as he took a drag off his cigarette.

"She?" The man questioned.

"That's right boss," Pete piped up. "And not just any she, a human she. Shrunken down and everything. 'Bout fifteen."

"Don't play games with me Pete. Humans don't shrink."

"Go check yourself, boss. Little brat though." Frank snarled.

I heard footsteps my way as I scooted into a corner.

"Well, well, well." The voice said. "It IS a human." He asked the men for my name.

"Don't know, the little shit kicked me in the groin before I could find out. She's the one that got me in trouble the other day."

The boss chuckled to himself and turned toward my cell.

"Can I have a name young lady?"

I lifted my head and tried not to gasp. Professor James Ratigan was staring at me through the door, his gloved paws wrapped around the bars. I should have known. No wonder they knew Basil's name. This man was his sworn enemy, and seeking revenge. I couldn't get the word out, I was so scared. Then I smelled an opportunity.

"My bag first," I spoke up as the laughter in the background stopped.

"What was that?" He asked as he turned towards me.

"I'll give you a name when my bag is returned to me. You could at least do me that courtesy Professor."

His eyes widened at the mention of his title, then he smiled.

"I suppose Basil told you all about little old me."

"Yes he did."

He sniggered. "How is the old pipsqueak? Still working with the chemistry set?"

"Yes. I expect he'll be here after a while."

"Oh I'm counting on it." Ratigan chuckled to himself again. "Well Miss, I'm sure Frank will give you your things."

He motioned Frank over to me, as he unlocked my door. Frank brought my carpetbag over to me, picking contents out one by one, and throwing them. I caught everything, and the guys laughed as I raced around for a few minutes so my valuables weren't hurt. When he threw my shoes behind him and my bag in front of me, which landed close to the rat in charge, I went to him, picked up the shoes and kicked him in the back of the leg. He turned to strike, but Ratigan held up a hand to leave me be. As I moved close to the criminal mastermind to retrieve my luggage, Ratigan whisked the bag up in his hands and held it above me. He was a good foot taller than me, so there was no reaching it.

"A name please."

I sighed and folded my arms.

"Grace."

He dropped the bag on the ground and took off his top hat, sweeping into a bow.

"A pleasure, my dear."

He smiled, and then walked off as he lightly set the bag down. I grabbed it and shut my door. I was still in for it, but at least I had my things. I sunk down in defeat.

The Bet.

That first night passed slowly. I was awaiting my doom so I couldn't sleep. Every time I heard a noise I jumped, but the next day I settled a little. I read a little of Pride and Prejudice, which I had bought while I was with Basil. That night I decided to take up on those Irish steps, in case I did survive and go back home. I put on my shoes, picked up my skirts and began to dance. Hard Irish step-dancing shoes have a wooden bottom for the sound effect, like tap shoes. In my state, I thought nothing of it and just danced like no one was around. But since I was in a prison, I attracted the attention of Ratigan's employees.

"What the devil is that noise?" Pete said.

He walked over in my direction and stuck his head by the bars.

"Well, I'll be darned. Boys, come here!"

At this, I stopped dancing. Pete unlocked my door and motioned me out.

"It's alright, we won't hurt you. Come on, give us a little more."

He encouraged me. I don't know what made me continue, but somehow I started dancing again. I started on a reel and managed to hit that step I'd been working on. I loved having an audience. Being in plays and recitals, I loved being the center of attention once in a while. I was intrigued, and danced harder. The music played in my head, and the sound of my shoes on the sewer floor filled the place. The guys started clapping and whistling, and formed a circle around me. I started to feel comfortable around them. They might have been criminals, but I soon realized they really didn't mean me harm. They were just bums looking for a source of entertainment. I started to laugh as I picked up speed. After a few minutes I felt like I was alone. Like I did whenever I danced. I was relaxed and confident. I started dancing around the whole sewer.

Only when Ratigan poked his head out of his barrel did I notice anyone else was there. He leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, a kind of perplexed smile on his face. Pete and the guys followed me around clapping and hollering. I noticed Frank was missing from the group, and I was glad. When I finally stopped, dazed and worn out, they clapped and cheered so loud I thought I was in a theater. They patted me on the back and smiled from ear to ear. Pete stepped out.

"We got ourselves another Irene boys. What else can ya do sweetie?" He smiled as he rested his hand on my shoulder. "Can ya sing?"

I frowned. Modesty took over.

"You wouldn't want to hear it. It's bad."

He laughed.

"It can't be. Come on. Enlighten us. We're crooks, we take our pleasure where we can get it."

I smiled.

"No really I can't."

"I'll make you a bet. You sing a song for us. And I mean really sing your best. I won't lie to you. If you're bad, I'll make it worth your while. If you're good, you owe us all something."

He shoved me in the direction of the sewer's entrance.

"We're going to The Rat Trap guys!"

He showed me the way as we made our way up the basket Frank had led me down a day ago. He led us all to a doorway down some stairs and we came into a bar. It was a run down place, with chairs and tables complete with empty beer mugs. I saw the reason we were here. There was a stage complete with velvet curtains and lights. There was a piano to one side of the pit, and a bar where a bat was slumped over. Pete directed me onto the stage.

"Alright, can you play the piano?"

I wasn't sure but I told him I could try. He had two of the guys roll the piano onto the stage. I sat down at the bench. I hadn't played the piano in years but strangely I felt like I knew where to put my hands.

"Alright, here's the terms," Pete sniggered, "You win, I will personally escort you back to Basil's, whether I get the bell for it or not."

I didn't know what the bell was, but I went along with it anyway.

"You lose, and you gotta give all us a kiss."

I wrinkled my nose up. Kiss a bum? Not high on my list. A boy hadn't even kissed me yet. They laughed, and I heard another voice laugh in the distance. I couldn't figure out where it was coming from though.

"Before you get all worked up, it's just on the cheek."

"So I have to kiss five of you on the cheek?"

"Seven," He corrected.

He motioned towards the bat.

"I'm sure Fidget hasn't been kissed in years, eh Fidget?"

The bat had stirred. He had a peg leg and a crippled wing. He looked raunchier than all of the guys put together. I flinched. Pete sniggered.

"Don't worry, he's not too bad. Just a heavy drinker. Was Ratigan's lead man for a while, then the boss threw him in the river one time, lost his shine after that."

"Whose the seventh?" I asked, hoping the answer wasn't worse than Fidget.

Pete smiled.

"That one you might have a problem with. Ratigan. I understand now you won't want to, but just remember you owe it to him. Hey, maybe he'll getcha outta jam someday."

"Doubtful," I sighed as I searched my memory for a song. The right one came to me.

"Go ahead Gracie, and make it good, we'll know if you're faking it."

I smiled and started up the introduction. Amazingly, I knew exactly where to place my fingers. I hadn't been a great piano student, and hadn't played in years, but I started out "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" with ease. After I finished singing I looked around. They were all stunned into silence. Normally I would have loved this effect on an audience, but the prospect of kissing criminals on the cheek was not something I was looking forward to. Pete stepped forward.

"How you think you're bad is beyond me. I'm telling ya, you already lost the bet. You might as well give us a concert."

I laughed of embarrassment. I started up "Seasons of Love" from Rent. I sang for a good hour, each time I looked at them they smiled. They were enchanted, you could tell. I didn't want to admit it, but I was having fun. After I couldn't sing anymore, they gave me a standing ovation and gave me some water and a little sandwich. Pete gave me a hug.

"You're better than Irene, a hundred to one."

I asked him who Irene was, but he just smiled and chugged his beer. After a while Fidget suggested to the guys that they go out for a while, and I had to stand by the door and give them a kiss on the cheek. I played it up the best I could. And when they left, I started to clean up the place.

Conversation With A Criminal.

After I finished cleaning, I got out my sketchbook and began to draw Big Ben as I had remembered it from going there with Basil. It was when I started drawing a mysterious small hole in its right side of the frame that I felt I was being watched. I heard footsteps coming down the stage, and felt a presence behind my back.

"I must say that was amazing. Beautiful voice."

"Ah, so you were here. Well, I'm sure when you're smashed any voice sounds better than your own."

He laughed at my remark about his friends. I still felt very uneasy. This man could kill me in an instant if he wanted to. I continued to draw. He watched my every move.

"But you did it anyway."

"Hey, it was something to do. Anything's better than sitting in that cage you got."

He sniggered.

"I guess so"

"By the way, what are you planning to do with me?"

He smiled.

"I'm not so sure, my dear. I don't think murders an option anymore. Not for a talented young girl like yourself."

I shook my head at the comment. I never thought of myself in that respect. I doubted he did either. He surprised me by reading my mind.

"I'm sure you think I don't mean that. But believe me, I've seen some performances in my time. That one left them all behind, even Irene."

I blushed. He read my mind again.

"Irene was a student of mine. She attended Oxford in secret where I worked. Grew up to be an actress, singer, and a heck of a swindler." He smiled. "Has put Basil in his place a few times."

He stopped. He sensed I was extremely tense. I kept drawing, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"You're scared to death aren't you? But don't worry; I don't think I will harm you now. To tell you the truth, I actually enjoy the thought of your company."

I thought of sassing him, but decided against it. Let me be on his good side. It could come in handy for my escape. A wave of curiosity came over me. What was it about me that had intrigued these men? As a result of all the rape and murder that went on back home, I never trusted many men except family members and my own father, who I adored. I didn't understand how a man capable of all this murder and destruction had decided to open up to a fifteen year old. Was it a mind game? Or was it sincerity?

I couldn't tell. All I knew was that I wasn't as jittery as I should be, and that scared me. He sat down in a chair close to mine, and I finished my drawing, turned the page, and was about to start a picture of Olivia when he slid it out of my way with his hand. I felt his eyes on me. Why couldn't he just leave me alone? He took the book, and his eyes widened at my first sketch of Basil playing the violin, and an amused smile crossed his face.

"Basil still looking for me I suppose?"

It wasn't a surprise to me. The two of them seemed to swim in their hatred towards one another.

"Afraid so."

He grunted out of amusement. I took the opportunity.

"Why do you despise him so much? I know his reasons, but I'm curious to yours."

He shifted his weight in the chair as he thought up his answer. After the longest time, he finally spoke as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"Actually, it's been so long I couldn't really tell you. Maybe because he struck me as the witty little snot he is all those years ago. It might have been that I blamed him for me getting fired that time at Oxford. I couldn't be sure."

He blew out smoked and scratched his cheek in deep concentration. Pity overtook me. I actually felt sorry for him right there. Here he was, an obviously brilliant man, who had spent more then ten years throwing it away for crime. An idea struck me.

"I suppose I couldn't strike a deal with you to spare his life?"

He smiled.

"Who Basil? It depends my dear. What did you have in mind?"

"Anything within reason."

This intrigued him, just the reaction I had hoped for.

"Well, I suppose we could arrange something. I'll tell you what. I must say I don't think this place has been livelier since you came here. You agree to come back and see us, and I promise I'll let Basil do his little performance without hurting him. I will plan on making it a challenge for him," He smiled when he saw my frown, "but I won't lay a finger on him. Deal?"

I hesitated as he closed the sketchbook and slid it back towards me. I didn't expect for him to agree so quickly. What if this was just another one of his tricks? I couldn't tell, but I didn't think it could hurt. We stood up and I shook his hand.

"Deal." We smiled as our hands fell down. I smiled again that night when I walked into my cell. A little sleeping cot had been laid down for me

Deceptions And Lies.

Two weeks had passed since my mysterious entrance into the mouse world. One week had been with Basil, and the next spent in the sewer. I was actually comfortable there. The boys as I referred to them, treated me more like a friend than a prisoner. Ratigan still regarded me as leverage in a sense, but took on a friendlier role as the days went by. Every night I sang for the boys, and then I'd stick around to hang out with them. After they left I actually looked forward to seeing Ratigan walk through the wings, as he usually listened to me sing. He would follow me around as I took on my job as the barmaid, talking in depth about various subjects. He seemed surprised at how "deep" I was. I talked about life at home. My family, friends, and hobbies were his favorite subjects. I told him about my bought with depression and anxiety, as well as my family's various toils and tales. The first time I asked him about his past, his tail twitched with anxiety as he changed the subject. I never asked again.

I never let my guard down with him, never forgot who he was. But strangely, I started to like him. I regarded him as some sort of a mentor, like Basil had been for my short time with him. I met his cat Felicia, who despite her previous role as executioner (I learned that's what the bell was for) was a generally good-natured Persian. When Fidget wasn't hung over, I could actually joke with him, and Pete felt like an older brother. Frank had left the night I lost the bet, and hadn't been heard from since. I was in good spirits and no longer feared for my life.

The last night I spent in the sewer as prisoner was the worst. After playing poker and winning all of the guy's pub money, I had retired to my cell to change my shoes for some dance practice. All of a sudden my door swung shut and I heard a click of the lock that had long ago been removed from my door. I turned around to see Fidget glare at me, and then walk away. I could hear Ratigan's voice in the distance, and was that?

"Basil of Baker Street, my old friend. Come to save the day again, eh? Do you think it wise to bring the fat man and child with you?"

"Really Ratigan, I'd think by now you would have realized I can keep up with you."

"Not quite. I did expect you sooner. A week? Your little friend could be dead by now."

"It would be out of character for you to murder her without seeing the look of defeat in my eyes first."

"Clever boy. But she has become quite comfortable here, I would hate for her to leave. I think I'll just finish you off for good."

"Then the duel begins..."

I ran to the door to see what was happening. I could hear scuffling as Ratigan and Basil circled each other. Ratigan had snapped his fingers, where upon Fidget, Abe, Edgar, and Bill had jumped on Olivia and Dawson. I wasn't too worried; Ratigan had promised no harm would come to them. They tied them up with rope and left them slumped against a wall. It wasn't until I could see the two enemies that I knew something was wrong. Ratigan's face had changed. It wasn't that of amusement, it was of pure anger and hatred. His whiskers twitched and his chest heaved as if he was hyperventilating. I looked at Basil and saw the same happening. All of sudden they lunged at each other with the force of bulls. I screamed.

"BASIL! RATIGAN! NO!"

It was almost like a cartoon where all you could see was the ball of dust surrounding them. It was a flash of black suit and deerstalker, fur and tails. I couldn't hold in the tears. With Ratigan's size and strength, Basil didn't stand a chance. I had to do something. I screamed harder.

"RATIGAN, YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T HURT HIM. YOU PROMISED! NO!"

I looked over at Olivia. Her eyes were squinted shut in fear and she was shaking. Dawson was looking away as he squirmed, trying to free himself. When Fidget came towards my cell I took my chance. I grabbed him by the collar.

"Open the door."

He shook his head at me in protest as he squirmed. I had him in a death grip.

"Fidget, you open this door right now or I swear when I do get out of here you'll have another pegged leg and crooked wing."

My whisper was harsh and I could see my expression reflect in his eyes. He knew I meant business. Without me letting go, he got the key out of his pocket and opened the door. I grabbed my bag, grabbed the knife I saw coming out of his pocket, threw him in and locked the door. I looked around. The other men had retreated into The Rat Trap for safety. I ran over to Olivia and Dawson. As I cut them loose, I whispered to Dawson.

"If we don't do something, Basil will die. Take Olivia and get around to the entrance. When Basil's free, take him to Toby and back to Baker Street. He'll need medical attention, but you can't do it here. Don't worry about me. Ratigan won't mess with me."

Dawson looked at me with curiosity. I read his mind.

"Don't worry, I'll think of something."

I searched my memory. I had seen a gun when I had visited Ratigan in his barrel the night before. I ran into the rat's home looking back over my shoulder. Olivia and Dawson were running along the side of the wall as Basil and Ratigan continued their brawl. I got the gun off the shelf. My dad had taken me hunting once so I knew a little bit about guns. I noticed the barrel of the pistol was open and there were no bullets. Good, I thought. I wouldn't need them. I shut the barrel and rushed to the entrance. Ratigan had Basil by the collar. His coat was torn and his chest puffed up, breathing unsteady. Basil was beaten pretty badly. He was squinting from pain. There were already bruises forming on him, raising his fur up. One more punch and he was a goner.

Rational Is Your Only Option.

"Don't even think about it," I pointed the gun at Ratigan's head.

He turned towards me and his eyes widened.

"Drop him now."

It took me a minute to realize the harsh voice I heard was my own. Ratigan hesitated, looked at me again, then at Basil. His face seemed to harden with anger for the last time as he threw him to the ground. I heard Basil's head hit the floor and thought it might have cracked. He moved a little and then lay still, unconscious. Ratigan turned towards me, and gave me the weirdest expression. Fidget broke the silence.

"Little rational don't you think Grace."

I answered him without moving my gun or taking my eyes off Ratigan.

"I'm afraid rational is the only option you've got left when your friend is lying on the floor, unconscious and beaten senseless."

"You're being rather foolish though. He could have a concealed weapon."

"Indeed he could, Fidget. But if he does have a weapon, and does plan on killing me with it, I guess he'll just have to deal with that. It'll just have to be one more tally mark to his list of victims. One more memory to his list of guilt."

Ratigan looked like a wounded child at me, his eyes wide and glazed over. He suddenly looked quite old for his years, but I couldn't have cared less if he died right then and there. He had betrayed my trust, and attempted murder in front of my eyes and the eyes of my friends. He had set a trap, and I had fallen for it. I of all people should have known, but in my own innocent human way I had failed. Dawson and Olivia had taken Basil up the pulley and out of the sewer. I heard Toby howl as they left the dock. I was on my own. I stepped down out into the main part of the sewer, still pointing the gun at Ratigan. I continued talking, half to Fidget, half to myself, as if Ratigan wasn't standing ten feet away from me.

"But one must wonder what goes on in his brain. I know I have. Why would a man as arrogant and proud as he is try for years to pass himself off as a mouse, when all along it was obvious what he was? I mean, no mouse has a tail THAT size!" I gestured my eyes towards Ratigan's twitching tail. " Why would a man so obsessed with his position in society place it all on the line for murder? Why would a man trade in a talent in teaching for a job so despicable that you have to intimidate people to gain respect?"

I gripped my bag as I headed towards the edge of the wall. My first ever bluff with a criminal was going well, though I was scared to death. I hated guns, and I hoped Ratigan couldn't see my hands shaking. I threw the gun down when I was far enough away that he couldn't come after and try to shoot. I felt them both flinch, thinking it would go off. I turned around and took a step; remember the key for Fidget in my pocket. I was losing control. Tears were at the corner of my eyes. I turned back around and threw the key on the ground as I wiped one from my face.

"But you know what I don't understand the most? How someone with the power to ruin and take others lives, can't even fix his own."

I stared at Ratigan for what I thought would be the last time. He had a pleading look in his eyes, as if I should stay after what he had done. I knew some part of him felt sorry, but it didn't change my mind. I walked fast around the corner and towards the pulley. Pete came around and looked at me. I could see he knew in a sense what had happened.

"Grace, please..."

"Goodbye Pete."

I wiped a tear. As I pulled the pulley I could hear footsteps. I knew Ratigan had retrieved the gun and was examining it as I heard Fidget question him.

"She bluffing boss?"

My eyes closed with anger when I heard his voice respond, "Yes, she was."

The Letter.

I sat by Basil's bed a long time that night. Dawson had patched him up, but he was still in bad shape. He surprised me by opening his eyes after a while, perfectly sane and alert.

"I heard you saved my life. I owe you an apology."

"What for, Basil?"

"It's no secret I can be quite a brute, Grace. Children haven't known me for my kindness, save for Olivia. I guess my feelings just changed for good when I heard what you did. Staying a week with a convicted felon, then saving my life took bravery."

I smiled sadly.

"I'm ashamed to say I actually was beginning to like him. Now I see what a fool I was. I'm sure no one is as gullible as I was"

"He's a genius Grace. He can twist the mind of anyone he pleases. Falling for his act doesn't make you an idiot. It means you mortal." He smiled, "I sense you made it easier on yourself though, unintentionally of course. Even a criminal would have trouble not liking you."

We talked for a long time. Mostly about my week in the sewer, what I witnessed and felt. Basil listened attentively, and seemed to regain some color in his cheeks as the hours passed. The discussions traveled to the evil I had witnessed back home, including my worst memory, the rape of a family member when I was just nine years old. We decided I would stay at the flat that night, and when he seemed worn out, I retreated to the guest bedroom for a fitful night of sleep. I tossed and turned, thinking about the events leading up to that night. Why had I fallen for Ratigan's trust? I didn't understand it, and I spent most of the next day thinking when I was trying to read or play with Toby. I helped Mrs. Judson cook, and dressed Basil's wounds as Dawson made a house call to a patient. That night was when it happened.

Basil had been downstairs playing his violin. His wounds had healed considerably in just one day. I had gone upstairs to the Master's house to visit Toby, and had come down to my room to read. I heard footsteps by my door, and looked up as I saw a letter slide under my door. I retrieved the envelope addressed to me in wavy lettering. As I read its contents, I had to sit down I was so shocked. It was from Ratigan.

A Changed Man.

When I finished the letter, tears were streaming down my face. I laughed at my emotional state, but couldn't shake it off anyway. I had never received such a letter in all my life, and I never expected one from someone like him. Was this just another trick? Something in my mind told me otherwise. I opened the door as I heard the front door close. Basil looked up as I walked down, the letter still in my hand. In one hand he had a cane which he was still using to prop up his leg he had hurt from the fight, and in the other a gun which he was unloading. His face softened when he saw me wiping my eyes.

"I take it you read the letter."

I nodded.

"Was he here?"

I sank into the chair nearest to the door. Basil set the gun down and sat down beside me on the sofa.

"Yes. The most interesting conversation I've ever had in my life."

He proceeded to tell me that he answered the door, gun in hand, waiting to fire. Dawson was out for the night and he was taking no chances. Ratigan had been in his usual attire of coat, tails, top hat, and opera cape. He had waved the gun away, telling Basil he meant no harm. Basil said he felt a wave of sincerity from the rat, and decided to give him a chance.

"He was here for an hour before he delivered the letter to you. He said he knew I was the only one who could possibly begin to understand what he was going through. A transformation, shall we say? He told me he's been very unhappy this past year. Crime doesn't give him a rush anymore. He feels lonely, Grace. I must say it can't be too comforting in that place. Even with all his lackeys and such. You opened him up. He felt alive when you were there. He said when he saw you dance and heard you sing, he felt so happy. Talking to you made him feel important, not like the lowlife criminal he was used to being. He said he looked upon you as a sort of daughter figure. Sounds very cliché, but he said you changed his life."

"How I could have that affect on a man is beyond me."

I was still wiping tears away. I couldn't stop crying. Basil smiled.

"Don't be so modest. You women don't give yourselves half the credit you deserve. You, especially." His grin softened as he looked at me. "You're unique, Grace. You're not some girl who wanders around with her head in the clouds. You think and act for yourself. That appealed to him. It appeals to all men actually. We all look for that in women, and to find those qualities in such a young girl shows a lot about you."

He stood up. I looked out the window. I knew what he was thinking.

"Do you think he's really telling the truth?" Basil looked at me with admiration.

"In all the years I've known the man, and what he's done and capable of doing, it puzzles me to say that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt he's telling the truth."

He smiled, threw me my cloak, and pushed me out the door.

The air was foggy and cold, typical for English nights I learned. I wrapped my cloak around me and looked down the street. To my left I could make out a figure walking further into the dark. I sucked in a chilly breath and ran in that direction. I knew in my heart all was forgiven.

I was about a yard from him when he turned around and smiled. I caught him in a hug. He made a noise from the blow of it, then smiled and patted my head. He smelled like my grandfather had, clean but with a hint of smoke. He sighed then spoke.

"I meant every word of it Gracie."

He raised my chin up to look at him and smiled as he wiped a tear from my eye.

"That says a lot about you that you can change a man's view on life after spending only a week with him. And a very stubborn man at that."

He chuckled, and then looked back down at me.

"You really are something."

I remembered something.

"I still feel bad though,"

"What about?"

"What I said about your tail."

He chuckled.

"To tell you the truth my dear, I thought I was the only one who found it annoying."

He smiled as he made it twitch a little. We hugged another moment as he kissed the top of my head. We then walked down the rest of the way where his dirigible was waiting in the bushes. Since Olivia had told me his old one had broken at Big Ben, this newer model was updated. The petals were up front by the steering wheel, with a chair for the driver to sit down at. He drove down to Basil's for me to get my things. My bag was out on the walk with a note reading, "You're being thrown out. Have fun," attached to it. I smiled and swung the bag in a playful way as I climbed back in. As the dirigible started up off the ground, Ratigan looked at me.

"We alright now?"

"I think so."

I hugged his side then sat down on the stool next to him as we rode to the Rat Trap for my nightly visit to the guys. When we were just outside door I was ahead of him a few steps. I turned around and motioned for him to lean over. I kissed his cheek, his whiskers tickling my nose. He smiled, a curious look on his face .

"What was that for?"

"I lost the bet the other night."

I could see his mind working when he remembered my first performance he'd seen from the wings. He smiled as I walked into the bar, a round of cheers erupting as Pete caught me in a welcoming hug. I gave them all my usual performance, and then joined them for drinks and discussion. I realized just how much I had missed this chaos in such a short time. I finally was so worn out I had to leave the bar to get some sleep. Ratigan told me where my room would be since I was no longer a prisoner. I was shocked at how much the barrel looked like a regular home. The guest room was quite nice, with clean linens and a bookcase complete with all sorts of volumes. I put on my nightgown and read a little. I dozed off, waking up only once, when I could make out a dark figure watching me in the doorway as the light in my lamp faded. I smiled as I heard him come over, turn down the light, and kiss me on the cheek. I fell asleep soon after, but I had a feeling he stayed to watch me after I was asleep.

CONTINUE ON TO PART TWO