Post by Basil on Mar 28, 2020 15:30:18 GMT
(February 7th! Open to all, even if you’re a Thorn.)
“Yes, come in, come in.” The British voice was brisk, focused, and to the point, like the sharpest nail driven into a coffin. It’s sound waves bounced perfectly off of the underside of the last human-sized step in the Snuggly Duckling’s staircase, which a mouse-sized tall backed chair faced.
Yes, in the furthest corner of the stairwell of the seedy establishment was the latest improvement on 221 Baker Street.
Against the wall, using it’s cobblestones as miniature shelving, were all manner of tiny knickknacks. The majors of the space was taken up by some form of laboratory. What could be seen of the minuscule vials and test tubes were lost in a mass of paper, each sheet no larger than a farthing. Without a fireplace to repose at, the five-inch chair had it’s back to the incline of the stairs and pointed it’s seated contents at the crack between the very first wooden step and the second. A bar of dull light shone across it from the door to the Duckling, frequently opening and closing to patrons who had no idea a mouse could see their every move.
In this chair sat none other than The Great Mouse Detective.
He did not turn to face the newcomer. His artful tan hands were employed tuning his new violin. Dastardly travel had made the instrument lax. Basil of Baker Street would be blasted if he let the same happen to his mind.
”I’m afraid you’ll have to pardon the mess—the intriguing mergers of various realms held no allure for my temperamental housekeeper.” Disapproval narrowed Basil’s voice. Twist, twist, twist, turned his wrist at the tuning, wasting no motion. He didn’t need to hear the vibration of the bow upon strings-he could see by the tension that it was perfect. And he needn’t draw attention to this little corner, which none of the enormous customers of the Duckling even thought to stoop to. Unless they’d seen his notice. ”Though I’m sure you agree this is a meeting place most advantageous for our employ. Observe!”
Basil shot to his feet. Mouse or no, his impeccable posture, vivid energy and purposeful movements had him as intimidating as any giant. He swept one hand to indicate the underside of the steps and their diagonal rise, the ceiling of his new space. ”The particular incline of this stairwell affords room for visitors of most, if not all sizes, while the opposing corner allows privacy for myself and my studies, which cannot be overstated as of the utmost importance! Rather clever, wouldn’t you say?”
The footfall of some heavier creature ascending the steps shook above them, and Basil flinched animatedly, scowling with flattened ears at the small particle shower that landed on his dressing gown. ”Though something could be said for the dust.” Grumbled the mouse. Lightning flashed in his eyes again and he spun back to face the newcomer. ”Now then! Let’s not waste time with pleasantries. Your furtive glances, not to say anything of the knowledge of my presence—a miniature study half-unpacked in the corner beneath a stairwell of the noisiest establishment in the Merged Worlds—indicate that you must have read my notice. Needless to say, I am Basil of Baker Street.”
The detective folded into a bow, tail furling. His smile was more than a touch smug as he gestured toward his laboratory. ”Do come further in. I have reason to believe the, er, Snuggly Duckling is not so inconspicuous as the eye of the general beholder would initially suppose. But more on that later. Come, come, let’s have your name, and then the case can begin, yes?”
His notice had been left in the corners of every newsstand advertisement and large signpost a mouse could possibly reach. It had been time consuming, but his investigation had to begin with disappearances...or any activity peculiar even to a hodgepodge world like this one. Then he could trace the threads...and they must inevitably lead to his most likely end. The Cursed Thorns.
“Yes, come in, come in.” The British voice was brisk, focused, and to the point, like the sharpest nail driven into a coffin. It’s sound waves bounced perfectly off of the underside of the last human-sized step in the Snuggly Duckling’s staircase, which a mouse-sized tall backed chair faced.
Yes, in the furthest corner of the stairwell of the seedy establishment was the latest improvement on 221 Baker Street.
Against the wall, using it’s cobblestones as miniature shelving, were all manner of tiny knickknacks. The majors of the space was taken up by some form of laboratory. What could be seen of the minuscule vials and test tubes were lost in a mass of paper, each sheet no larger than a farthing. Without a fireplace to repose at, the five-inch chair had it’s back to the incline of the stairs and pointed it’s seated contents at the crack between the very first wooden step and the second. A bar of dull light shone across it from the door to the Duckling, frequently opening and closing to patrons who had no idea a mouse could see their every move.
In this chair sat none other than The Great Mouse Detective.
He did not turn to face the newcomer. His artful tan hands were employed tuning his new violin. Dastardly travel had made the instrument lax. Basil of Baker Street would be blasted if he let the same happen to his mind.
”I’m afraid you’ll have to pardon the mess—the intriguing mergers of various realms held no allure for my temperamental housekeeper.” Disapproval narrowed Basil’s voice. Twist, twist, twist, turned his wrist at the tuning, wasting no motion. He didn’t need to hear the vibration of the bow upon strings-he could see by the tension that it was perfect. And he needn’t draw attention to this little corner, which none of the enormous customers of the Duckling even thought to stoop to. Unless they’d seen his notice. ”Though I’m sure you agree this is a meeting place most advantageous for our employ. Observe!”
Basil shot to his feet. Mouse or no, his impeccable posture, vivid energy and purposeful movements had him as intimidating as any giant. He swept one hand to indicate the underside of the steps and their diagonal rise, the ceiling of his new space. ”The particular incline of this stairwell affords room for visitors of most, if not all sizes, while the opposing corner allows privacy for myself and my studies, which cannot be overstated as of the utmost importance! Rather clever, wouldn’t you say?”
The footfall of some heavier creature ascending the steps shook above them, and Basil flinched animatedly, scowling with flattened ears at the small particle shower that landed on his dressing gown. ”Though something could be said for the dust.” Grumbled the mouse. Lightning flashed in his eyes again and he spun back to face the newcomer. ”Now then! Let’s not waste time with pleasantries. Your furtive glances, not to say anything of the knowledge of my presence—a miniature study half-unpacked in the corner beneath a stairwell of the noisiest establishment in the Merged Worlds—indicate that you must have read my notice. Needless to say, I am Basil of Baker Street.”
The detective folded into a bow, tail furling. His smile was more than a touch smug as he gestured toward his laboratory. ”Do come further in. I have reason to believe the, er, Snuggly Duckling is not so inconspicuous as the eye of the general beholder would initially suppose. But more on that later. Come, come, let’s have your name, and then the case can begin, yes?”
His notice had been left in the corners of every newsstand advertisement and large signpost a mouse could possibly reach. It had been time consuming, but his investigation had to begin with disappearances...or any activity peculiar even to a hodgepodge world like this one. Then he could trace the threads...and they must inevitably lead to his most likely end. The Cursed Thorns.
