The Case of the Missing Princess: Chapter 3

Naturally, despite the princess's best efforts to fool her mother, the Queen had found out her daughter had left the palace soon after she left. With a sigh, she sat on her throne, one hand resting on her cheek as she waited for Scotland Yard's finest to make their way down to Buckingham Palace. Her little ears perked when she heard a knock at her chambers.

"Do come in," she called as she turned to face whoever had come to see her. A uniformed mouse bowed his head to her.

"Begging Your Majesty's pardon, but a Mr. Basil of Baker Street and a Doctor Dawson are here to see you." He squeaked out, saluting her. The Queen looked quite surprised, and she gestured for the two mice to enter.

"Mr. Basil, you certainly have excellent timing," she smiled as the familiar detective stepped inside and doffed his deerstalker hat politely.

"My friend and I are only too glad to be of service, Your Majesty." He replied, replacing his hat. "Now, what seems to be the trouble? And please be sure to leave nothing out. The slightest detail could be important." The Queen nodded and began to explain herself as the detective paced around the room. "I see," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "And she has not returned? Does she do this often, Your Majesty?" Mousetoria nodded with a something of a long-suffering sigh.

"It is unfortunate for a princess, but yes I'm afraid so." She answered. "I usually take her out to market on Thursdays, but she's in that mindset children often get into when they decide their parents don't understand them."

"How old is the young lady, Your Majesty?" Dawson asked gently. Mousetoria pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath.

"She will turn twenty this Christmas," she said, looking a little embarrassed. "If I may be honest with you, Mr. Basil, I expect this sort of behavior from a girl of sixteen." Dawson gave the Queen a gentle and comforting smile.

"If I may, Your Majesty, most of us mature a little slower then some. I'm sure Her Royal Highness will come back soon." He soothed her. The Queen gave a little laugh.

"You are very kind, Doctor Dawson, but you do not know my daughter." She said, sitting back in her chair. "She's quite convinced that she's the heroine of some fairy-tale. She's always been that way since I took her in. I would not be surprised if she's gotten herself in trouble and half-expects Mr. Basil to come to her rescue." She looked over at the detective who was still pacing. "She's very fond of you and your adventures, dear." She added to the mouse. Basil looked up from his musings for a moment.

"Your Majesty, do you suppose your daughter would reveal her status to anyone who wished her harm?" He asked, his tail swaying. Mousetoria thought about this for a moment.

"I'm not sure, actually." She replied. "My daughter may come across as a silly little thing, but there are times when she's been proven to have a good head on her shoulders." Basil nodded, going back to pacing again.

"And if that were the case," he muttered to himself "we would at least expect a ransom note of some kind. But the girl hasn't been spotted for at least half the day." He looked back up at the Queen again. "What do you and your daughter usually do on your Thursday outings, Your Majesty? Does the young lady have any favorite haunts?"

"Well," the Queen thought about this. "We mostly do our royal duties, Mr. Basil. Though there are times when we browse the vender shops. My daughter loves pretty things, and she has quite the eye for jewelry." Basil smiled, his tail wagging quickly.

"There is only one mouse I know who would sell the type of jewelry fit for a princess! And now we have a lead! Not to worry, I'm sure we'll be able to find your daughter, Your Majesty. The Princess will be home within the week, I assure you. Come, Dawson! We have a smuggler to find!" Mousetoria watched as the great mouse detective turned to leave with Dawson at his side. Before he left, Basil snapped his fingers as if he had just remembered something and he looked over his shoulder at the mouse monarch. "One last question, Your Majesty. You wouldn't happen to have something of hers? A favorite blanket or something of the sort?" He asked. "I'm going to need something familiar to her if I am going to sniff her out!" Curious, the Queen handed him one of her daughter's handkerchiefs.

"What do you plan to do, Mr. Basil?" She asked. The detective winked at her.

"Oh, it's not what I plan to do, but what Toby plans to do." And with that and an enigmatic smile, both Basil and Dawson left Buckingham Palace.

~~~

Rachelle came out of her faint with all the grace expected of one of her royal status. She was lying on a rather comfortable bed in a lavishly decorated room. Her ears perked as she sat up, rubbing her head, and yet not getting a hair out of place.

"Where...where am I?" She asked aloud. "What is this place?"

"I can't say I'm not surprised that you don't remember," a voice answered, slick and syrup sweet. Rachelle gasped and clutched the blankets to her chest.

"Wh-who are you! Show yourself!" She demanded weakly. The voice seemed to chuckle.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, my dear. The last time we met, you sank into a dead faint." Rachelle started trembling as the past events came back to her.

"P-professor Ratigan...." she whispered fearfully.

"So you do have a brain in that pretty head of yours," the voice snickered. "Surprising to say the least." Rachelle glared, her violet eyes darkening.

"You are supposed to be dead," she remarked. "I remember reading about it in the newspaper."

"Yes, yes but as they say, the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated to say the least." Ratigan replied, sounding almost bored, as if he had heard this routine beforehand. "A lesser mouse would have been killed on impact, but not I."

"You are no mouse," she glared in the direction his voice was coming from. "You are nothing but a slimy, despicable sewer rat!" The voice did not come again, and though she couldn't be sure, Rachelle was certain that the room temperature had dropped about five degrees.

"You will find, my dear," Ratigan spoke again after the brief pause. "That it is not wise to upset me. I'm sure my friends could tell you about what happens when someone upsets me." Though afraid of the ice in his voice, Rachelle folded her arms, jutting her chin out stubbornly.

"I've read the accounts, I know what happens." She replied. "I also know that your preferred method of murder was torn to pieces by the palace dogs."

"You may want to find a better source of news, pet." Ratigan purred from another direction. "The papers made a most egregious error on that account as well. My darling Felicia is quite well, I assure you. Perhaps a bit traumatized from her ordeal, but very much alive." Rachelle's ears laid back and she bit her lip a bit worriedly.

"Be that as it may, I will still never be afraid of you. Not as long as I have Basil in my heart." She retorted dramatically. Rather than the spitting anger she expected from him from hearing the name of his hated rival, the rat began to laugh.

"I have never heard the words 'Basil' and 'heart' in the same sentence before," he said through great wheezes of laughter. "Truly, you are an entertaining little snip! The most fun I've had in a while, I might add. Basil come for you? My dear, what makes you think that our darling detective would risk his neck to save yours?"

"Because I am the princess of all Mousedom, and my case would be made the top priority!" Rachelle shot back, but then winced at her own stupidity. Ratigan's voice suddenly lowered an octave.

"Are you now?" He cooed sweetly, and she could practically hear him rubbing his chin in thought. "Well, isn't that interesting." Rachelle suppressed a shiver as she heard him take a few steps closer. "And what brings Her Royal Highness to mingle amongst the commoners, hm? A little vacation from your comfortable life in the palace?" In the corner of the room, she caught a flash of what she made to be his gold watch chain.

"I fail to understand how that is any of your business, sewer rat." She retorted bravely, though she hardly felt brave when she heard an angry rasp of breath at the word.

"On the contrary, Your Highness." Ratigan sneered. "I make it my business to know everything that goes on in my city." Rachelle scooted back as far as she could muster.

"This isn't your city," she growled, eyes locked on what she thought was his position. She froze when she heard his voice beside her.

"Oh it is, dear lady. It really, truly is." When she looked to the side, the rat's soulless grey eyes were boring into hers. "And now that I have the princess as a guest, I'm certain that our beloved Queen would willingly had the city to me in order to keep her dear little darling safe and sound."