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When Two Worlds Collide

Mr Basil of Baker Street

December 16, 1898 (around two in the morning)

Why does it feel cold and wet all of a sudden, I thought to myself before I opened my eyes slowly.

Immediately noticing my surroundings, my eyes widened. How I ended up in a dark alley was beyond me. A title wave of questions soon came crashing down on me, which also caused me to obtain a sudden headache. One thing I knew right off the bat, I was definitely not in Puerto Rico anymore. The only other place I could think of being as freezing as this was Virginia, and I wasn't there either! So, where the heck was I? Feeling my headache start to worsen, I groaned while I placed my throbbing head in my hands. However, it was at that moment that I realized something wasn't quite right. Ignoring the pain, I lifted my head up. The first thing I noticed that was different was my hands.

"What the…," I whispered as I began to feel my face next. I gasped softly once I noticed it had changed as well. It felt…furry.

I suddenly began to panic, my heart raced and my breathing became heavy and difficult to manage. Slowly, the pieces of the terrifying puzzle were coming together, but the sane part of me wanted to believe otherwise. In the middle of all this, I noticed a piece of a broken mirror and sprinted towards it. Gripping both sides, not even caring if the glass cut me, I gazed at my reflection. For the moment, I couldn't even scream. It was as if I had lost the ability to do so. Finally, the horrific sight besieged me as I gained that power and screamed bloody murder. In the process, I stumbled backwards and tripped over what appeared to be a broken piece of a wooden crate, hitting my head hard on the ground. Luckily, I didn't black out or anything that severe. Though, I wish I did. Nevertheless, back to the reason why I screamed. Somehow, I transformed into a mouse, yep you heard me right…a mouse! While paying more attention to my throbbing head, I didn't even notice the sound of rapid footsteps coming up from behind me.

"Are you all right, miss?" a voice asked calmly and politely.

As I lifted myself up from the ground, I had a gut feeling that I wasn't prepared for whom I was about to see in from of me. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just…," I began to say until my gaze properly focused on said individual.

Oh, God! No, no, no, this can't be happening. I must be having one seriously tripped out dream. He isn't real, Paula! He is just a figment of your imagination! I screamed in my head. Suddenly, I began to feel lightheaded and my vision became hazy again.

"…fine," I finally said before I passed out.


It felt like an eternity when I finally regained consciousness. The harsh pounding in my head had long since vanished, and I no longer was soaked or freezing to the bone. So with that, I automatically assumed that I was having another weird dream. Alas, I was proven wrong when I slowly opened my tired eyes only to see that I was not in my bedroom at all. Glancing at my unfamiliar surroundings, I gradually began to piece together the unsolved puzzle. For starters, the decent size bedroom looked as if a hurricane went through it. Papers were scattered all over, while clothes (possibly disguises) were thrown in various piles. I was amazed that some parts of the floor remained visible. On various parts of the stripped wall directly in front of me, several newspaper articles dating back as far as 1880 were pinned above a small overly cluttered desk. A few minutes later, while continuing to look around, I heard the door open to my right and noticed that it was none other than the famous consulting detective of the mouse world, Basil of Baker Street.

"I was beginning to think you would never wake up," he said softly.

"H-how long was I unconscious?" I carefully asked, minding my own words.

"Almost six hours, my dear," he replied as he presented a tray of food "Here, this will help regain your strength. You took quite a nasty fall."

"I did?" I questioned confusingly. "Maybe that's why I feel like I got hit by a Mack truck," I commented to myself. Unfortunately, he heard me.

"A what?" Raising his brow as he looked at me with concern.

"Oh, um, nothing, I guess I'm still not quite myself yet."

Dodging my reply, he then placed the tray on the side table by the bed and pulled a nearby chair towards me. However, before he sat down he helped me sit up before he placed the tray in front of me. I honestly didn't even know what to say at this moment. He was so much different than what I could recollect. My thoughts went back to my time as I began to remember how Basil was in the movie: intelligent for one, but he was also a social misfit, somewhat condescending, eccentric, but, of course, he was kind and gentle here and there.

"Um, thank you so much, sir, for your generosity," I said with a shy tone in my voice.

He only laughed slightly as he began to rummage through the drawer of the side table. It was after he presented a small box he finally answered, "You are quite welcome, my dear. I could not leave a young woman such as yourself out in the cold, especially in your condition. Also, no need to call me 'sir', Basil will be fine."

My only response was a soft smile. I looked down at the plate in front of my. While it was the thought that counted, I could not eat any of it without gagging, the toast and bacon were burnt to a crisp while the eggs looked as though he had to scrape their poor charred selves off the skillet. Next to the plate was a small vase with a flower inside as if he tried to make his creation look presentable. I looked to the glass of water last, knowing I'll be welcoming that the most.

"I hope that's okay," he began to say when he noticed my blank stare. "Since Mrs Judson is out of town, I had to work with what we had," Basil said as he began to mend the rather large gash on my forehead. As gently as he could, he began to dab rubbing alcohol on the wound. As expected, I winced a bit.

"You made all of this?" I replied, trying to look pleased. Before he answered, he carefully placed a bandage over the wound so it wouldn't become infected.

"Mmm-hmm, I too am amazed that I could still cook after all these years, not saying that I was ever the best either. My landlady will not let me go two feet towards the kitchen while she is around, fear of me causing any destruction of some kind."

After hearing this, I could see why she wouldn't allow him near the kitchen and secretly hoped he didn't set the room on fire. I picked up the fork and speared at what looked like the edible parts of the eggs and took a bite. It wasn't too bad, but sadly, not too good either. The dried out bits of the yolk were starting to make me nauseous. I crunched loudly on the toast next, trying my best to swallow the black pieces down my throat. Staring at the bacon last, I didn't mind it overly cooked when it still had a delicious maple brown sugar flavour. I crunched on that the most and reached for the glass of water to wash it all down.

After he left the room, it gave me a chance to really observe the new environment around me. I carefully noticed things that I didn't detect in the first place since I was still somewhat discombobulated. To the right of the small desk was a decent sized walk-in closet that not only contained his regular attire, but probably every disguise imaginable. When slowly getting out of the bed, I noticed that I wasn't in my Metallica t-shirt or high school gym shorts. Instead, I was wearing a plain white nightdress with a high collar that drooped around my ankles. Seeing this made me wonder if he even noticed my not-in-style clothes and simply stripped me out of them, not even thinking twice about it. Then again, was I even wearing my own clothes at all? Dodging my last thought, I quietly tiptoed my way to the closet. Inside, hanging on the door was his Inverness coat and deerstalker.

Hmm, I could have sworn he had them hanging on a suite of armour, I thought to myself as I continued looking through his clothes.

Scanning through his regular attire, I slightly began to bite my bottom lip, feeling a childish urge return to me. As my hand hesitatingly reached out, I paused when I thought I heard something. Cautiously, I peeked outside the closet, making sure the coast was clear while at the same time wondering how long Basil was going to be. Assuming I would have plenty of time before his return, I closed the door enough to where I still had enough light so that I could see what I was doing.

The first thing I grabbed was a pair of his brown trousers and with a bit of difficulty, since I now had a tail, I finally got them on. They were a bit loose, but nothing a belt wouldn't fix. I then slipped on one of his plain white shirts, just like the trousers, it too was a bit on the large size. After tucking it in, I did the zipper and looped a belt through. In the corner of my eye, I spotted his familiar sea green cravat hanging along with others on a nail by the closet door. Now the question was how the heck I was supposed to tie this thing, since I've never worn a tie in my entire life. After my thousandth attempt, I finally got it, though it wasn't perfect. But at this moment, perfection wasn't an issue. Lastly, I found another one of his brown waistcoats and slipped that on. After buttoning it up, I once again checked to see if the coast was clear before I stepped out of the closet to look myself over in the full-length mirror.

"Hmm, I don't look bad at all," I chuckled while I stared at my refection. "Maybe I could pass off as him."

"You'd have to do a lot better than that if you were to impersonate me," Basil replied while he stood by the door.

At the moment, I felt like my heart was about to bust out of my chest from utter fright. I know what you all are probably thinking: she is so screwed, right? Wrong. When I turned towards him, I was expecting him to be incredibly furious with me. Instead, he was…smiling…why was he smiling? This, for some reason, frightened me. He might be smiling now, but I had a strong feeling that at any given moment, he would snap. Luckily for me, he didn't. He began to chuckle softly as he walked up to me and led me back to the closet.

"How about we find something more suitable for your sex, shall we?" he said as he began to go through the female attire he had. My only response was a gentle nod.

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