However, my morning was not as pleasant as Basil had wished that morning. It poured dreadfully, and I had lost my umbrella to one of Basil's odd experiments (which also required sulphuric acid and some duck feathers) so I was soaked by the time I reached my first patient's house.

Mrs Ethel Wetherby was unsympathetic to my drenched look, and instead complained bitterly about her broken foot.

"My foot's not healing fast enough, Doctor Dawson!" She said shrilly, much like a kettle on the stove. I winced inwardly- I have been her doctor since I became Basil's partner, and although I do feel sympathy for her due to her not being able to walk, I found her a very...frustrating patient, to put it politely.

I tried hard to do what I could to help- but I could not do very much- except advise her about some pain relief and not to leave her bed unless absolutely necessary. My other patients were either equally lacking in compassion- or didn't feel very well at all and just wanted to rest instead of being bothered by my well-meaning doctoring.

To make matters worse, I slipped and fell into a gutter on Half Moon Street and nearly got washed into London's sewers. Fighting for dear life, I managed to find salvation in a kindly rat, who saw me struggling to swim due to my injured shoulder, and rescued me. After ensuring I was capable of getting home without further aid (for he was in a hurry) he allowed me to go.

Soaked to the bone, my fur clinging for dear life onto my skin and my clothes stuck to me firmly, I soon found myself longing for a hot bath and a steaming, soothing cup of tea- not to mention a delicious, warming meal from Mrs Judson.

And although it was not needed, I did long for some meaningful conversation- having had to deal with coughs, sneezes, mumblings, groaning and pure, utter, bone shaking silence.

...

"Goodness gracious, Doctor Dawson! You're soaked through! Come in, come in!"

Mrs Judson hauls me in by the wrist and shuts the door against the howling winds and the lashing rains, before helping me out of my coat. I have never felt so grateful to be in 221 ½.

"Thank you, my dear lady," I shiver.

"I shall run you a bath, Doctor, and get you a change of clothes." She tells me, before darting away.

I stand there, feeling a right goose- and I catch a glimpse of long limbs awkwardly lying across the red armchair by the fire.

"Hello, Basil, my dear fellow!" I greet joyfully, and I hear my friend stir.

"Um- oh, afternoon, Dawson," he mumbles. I take note of his ruffled fur and crumpled robe, and I make my deductions.

"Are you suddenly feeling tired after your last case?" I ask.

"No- fire was warm," He answers sheepishly, and I scowl- I still feel dreadfully cold and wet from my rounds.

He says nothing more- especially as Mrs. Judson returns to announce my bath is ready and ushers me away.

...

After an hour and a half warming up, I sit with my flatmate with some hot tea and the promise of a delicious supper on the way.

"Well, Dawson- how about I tell about my case?" He asks me, suddenly, and I glance at him in surprise, before agreeing.

"Very well then. You see, Inspector Lawless asked me to investigate a seeming suicide of a gentleman in his 20th year."

"And?"

"It wasn't a suicide at all- someone had murdered him with a housewife's chatelaine." He continues, and my eyes widen.

"How, my dear fellow?"

"Really, Dawson? Come on, old chap- you know better than to ask such a vile question in my presence!"

"Well, it is an unusual choice of weapon." I remind him.

"He was strangled."

I must confess, I did feel somewhat disappointed on hearing this- I had been expecting something far more dramatic.

"So, after using the thread in the hussif to locate the chatelaine's owner, we track the villain down to using some gunpowder found at the scene of the crime."

"This is making no sense, Basil," I tell him, baffled. "Why would there be gunpowder at a scene where the victim was strangled?"

He just taps the side of his nose, and I fall silent again, feeling as enthralled as a schoolboy on hearing this strange tale.

"We tracked them- that is, the murderer and an accomplice- to Piccadilly Circus, who were talking about...erm, I shall not repeat it to you, my dear fellow- no, no, no." he shudders. "I returned to Baker Street and disguised myself as a young lady, and returned to lure the villains into a trap. Unfortunately, they did not show up. Realising to my chagrin I made a very erroneous miscalculation, I tried again- by myself-the next night."

"By yourself- but that was very foolish!" I scold.

"I realise that now, Dawson." He replies. "I did not think it very probable they were going to strike that night- but unfortunately, they had also made a miscalculation, and so, our paths were crossed to meet. I witnessed them...I witnessed one cut off a mouse's head, Dawson..." he says, quietly, his frame trembling.

I feel my heart sink and anger rise inside at this. "What happened?"

"I saw a female mouse...she was dragged outside her home by these brutes, screaming, begging, crying. I was about to charge over and stop this...but one of them took out a butcher's cleaver- and hacked away at her neck, with her screaming and begging to the Lord first for mercy- then for death."

He quivers, ever so slightly, but I sense his fear. "Then, horrified by the scene before me, I foolishly let my guard down and I was seized by one of the mice responsible. I...I only remember feeling the cleaver strike me, and the cold, sinister smile upon me and my suffering, Dawson."

I nearly cry out in horror and sadness at this travesty which has befallen my dearest friend.

"Basil..." I rise and go over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He jumps out of his fur- until he remembers it is only me, and he relaxes.

"That night shall haunt me, dear doctor. I thank the Heavens you did not bear witness to such a heinous crime."

"And I am very grateful that I was able to tend to your injuries." I tell him quietly, taking my friend's paw in my own, before giving it a comforting, supportive squeeze. Basil says nothing more, but he smiles gratefully at me.

Just as Mrs Judson brings in our supper- two steaming bowls of cheese and broccoli soup.