Disclaimer- I do not own GMD/The Great Mouse Detective and all characters and places related belong to Walt Disney Pictures

A/N: This story might look a little familiar to those old GMD fans. 7 years ago, before it was completely rewritten, it was known as Needle in a Haystack. As I took it apart, the focus changed so much that it had become unrecognizable. With a heavy heart, I decided to say goodbye to NIAH and showcase the new story it was born to be. So here, based heavily on an old GMD fanfiction, we have:

Villain By Name

...

Flawless.

Seamless.

His plan was ….

Professor Ratigan leaned a large shoulder against a sodden lead pipe, neglectful of the water running over the fine fabric and soaking his side.

The nerve. The impudence! The complete and utter FOOL.

His arms were folded across his chest. So angry... He was SO angry! Cold filthy water stinging his flesh and tangling his fur was a numb feeling compared to the red hot fury pumping through him. He thought his head would explode from the pressure! Barely contained rage bubbled within him like a rotten lunch and he was finding it increasingly more difficult to hold himself back from attacking the pipsqueak while he was within reach.

"Fine work, Mr. Basil." The inspector praised. "Your assistance is always appreciated."

From his place in the shadows, the rat saw it all; the detective leading the authorities to the scene of the would be crime, the authorities arresting every single one of his goons- Now he would have to round up some more! ARRGGH! How aggravating!

"All in a day's work, Inspector."

Arrogant little prick.

"All right boys, take 'em away!" The inspector shouted.

All of them were taken; Mice, lizards, toads, questionables... Every last bit of his hard work was now grumbling and groaning as they were tugged towards the nearest exit

And all Ratigan could do was watch.

"no no NO!" He whispered furiously into his gloves. It just wasn't fair! Everything should have been fine! Everything would have gone perfect if it wasn't for that… that...

"Inspector, may I have a word?" The new face cleared his throat and waved the old fool over. Nodding, the inspector turned back to the detective. He couldn't hear their whisperings, but by the way the two kept shifting their eyes around, it was all too clear:

That miserable whatever his name was knew the thugs hadn't acted alone.

"Who are you?" Ratigan grumbled. What did that bumbling inspector say his name was? It started with a B didn't it? B-B-Ben? Be- Ba- Baily? Who did this mouse think he was to suddenly appear and stick his nose where it didn't belong?

"Boss!"

"SHHhh!" The professor bent and scooped up the bat, quickly covering its mouth as the detective's ears picked up on the noise. He held his breath, heart beating louder than the sound of water running next to his ears. The last thing he needed was to be caught loitering around the scene of a crime. It was bad enough that he had already been interrogated at the University (he'd made a small mistake during his last heist), but to actually see Padraic Ratigan's face taking a harmless stroll in the sewers was a very suspicious coincidence... One he certainly would not be able to lie his way out of.

damn damn damn

This detective was perceptive, whoever he was. Following the echo of Fidget's call, the mouse made it all the way over to where the rat was hiding

Closer.

Closer.

Closer-

"Are you coming, Basil, or shall I explain the mechanics of this devious plot to the papers myself?"

Ratigan breathed a sigh of relief. Saved! Saved by the overweight dimwitted inspector who got the detective to turn back! He angrily watched the two leave, eyes wishing they could burn holes into their tiny useless bodies.

That was far too close. It should've never gotten this far!

"Basil." He dropped the shaking nerve-wrecked bat and straightened his coat. "Basil is his name, hmm?"

"Huh? Y-you mean the-th-the detective?" Fidget stuttered.

"Yes the detective, you imbecile! Who is he? Where did he come from?"

The bat shrugged. "I n-never seen him before! H-He came outta nowhere!"

Nowhere? Impossible! He must have always been around. How could this Basil have gone over-looked? How could he, Ratigan, not have heard of this retch? He needed to know more about this bold little mouse. Was he a nothing? Was he a threat? He needed to know!

"Fidget." The rat hissed. He didn't receive an answer. "FIDGET!"

"YES! YES! I'M HERE! YES!"

"Round up the rest of my boys. All I have left! We're going to have ourselves a little fun with this new face."

...

It was night,

His favorite time of day.

"B-Boss?" Fidget tugged on the tails of his black coat, shaking from head to foot. "Everything is set, Boss, everything r-ready to go."

"Perfect." He chortled. "Now, all I have to do is wait for the detective to come to me. If he's not here by midnight, I'll know he can be easily dealt with."

The plan was nothing short of ingenious, as always. Traps, gimmicks, and false clues were set up all over the streets, leaving the citizens fearing for their lives and the law in a frenzy. Each and every step made it clear who the master pulling the strings was after

Basil of Baker Street.

There were only three possible scenarios:

One: The detective would flee the country. (A bit dramatic, he thought)

Two: The detective, being arrogant and egotistically driven, would take the bait but be too stupid to understand the Napoleon of Crime's artwork. (VERY likely)

Or

Three: (Least likely) The detective is precisely what he had feared and would be here before or exactly at midnight.

The villain laughed at the thought of the detective fleeing the country in fear.

"Erm. Boss?" Fidget scraped his peg leg on the floor, the incessant squeak of it hurt his ears. "What if the detective- erm...What if he does show up?"

What if indeed, Ratigan thought to himself and checked to make sure his pistol was still in his pocket,

Loaded.

"Get out."

"uh Wha? huh?"

"LEAVE!" He didn't need telling twice. Fidget scurried away along with the others and was gone before Ratigan's voice stopped echoing off the walls of the abandoned dinner house.

…

And so the countdown began:

9pm

10pm

11pm

One more hour and he'll have won the game our little detective didn't even know he was playing.

45 minutes to go.

30 minutes.

5 minutes.

Professor Ratigan snapped his pocket watch shut and leaned back to balance on two legs of his chair. A content smile graced his features. How nice it was to have things going his way again. Basil was obviously not coming, which meant that he was obviously not a threat. All was right. He would just have to make sure his plans were tightly knitted in the future and everything would go over smoothly.

Getting up from his chair, he fastened his cape around his shoulders and reached for his hat.

Click

"Wh-?" The rat froze.

No. No! He didn't just hear-

"Leaving so soon, Professor?"

ARRGGGHHA!

That fool of a detective was standing right behind him! Close behind him, he might add, and prepared!

Digging violently through his pockets, Ratigan took a deep breath and pulled out one item; his pocket watch.

"Hmm. Two minutes before twelve?" The villain scoffed. "I was expecting you here fifteen minutes ago." He finally turned to face his opponent, holding up the pocket watch and tapping at claw on the glass. "Tsk tsk, you disappoint me… Basil was it?"

The detective looked younger up close. He was sandy colored and tall, confident, and dressed for the muddy filthy places his game had forced the mouse to crawl through. It was annoying, all of it. Everything about him was annoying and no amount of breathing and counting to ten could wipe the agitation off the criminal's face.

"So," Ratigan tried to control himself, a constipated smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You've found out I was a Professor, eh"

"Yes," His enemy stepped closer, more certain now that he had the upper hand. "and more than that."

"More? Huh, do tell."

"I know that you've been behind several hundred crimes taking place over a course of five years."

"More or less." It was seven years actually, but who's counting

"Your crimes range from petty thievery to coldblooded murder."

"Mercy killings. Is that the best you can do?"

"You go by the name of Ratigan." The detective spat, his pistol following the villain's body as the shocked rat lowered himself in a chair.

To say he was dumbstruck would be putting it mildly. This was certainly a setback, a hand he wasn't expecting.

Ratigan...

That's what the young detective had said. That was his name.

That was his name!

No no no no! A name? Not A name, but HIS name! HIS name would have him sent to jail! HIS name would ruin his reputation as a scholar! HIS name would see his house and all of his possessions confiscated!

Ratigan...

Had his cruel father been right? Was he a screw-up? A fool? A son unworthy of his own last name? To hear it spoken with such venom was an experience he'd yet to encounter. No one knew his name, at least not in the underworld. He was respected in the world above, well as respected as a rat ever could be in this discriminatory Mousedom. Students would often curse him for the amount of work he'd make them do, but never to his face-

Ratigan...

That bastard had discovered the one thing Padraic Ratigan II had been able to keep a secret all these years. He'd used every pseudonym he could think of, dead names, fake names, stolen names. Since the time he'd broken into the dark business he'd been able to keep his name out of it. So careful...

Until now.

And what? Kill him? How? The prick took him off guard and was practically waving a gun in his face! ARRGHFKGRGLH! He was done for! And all because of some bratty, annoying, egotistical, cunning, intelligent, crafty little-

Wait.

The trap the villain had set for his prey had been nothing short of incredible. His father was wrong about him, the rat was not a fool. He was a genius! He'd worked day and night on this trap for weeks. Someone would have to be as smart, as bold, as imaginative, as CRAZY as he was to even begin to understand the layout of such a play.

And this Basil of Baker Street had met him here before midnight.

A huff of a laugh exited the rat's chest. A thought dawned on Ratigan then, a cure to his boredom, a break from the mundane, a high price to pay for something new and exciting,

Someone new and exciting,

A challenge the world's greatest criminal mind hadn't even realized he was missing.

Finally, someone who was like him.

"What do you know;" The professor growled. "There is a needle in the haystack after all." He twirled his watch on its chain, his eyes locking with the young detective's.

"Granted," Ratigan's haunting smirk returned and he stood up out of his chair, determined to take control of this situation. "I was a fool to underestimate you, dear boy, but don't expect it to happen again."

His abrupt change in attitude threw his opponent, leaving the mouse blinking in confusion "Dear boy? I am hardly a child-"

"You've presented me with an interesting little challenge, and I accept."

"Challenge?" Basil nervously took a single step back as Ratigan stepped closer.

"You understand this makes us mortal enemies now, correct?"

"I'm not sure I'm catching-"

"Now, Basil, are you going to shoot me, or are you going to put that nasty thing away?" He gestured to the gun. The detective's face darkened.

"Put it away? Don't insult my intelligence, Professor."

"Insult your intelligence? Don't mind if I do!" It sounded sick, but this little brat could be some fun after all. "I don't assume you've brought any friends with you?" Basil's expression never changed. "Poor decision. These are rough times we live in, you know. Take my advice and make some friends."

"What do you want?" His adversary shouted, nerves getting the better of him. "You wanted me here, Professor, I'm here!"

"No, detective, you've got it all wrong. That's exactly the opposite of what I wanted. Now I'm afraid I'll have to kill you." He saw the other's hold on their weapon tighten. "Ah ah. But not tonight, no. You've sparked my interest."

"What?"

"Your demise will be nothing short of a masterpiece; something of my own design. Consider that an honor."

Think! His own little pet project to distract him from the humdrum of everyday business. The underworld was full of such dull creatures, and daylight didn't bring him any joy either.

"You're sick…twisted…evil.."

"Yes, yes, all those things. Well, I really must be going. Places to rob, power to steal. You of all people know how busy I am." His mood successfully brightened, Ratigan pocketed his watch and turned his back to the detective.

"Your name will be in the papers by morning, Padraic Ratigan."

The rat froze.

Was that a threat?

Ratigan thought about this. Yes, he had figured it would hit the papers at least by the weekend, but by morning? No doubt the mouse had already told several others by now, just in case this meeting had gone awry. It was bound to have gotten out sooner or later, but still... It was his name. His real name. He wouldn't get another,

And what about his job? His reputation? ... he didn't have any friends, but what about his father?

No. Stop. Enough.

It didn't matter.

No, he supposed it didn't. There was nothing to be done. He couldn't turn back now. Perhaps it was time the world knew his name. He had kept it hidden in case one day he was to return to the "right" side of the law, but it was far far too late for that.

Alright then. He'll be eagerly awaiting the front page headline telling everyone the real name of the world's greatest criminal mastermind.

"I want a headline." He decided to arrogantly quip, resuming his walk to the door. "And the picture had better be flattering."

"Until next time, Ratigan." The detective had lowered his gun, arms folded across his chest like the room had dropped ten degrees. Afraid? Or maybe just VERY aware of the mess he'd found himself in.

Oh-hoohoo! It was bound to be an interesting new year. Well, he was ready.

"Bye bye, Basil."

Let the games begin.