Death Comes for Us All
*Summer 1899*
The swish of a blade pierced through the air followed by a horrid death scream.
“AAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!”
“DIE, YOU BASTARD!!!”
Several hours earlier…
Ratigan was pacing around so much that Bill thought he would walk right through the carpet in the house. But how could he possibly relax knowing that Basil was out there somewhere, lost and afraid and possibly even hurt?? They had only technically been married for just under a year, but never once did Basil not come home from working on a case, so when it finally happened one summer night in June, Ratigan was beyond worried sick.
“I’ll be fine!” Basil had insisted. “It’s just another routine questioning of a suspect, nothing to worry about, Padraic!”
But now it was approaching midnight and Basil still hadn’t shown up yet, so Ratigan asked Fidget to go out there and do a search. The little bat was more than willing to help.
“No problem, sir!” he said in that gravelly voice.
“We’ll go, too, professor!” added Bill.
“And we won’t stop until we get Mr. Basil back here!” said Phil and Frank.
That made Ratigan feel a little more at ease.
“Thank you, boys!” he told them.
As soon as they left the house and were out of earshot, Bill spoke up first.
“Right, lads! So where are we off to first?”
They looked around at each other hoping to get some answers to no avail; Mr. Basil hadn’t even bothered to mention who he would be interrogating, much less where he was headed! It was going to be a long and difficult search, but they’d made a promise to not give up.
“Why don’t we split up?” Fidget suggested. “I’ll check out any abandoned warehouses nearby and Bill, you go with them to search any back alleys in the area!”
Reluctantly, everyone agreed.
Another hour later…
Fidget was turning a corner a few blocks away from the house when his ears picked up the very faint sound of someone groaning in pain nearby. He followed the noise straight down the center of the street until…
“Mr. Basil! Are you alright?! Boys, over here!”
Bill, Phil, and Frank were horrified when they showed up and saw the state that their boss’ husband was in. Someone had beaten the breaks off of Basil until he was coughing up blood and his right eye had been swollen shut as if someone had punched him in the face. He was dirty, his clothes had been ripped apart, and his face was covered in scratches from another rodent’s claws. But he was alive and that’s all that mattered…for now, the gang just wanted to get him home.
“Carefully, now, boys…let’s lift him slowly!” said Bill as he grabbed one of Basil’s legs to hoist him up.
When they got back to Baker Street, Fidget banged on the door first and Mrs. Judson opened up.
“We found him, boss!”
“Alright, easy, everyone!” Frank scolded.
“My goodness! What in heaven’s name happened to him out there?!” cried the housekeeper. “Here, put him down gently on the couch!”
Basil groaned quietly as he was brought inside the house.
“We have no idea, ma’am! It was Fidget who found Mr. Basil first, just lyin’ in the middle of the street all torn up…” Bill told her.
That’s when Dawson appeared from around a corner.
“I’ll check and see if his bones are fractured, but you all go and get a bucket of water with some clean rags!”
While everyone was fussing over the detective, Ratigan still hadn’t said a word since the gang had shown up at the house. But his mind was racing…how dare anyone put their hands on Basil like this? He gripped Mrs. Judson’s pillow so hard it was starting to tear apart at the seams.
“Who did this to you?” he muttered.
A hush fell over the little group as Ratigan knelt down in front of the couch next to Dawson to get a better look at Basil, who slowly turned his head to the side and blinked twice.
“Huh? This…this is nothing, Padraic! Really, I’m fine—”
“I said…who did this to you, Basil?” he repeated in a deadpan tone of voice.
“It…it was someone named…Sylvester. Sylvester Malonie. I was just about to catch him, but…”
That was all Ratigan needed to hear. He kissed Basil’s forehead and calmly stood up.
“Boys, let’s go! It seems we have some unfinished business to take care of…”
Fidget cackled as he picked up a little baseball bat near the fireplace mantle. Bill whipped out a switchblade from his pocket while Phil and Frank presented small handguns.
❇︎❇︎❇︎❇︎
Half an hour later in an abandoned warehouse…
A short, ugly rat wearing a gaudy purple suit and smoking a fat cigar in his mouth was laughing wickedly as his grubby little fingers counted a few stolen bills.
“Looks like we won’t have to worry about that nosy detective anymore! Won’t we, boys?!” he sneered, looking up for approval.
But instead of that, he was suddenly face-to-face with a handgun.
“Oi! What the HELL—”
Within seconds, a whole fistfight had erupted like a volcano as Ratigan squared up with his old enemy. Fidget was punching one of the other rat minions in the face.
“HAHA!!! Take that, you suck—AAUUGGHH!”
Suddenly, Fidget was thrown up against a nearby wall, catching Bill’s attention as he was pistol-whipping another gang member.
“FIDGE!”
Bill started to rush over to help the bat when a much bigger thug snatched him up out of nowhere. So he glanced around quickly and noticed a rope noose hanging from the ceiling. He just needed to get to it…
He ran to a stack of crates, climbed on top of the highest one, and grabbed onto the rope for dear life before using it to swing himself directly at the bigger rodent. As soon as he got close enough, Bill landed on his neck and wrapped the noose around his neck.
It worked; the rat let go of Fidget and ended up accidentally hanging himself when he took a wrong step and accidentally knocked over the sandbag that had been holding it in place for its unfortunate victim. He let out one last choking breath before falling quiet for good.
Bill was standing there shocked that his plan had worked but none more shocked than Fidget.
“Whoa…that was WICKED!” he cried. “Owwww…!”
“Easy, Fidge…careful!”
Bill carried him away from the chaos and hid them behind a box.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m okay…thanks, pal!”
“Heh…I’m glad.”
A bloodcurdling scream suddenly interrupted their moment together.
“NOOOO!!! AAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!”
“DIE, YOU BASTARD!!!”
They heard a sickening crunch followed by more silence. Guess their boss had killed another rat…?
❇︎❇︎❇︎❇︎
Later at around 4:00 AM…
They were still covered in blood by the time got home. Phil and Frank were chatting amongst themselves while Fidget was struggling to clean the blood off his back, catching Bill’s attention.
“Fidge?”
“Huh? Oh, hey, buddy! Sorry, I’m just trying to reach my back…I’ll just—NGH! Ngghhh! Huh…?”
“Here…I’ll clean you up!”
“Oh, okay…thanks, Bill!”
As Bill rubbed him down, he found himself blushing a lot more than usual. Which didn’t make any sense; he was just cleaning Fidget’s back, for crying out loud!
“Uhh…Bill?”
Fidget was looking at him all cute and innocent and why was Bill so attracted to that?!
“Bill, are you okay?”
“Uhh–”
That’s when Bill felt something stirring below the belt in his pants.
“I’ll get myself cleaned up in the morning!” he blurted out. “Goodnight, Fidge!”
Fidget watched him go, completely confused, and he ended up passing by Phil and Frank in the hallway.
“Oi, what the–!”
“Night, mates!” was the last thing that Bill said before he slammed his bedroom door shut.
“What’s up with him?” asked Phil.
Frank just shrugged his shoulders.
Meanwhile, Bill was leaning up against his bedroom door, trying to put the pieces together. Why was he so nervous around Fidget and why was he suddenly feeling hot all over his body? Was this a normal thing that happened when you were in love with someone?
So many questions and not enough answers.
Then Bill looked down and happened to notice the tent he was pitching in his pants before covering his face in utter shame. He had no idea of what to do next…