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The Last Word

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It's been a week since the closing of Ratigan's case. London's gossip slowly died down and the streets were quiet for now. Basil had gotten back from his last case and was settling down in his home. Mrs. Judson had stepped out for the evening and Dawson went to gather emergency supplies for the kit he carries. So Basil sat alone by the fireplace, his ears twitching every now and then from the crackling of the fire or the subtle ticking of the clock.

He looked down at his replaced violin after he broke the last one. Basil got up from his seat for a moment to bring it over to him. He laid back in his chair, fixing his posture as he lowered the bow on the strings. He drawed sounds from it that slowly formed into music. He played mournful notes that he's used to practice with before he starts playing a piece. Basil plucked at the strings and began playing.

The song started slowly,

"What do they call it?"

"When another forces your hand?"

His eyes shut as he let his hands continue and he followed in the words of the song.

"And what will they say,"

"When they find me here this way?"

His beat followed the ticking of the clock in the room. Basil felt it was getting louder.

"And know, know, know, know,"

"That it wasn't my idea."

"No it wasn't my idea."

He opened one eye to look at the portrait of Ratigan he kept on top of the fireplace.

"But, oh, just to see your face."

Basil's teeth gritted against each other.

"When you find me here like this."

The violin picked up the pace as the beat got faster.

"Now there's no time for wondering,"

"Darkness is now at my door."

Basil closed his eyes again and let his memories flow in his mind.

"Wrapping with his bony fingers."

"He's come to take me home."

As his hands kept going on the instrument.

"He'll envelop me in sleep."

"Wrapped in black feathered wings."

He thought about him, of course he would. He thought about his face, his smile and the way he was always one step ahead of him made his teeth grind together. Who could fall for such a rat?

"But before we fly,"

"Here's my goodbye."

His eyes shot to the photograph of the sewer rat. His brows furrowing together.

"I get the last word,"

"I'll have the last laugh,"

"Sure as the room is growing cold."

Basil got up from his chair, his hands not stopping as he moved and he turned away from the portrait.

"I'll have the last word,"

"I'll have the last laugh,"

"Sure as my blood is running cold."

He listened to his shoe tap onto the floor with the rhythm as his tail swayed.

"They won't call it suicide."

"'Cause I've got the killer's name,"

"Engraved so deeply in my veins."

His moved with the emotions he was feeling but his hands never stopping.

"They will call it homicide."

"'Cause I've got your name,"

"So clearly carved into my wrist."

His emotions were strong and his words grew colder. Basil didn't turn around as he felt looking at the picture was intimating him. He was afraid to face the beast. He slowed down on the next part as well as his movements.

"The weak and the lame,"

"Will find their way to escape."

Then he remembered his work, the people he helped, Olivia and her father.

"But why should I leave,"

"All this beauty behind,"

Her being reunited with her father after him being kidnapped in the hands of the rat.

"And forfeit the joy in my life,"

His dear friend, Dawson.

"In the name of an enemy."

He remembers all the courage and strength he got for the case was from him. His back was no longer turned against the portrait. Basil faced this fear straight on.

"I'll have the last word,"

"I'll have the last laugh,"

In fact a smile appeared on his face as he conquered his fear.

"Sure as the room is growing cold."

Basil didn't believe in ghosts but when he said those words, felt as if there were a presence in the room. It didn't make the smile on his face disappear.

"I'll have the last word,"

"I'll have the last laugh,"

"Sure as your blood is running cold."

Dawson was walking back home as he was holding the bag of supplies with him. He was at the door, getting ready to unlock the door then he stopped himself when he heard a violin playing. Basil was playing but.. was he also singing? He put his ear against the door to listen in on it.

"Far be it for I,"

"To leave all this beauty behind."

"I will stay,"

"To watch you wither away."

Basil's eyes layed on Ratigan's smirk and his glowing yellow eyes. His smile grew at it.

"And with any luck,"

"You may be hit by a truck."

"And I will remain,"

"To dance upon your grave."

"Oh, look, can't you see."

"How much your death means to me."

His eye gave a subtle roll at the words. The smile never leaving his face.

"Please won't you play,"

"In a busy street."

His eyes closed for the last verse.

"Far be it for I,"

"To leave all this beauty behind."

Basil slowly leaned in for his forehead touched with Ratigans in the picture.

"I will remain,"

"To dance upon your grave."

He finished off with a sigh.

"Basil?" Dawson opened the door and his head was seen through the crack of the door. The strings of the violin screeched when Basil heard his voice. As quick as a blur Basil sat down back in his seat, grabbing his pipe and took a puff of it.

"Evening, Dawson. I uh.. I didn't hear you come in."

Dawson walked into the room and shut the door behind him. "I'm sorry if I interrupted you. I should have knocked first."

"It's quite alright, old boy."

Dawson didn't even see that the portrait Basil had of Ratigan was facing down so you wouldn't see it. He picked up his bag and made his way to his room.

"I will say your performance was quite good, Basil." He said with a smile as he walked up the stairs.

Basil's face went scarlet red, before he could get his words out he stammered until he settled and smiled.

"Thank you."