The Great Mouse Detective Basil Of Baker Street Novels & Stories

For most people, the dirty, old Bow Street office, reeking of sweat, polished bronze, and heavy stacks of books, was not an attractive place. But over the past three years, Kai has become so used to every inch of this office that it feels like home. It's hard for visitors to believe that these small and unassuming buildings - Bow Streets 3 and 4 - are the center of British criminal investigation. This is where Sir Morgan conducts his trial and directs his team of eight detectives.

There was a beast in their basement. Jules Blake had learned about it completely by accident. He had been looking for his kitten Sheba, and after fruitlessly searching the entire house, Jules had decided to check out the basement no one ever used. His hopes hadn’t been high—the basement was so cold, dark, and damp that even his not-very-bright kitten should have been smarter than to go there—but when Jules got downstairs, he was surprised to find security guards at the door. Armed security guards.

After a while, the door to Basil's room was opened, Basil showed a smile and said to Violet: - Good morning Violet, bring my breakfast in. - Yes, sir, please. Violet pushed the food cart into Basil's room, she was stunned when she saw his room. Basil's bedroom was so large, that it had to be two or three times the size of her house in Viga village. The inside is decorated very meticulously and luxuriously, but the furniture in the room seems a bit messy like it has just been cleaned up in a hurry.

, I said, scratching the back of my head. “ You know him from somewhere?” The other cop that was standing with him asked, probably seeing how agitated I was. His creepy eyes were like a natural scanner, one that was able to read even the smallest details in a room. “ Yeah, yeah”, Basil responded, looking at him and looking back at me as he said, “ we had quite a special encounter”.

No. The department must be trusted. And the agency should send reliable people to work there. He closed all the windows with his mouse. - All open... you are a detective and you leave evidence like this? Maybe I do need a break. Without realizing it, he missed the slip of a criminal.

He removed his reading glasses and set them carefully on the arm of the couch, then gave me his full attention. “Okay,” he said, voice low but steady. “I’m listening, son.” I sat back, one arm draped casually over the sofa, though inside my chest, there was a tension I rarely admitted to anyone. “It’s Demetria Hernandez. The baker. You already know her from the gala.” His brows lifted in recognition. “Ah, the woman who caught the attention of my son in front of half the city.”

I ignore her and continue walking inside. "You thought it was easy to ruin things you didn't know how they came about? You're a joker! You know that day I saw your chat with him. I was only pissing you off so as to read your chat properly. It's so daft that you couldn't even notice, and yet you call yourself a detective. You're pathetic," Jessica says, and the small boy beside her laughs. He laughs so hard that I feel like going up to strangle him. Now she makes it clear that this isn't the kid I saw; they manage to fool me once but not anymore. I know what I'll do!

Basil replied, a crumb stuck on his lips. Alicia smiled calmly and pushed the plate of cookies towards Basil. “I’m sure you are not only here to eat all my cookies and drink all the tea I have in my room. So, tell me, Basil, why are you here?” Alicia asked him after he’d filled his belly a little. Basil cleared his throat and averted his gaze from her. However, a gleam of determination appeared on his face. “Yes, that’s right. I actually have something to tell you, my queen”

That is not the life Watson wants, he hopes in this world there will be no more such evil crimes. Just took a short nap and reached Bologna. Perhaps because the climate in the North is usually colder than in the South, Bologna is a bit colder now. Watson got off the train station, stretched, and started on his way home. His house was not too far from the train station, but because he didn't want to go home right away, he decided to take a detour. The atmosphere in Bologna is somewhat more pleasant than the hot air in Naples, Watson likes this slightly cold air, feeling that cold weather will make the mood feel lighter. Bakeries were lined up by the roadside with steaming hot cakes, the aroma

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE Are You Alive? Here Are Some Muffins Detective Bridger stood outside the door for a second before knocking. He felt rather silly holding a basket of warm muffins, but his wife had insisted. The detective cleared his throat and tried to look extra official. Rikki-Tikki answered the door. “Yes?” The detective’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?” “Good to see you again, Detective Bridger. How’s our homicidal home invader?”