By Cybra
A/N: One of the first cartoons I ever truly got into was Chip ’n’ Dale’s Rescue Rangers. I adored Gadget! She was my idol! I still think she’s the coolest character from that show! (And I think it was that one episode with the Cola Cult that first interested me in angst. ^.-) So I decided to write a story for her. I also have a small (yeah, right) obsession with The Great Mouse Detective. Then I got to thinking, “Maybe I can use both in a story…”
Disclaimer: I don’t own Chip ’n’ Dale’s Rescue Rangers or The Great Mouse Detective. Both are owned by the Mouse (AKA Mickey) who I swear owns most of Florida. The actors mentioned in this story (Barrie Ingram and the late and great Vincent Price) are the actual providers of the voices for their respective characters and mentioned with deep affection. ^^ (Man, they did such a great job on that movie!)
Gadget Hackwrench returned home from the movies with her heart pounding. She had enjoyed the film immensely and was sorry that it had ended but at the same time glad to be home. The movie had made her want to go through her bookshelf and read those books all over again.
The young mouse slipped past Chip and Dale who were asleep on the couch. (Obviously, they’d been waiting for her return from the movie.) As she walked down the hall to her room, she hummed the theme from the movie, making a mental note to buy the soundtrack as soon as possible.
“Enjoy the movie, Gadget luv?” the thick Aussie accent of her older friend asked quietly with a chuckle.
She turned around to face Monterey Jack, a broad smile on her face and her hands clasped in front of her. “It was great, Monty!” she whispered excitedly. “Next time, you can go with me!”
He smiled warmly at Gadget. “You’ll be going back?” He almost laughed out loud when she nodded her head vigorously, her large smile growing larger and her cheeks flushed with delight. “That good, eh?”
“It was wonderful! Barrie Ingram portrayed him perfectly!”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I heard he studied and worked pretty hard to get that part.”
“It’s obvious!” she cheerfully told him, glancing past the bigger mouse to make sure the chipmunks were still asleep. “And Vincent Price was magnificent as Ratigan!” She shrugged with a smile as she added, “The movie had little bits added in that weren’t originally recorded, but it moved the whole story along beautifully!”
“Glad to hear ya enjoyed yerself,” Monty told the mouse he loved like a daughter.
She flushed in embarrassment as she admitted, “I was really tempted to go around and buy another ticket or just sit and wait for the next playing.”
He gave her a fond chuckle as he reached out and tousled her hair. “Well, you better be goin’ to bed.”
“Actually, I’m going to stay up and read for a bit.”
“All right then. I’ll see you in the mornin’. Don’t stay up too late.”
Gadget planted as kiss on the larger mouse’s cheek. “I won’t. Good night.”
“G’night.”
When she finally made it inside of her room, she quickly slipped into her nightgown and walked purposely over to her bookshelf. She scanned the titles, smiling fondly at each one as she tried to decide which to read.
Finally, she reached out and grabbed one of the hardbound books off her shelf, holding it lovingly in her hands before she walked back over to her bed.
As she propped herself up with pillows, she glanced at the picture she had gotten of the person she had a burning desire for, the person who had inspired her to go into the detective business and the Rescue Rangers…
Basil of Baker Street’s face smiled back at her, frozen in time on the framed piece of paper.
The picture had come from a rare trip across the Atlantic Ocean. The Rangers had gone to London, England, for a month for a much-needed vacation. She had specifically requested to visit only one place: 221B Baker Street.
The old flat had been a source of fascination for her, a source of interest for Monterey and possibly Zipper, and a source of boredom for the chipmunks. The flat had been made into a museum to preserve a piece of history from only a century ago. The former occupant’s name had been the pride of every mouse back in the Moustorian Era, and mice still could remember the name with a certain touch of pride. In those walls had lived the famous Basil of Baker Street, the Great Mouse Detective.
Gadget breathed a content sigh as she remembered seeing the portrait a grateful client had once given the detective hanging in his former bedroom. When she spied a small copy of it big enough for a picture frame in the gift shop, she had bought it on the spot, trying her best not to squeal with delight.
She sighed again, though this time with less content, as she remembered that neither Chip nor Dale had been able to understand why she had wished to go there. They had heard of the famous detective’s exploits – all those in law enforcement had – but had seen nothing that she saw.
Of course, they hadn’t been exposed to the stories of the mouse originally hailed as “The Sherlock Holmes of the Mouse World” since they were extremely young.
Before she could read and before his death, Gadget’s father used to tell her stories about the brilliant detective. She would sit in his lap and listen with rapt attention, hanging on to every word. When she could read, he bought her books and other information on Basil, watching with delight as her reading ability grew as she devoured each and every one. The books had been a source of comfort when her father died, allowing her to lose herself in the exploits of her long-time hero.
As all this was happening (right around the time she was about fifteen), her heart started to pound strangely while reading. Her father had still been alive when this started happening and explained to her that she felt emotionally attracted to the detective. Since it started, her attraction had grown over the years as she read and re-read every piece of information available about Basil of Baker Street.
She looked up from her reflections (not quite sure when she had started looking down at the cover of the book) and smiled longingly at the portrait of the detective.
His fur was mainly tan with a light-colored underside to his long muzzle. His prominent nose led one’s eyes to follow it all the way to his intense yet kind green eyes. In the portrait, he wore the deerstalker and Inverness cape he was famous for, standing straight and tall with an air of intelligence and confidence from his ears to the tip of his long tail.
Thinking back to the movie she had just seen, Gadget smiled as she realized that the actor who had portrayed Basil had looked incredibly like the detective. The director had chosen well not just for Barrie Ingram’s abilities as an actor but for his overall resemblance to the famous detective. (However, since Basil had never married, it was simply a matter of coincidence that the detective and the actor looked similar. There was no way that Barrie Ingram could not be a direct descendent.)
She sighed with delight as she remembered the way The Great Mouse Detective showed exactly what she had anticipated Basil would act like. The producers and directors had remained loyal to her hero by what must’ve been a close study of the descriptions of him from his associate Dr. David Q. Dawson’s records. She didn’t know about most moviegoers, but she was certainly pleased.
‘I wonder,’ she thought to herself, ‘if it would ever be possible to go back in time and simply watch him work.’
The young mouse flushed red as she thought of actually meeting the Great Mouse Detective himself. She imagined she might make a fool of herself, though she probably would have surprised him with her knowledge about him and his work.
‘Lady mice weren’t supposed to know that much about detective work in the late 1800s. It wasn’t proper,’ she noted silently, then with a small grin. ‘Maybe he’d be impressed.’
She sometimes had dreams about somehow meeting the detective face to face. He would have just finished a case with Dawson when she nervously approached him, in awe of him. He would look up at her and ask if she had a problem that she needed his help with. She would tell him “no” and start asking about some of his techniques or something. He would be surprised by her knowledge of his work, and Dawson would smile knowingly and leave his friend to be questioned.
She flushed red yet again as she remembered how those dreams would often end. She would be stuck in his time for a while and even help on a few cases while she was there (Mrs. Judson would be kind enough to give her a place to stay). Then, as time passed, Basil would start to feel the same thing for her that she felt for him. Mrs. Judson would be thrilled since she had been known to occasionally try to make her employer meet “some young sweet thing”. Finally, when she was about to return to her own time, a bit disappointed that she had never told him how she felt about him, he would lean forward towards her…
That’s the point where she always woke up due to one distraction or another.
Still, those were her favorite dreams. Basil had all the wit, intelligence, and good looks she could ever ask for in a mate.
Too bad he’d been dead since before she was born.
Despite this, she couldn’t help that one wishful desire to meet (and maybe kiss) the Great Mouse Detective.
THE END