Yep, I've come up with another slash story. This one was inspired mainly by the GMD slash oneshots "To Be Alone" and "Beautiful", although I will admit that some of Cool Kat's own slash stories influenced this as well.

Just like with "Cannonballs", if you don't like then don't read. Any flames will be extinguished with a fire hose—and all flamers will get mouse-ified and have private time with Felicia. And I've got the bell to prove it, too!

The Great Mouse Detective belongs to Eve Titus and Disney.

Basil of Baker Street.

A man of amazing intellect and know-how.

He solved cases and tracked down criminals with a high-rate of success that would've made his human counterpart proud of him.

Over the years he'd been in the business, Basil had met numerous people of all shapes, nationalities, and personalities. Some good. Some bad. Some plain. Some odd.

But one person who stood out among them ever since he and the detective clashed on that fateful October night never left Basil's mind, even when the image of his yellow eyes and sharp teeth were pushed to the back of the mouse's thoughts.

Professor Padriac Ratigan.

The most legendary and feared villain London, and perhaps even the world (of rodents anyway), had ever known.

Yes, too far often, Basil found his grasp at the notorious scoundrel close but never close enough, his hands always attempting their hardest to capture the fiend and send him to prison for all eternity.

Only for Ratigan to slip away every time, his booming, cackling laughter haunting Basil even in his dreams and moments of peace.

Basil hated the influence that cunning rat held over him.

But deep down...he lusted for it as well.

Before their fateful encounter, Basil, though he'd held a passion for his work, ever since he'd been a lad, at one point found his success lacking. The captures at some point had become so monotonous, so repetitive, the mouse wondered if there'd be any real challenge for his brilliant mind.

Then Ratigan came along.

He came along and turned Basil and his world on both their heads.

His methods, his plots, his lack of moral restraint disgusted Basil when the mouse detective first heard of his exploits. 'Yes, this is certainly a scoundrel who will not see the sun again after I'm through with him.'

Ratigan escaped the second Basil arrived.

And it happened that way the next time.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Basil felt his desire grow into frustration and his frustration grow into obsession. He wanted nothing more than to seal this criminal behind bars for all eternity.

He just never imagined he would have attained the man this way.

Black gave way to light as Basil opened his eyes, emerald recoiling a bit by the illumination that shone through the windows. Smacking his gums, the slender rodent turned on his side.

...Only to be face-to-face with the slumbering visage of Ratigan himself.

Basil didn't bat an eyelash, but he sighed, no longer nonplussed. 'There are no words for this, are there?'

No, there weren't.

Granted, decent folks like Dawson or Mrs. Judson, for example, would have been aghast at the sight, let alone the idea, of the sleuth they'd known for years actually sleeping with the man he'd been hunting down for years.

As Basil lay back again and trained his eyes on the ceiling, he reflected on the events that led up to him being in this position.

Everything started two months ago, when Dawson approached Basil and merrily informed him of a young lady who had caught the old soldier's heart. At this announcement, Basil, being the sort of friend he was, congratulated his partner in justice and wished him a happy and healthy marriage.

He hid his pain well.

Basil did not believe in love. Once upon a time perhaps, but that had been back then, when he had been younger and naïve. And on the off-chance he did find himself attracted to someone, some sort of deal-breaker never failed to rear its ugly head and convince him otherwise.

But he believed in happiness.

For that reason, he regarded Dawson's infrequent visits with no resentment...only sadness.

Despite his logical and sometimes cold exterior, Basil secretly craved the attention of other people. He'd show off his skills of deduction and analysis for no other reason than mere interaction.

This craving, in a sense, could be considered residue of his childhood. Basil wasn't as..."appreciated" back then. Being an orphan, he struggled and coveted for even the slightest hint of attention, something that did not come often for the parentless, especially those with his eccentricities.

Therefore, when Dawson departed from Basil's daily routine, the mouse detective instantly reverted to those lonely childhood days, days spent in his dark room, pouring over book after book in an attempt to distract himself from the constant lack of companionship.

Which was exactly what Basil of the present tried to do—the books were hollow comforts.

Music could no longer lift his spirits either. His violin was no good.

Everything he could think of—every comfort, every escape—did nothing.

Well...almost everything...

He did try one thing. It was something he'd been doing in secret every now and then since he entered adulthood, something even Dawson never knew, although he quit after he met the good doctor.

Liquid cocaine...a.k.a. heroin...

The seedier districts of London had this stuff by the droves, so Basil intended to slip over there incognito in order to retrieve the only relief he felt he had. He never got to the door.

His uninvited guest saw to that.

Basil had barely opened the closet entrance that housed his numerous disguises before a hand shot out from the dark interior and slammed a cloth full of some substance over his face, the effects of whatever that cloth contained almost instantly knocking the mouse out cold before he could even register what was happening.

The last thing he saw before blacking out was a pair of hauntingly familiar yellow eyes.

Basil groaned in annoyance, rubbing his eyes with one hand. 'I can't believe I let him overpower me so easily. Then again, Ratigan was never one to play fair.'

"O, I see my little detective is up!" A deep, snarly voice chuckled. "Is something wrong with my little mousie? He seems a little steamed this morning."

Resisting the urge to growl at the sickly sweet baby-talk, Basil shifted his head to discover Ratigan wide awake and peering at him with toothy grin. "Oh no, I personally enjoyed being ambushed in my own house, dragged to my room, and then waking up in time to have my no-longer dead mortal enemy make a sex slave out of me until the dead of night."

The burly rat tsked as he placed a gentle paw on the detective's cheek and began stroking it. Ratigan felt his annoyance shift from mock to real at the lack of response from Basil. "Well, you certainly can't be too out of it if you're already willing to get smart with me. I'll have to fix that."

"Keep trying, you sewer rat," Basil scoffed in a low tone, "You might just break me by the time my fur is grey."

Ratigan narrowed his eyes and neared his face to that of the smirking, unabashed mouse. "Sooner than you might think...you best choose your next words wisely, Basil. I tend to take things rather...literally."

Basil's smirk only became more pronounced at that threat. He was no fool, pride withstanding; he knew how dangerous Padriac could be, especially when provoked far enough. On the other hand, Basil wasn't exactly the type of mouse to play it safe either.

"Oh, then by all means you contemptible sewer rat, don't let me spoil your ill-begotten fun."

No fear plagued Basil as Ratigan slowly stalked over him, hip over hip, the larger rodent's weight and muscle pressing down on him, his paws gripping the mouse's wrists and pulling them back so that they lay past Basil's head.

Ratigan leaned in and matched his rival/lover smirk for smirk.

"With pleasure...but first"—his face, to the smaller rodent's curiosity, became more serious as the rat moved aside, allowing Basil to sit up—"why not tell me about yourself?"

'Tell him about myself?' Basil furrowed his eyebrows at that question. Didn't his arch nemesis know him well enough?

However, as the detective pondered the question more carefully, he quickly started to realize where Ratigan was coming from. As much as on each other's minds as they were, Basil couldn't quite say that he knew Ratigan very well beyond the man's crimes and reputation. He knew the professor was brilliant (as much as admitting so pained the sleuth), even if in a demented way. And Ratigan had no shortage of creativity either, as evidenced by his ranged repertoire of wrongdoings.

And with that being the case, one could just as easily conclude that Ratigan lay in the same boat as well. Being one's enemy, after all, only guaranteed knowing the details of your opponents that could prove advantageous to you; it didn't guarantee that you truly knew them.

But then another question coursed through Basil's head, one that made the mouse stiffen and glare at Ratigan in caution: "What are you playing at?"

Ratigan, to his credit, merely pouted in mock hurt as he slipped on his regular clothes (minus his black jacket, top hat, and dress shoes). A glint in his eyes indicated the pleasure he gained from seeing the offense and disbelief in Basil's eyes—led on by the scoundrel for nothing.

"Oh Basy, you can be so cruel sometimes," Padriac continued, placing his hands over his heart for dramatic effect, "have I ever led you wrong?"

Basil merely glared.

Ratigan chuckled in response, his façade gone. "Smart man. But in all seriousness, I truly would like to know my enemy better."

"Ah, so that is your game. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

"And I intend to have you even closer than that, my little mousie," Ratigan whispered with telltale lust. His smirk became a naughty, toothy grin at Basil's blanching, the villain's mirth only getting stronger when the mouse, realizing he was still naked, rushed to clothe himself with as much dignity as he could save.

Basil paused in his actions halfway through putting his shirt on. It just occurred to him: his being flustered was exactly what Padriac wanted. 'Perhaps being so manipulated by this scoundrel is not so bad after all...just as long as I am allowed to give in return, of course.'

He looked back at the rat and smiled at him so serenely that his rival lost his smirk.

"Feeling confident, Basil?"

Basil merely kept smiling that same infuriatingly peaceful expression. Ratigan's irritation grew even more when Basil crawled to him and intensified his stare. When his left arm snaked around Ratigan's waist, his rival looked ready to rip his throat out.

"Why yes, yes I do, Ratty."

With a deep kiss, Basil assuaged the larger rodent's anger. As they parted lips, Ratigan moaned with full-hearted satisfaction.

Oh, how Basil loved that sound, much to his own surprise.

"So allow me to grace you with my story first."

Ratigan wrapped his right around Basil's waist in return. "By all means, my dear Basil, please do."

Hope you enjoyed!