Grace woke up the next morning with a killer headache. She doesn't remember much from the night before, only that they ate dinner, as well as what Basil had said to her. But as she thought, she noticed that Basil himself wasn't here. Wasn't in his couch, wasn't on the floor, wasn't even in the kitchen. She slowly stood up, she saw empty wine bottles on the floor and table, empty plates of food on the coffee table, and utensils scattered around the floor.

  Grace didn't want to do anything; she wanted to crawl into her bed and drift off to sleep again. But she couldn't, because the first thing she saw on her phone was an email from Mr. Virg.

  Dear Agent Avery,

  It has come to my attention that you have recently taken on a new partner, Mr. Basil M. House. I am aware that Mr. House has proven useful in several investigations and has contributed to the successful closure of multiple cases under your supervision.

  However, I must remind you that Mr. House is classified as a consultant, not a sworn detective or agent. As such, his involvement in active cases requires prior authorization and formal approval from this office. At no point was I notified of his continued participation, nor was permission requested. This constitutes a direct violation of agency policy and operational protocol.

  Given the seriousness of this oversight, I am requesting that you report to my office today at 1:30 PM so we may discuss this matter further. Mr. House is to accompany you.

  Failure to adhere to established procedures will not be overlooked.

  Sincerely,

  George Virg

  Grace stares at her scream, groaning in annoyance, "for goodness' sake...." She said. Never has she ever gotten an angry email from Mr Virg before; she was always by the book by cases and with her job, so this was... disappointing. But the annoyance, like many things, can come later. For now, she must figure out where Basil was.

  .

  .

  .

  Basil stood like stone, staring at the parking space. He could not theorize without sufficient data, and right now, data is at an all-time low. The only thing he has is that fish scale, a faint fishy smell, and the fact that Stella most likely placed the bin near the entrance. He was missing something; he knew he was. Every good mystery must have sufficient clues, you can say he's been reading too much Sherlock, he says his logic is absolute. He looked hard, staring at the black pavement of the parking space, he saw how aged the whole lines were, now many cracks were there as well as the tire mark.

  "Wait...." Basil narrowed his eyes and he bent down, "tire marks... from the looks of it it seems like the driver sped away." He said, generally touching as if examine art.

  Then Basil smiled and chuckled at himself, "of course, why didn't I think of that?" He said as he paced back and forth, "fishy smell, white van, fish scales... this must be a van that carries fish products, a supplier of sorts. He must have left in a hurry." Basil mumbled, now sitting down, his head dropped as he closed his eyes.

  Him his mind, he imagines the layout of his surroundings, like Google Maps, but in his mind. 15 total places could have sold fish, half of them were big chain supermarkets, so it couldn't be them, after all their suppliers would be driving a truck instead of a van, meaning it must have been something small. "Perhaps a small family shop, or a small restaurant," he said.

  Out of the seven possible options, four of them, Basil eliminated due to being too far, "no, the driver rushed to leave in the dead of night, meaning he was panicking. It must have been somewhere close."

  The options were a small cafe, and the other two were family-owned shops. But Basil couldn't wait, "Eh, worst case scenario I get Grace to go run some errands."

  "Who's gonna run some errands?" A voice cut through Basil's thought. He slowly turned around, awkwardly, to see Grace standing right In front of him.

  "Ah Grace!" He said, "I see you're finally awake."

  "Yes, hi, morning," Grace stated, as he pulled Basil back to his feet, "find anything?" She asked.

  "Hm, maybe. Not a lead but a theory waiting to be tested!" He said joyfully. Basil fixed up his coat, leaning towards Grace. He stared at her for some time.

  "Something's wrong. Did your boss email you?" He said.

  Surprised, Grace's mouth opened slightly, "how did you know?" She asked.

  "Well your face shows annoyance but also worry. And a woman wouldn't make that face first thing in the morning unless they've just been caught cheating or their boss is angry with them."

  Grace signed, turning around, she signalled Basil to follow her, "yes, in fact, my boss is mad at me because of you." She said.

  Basil stared at her for a new seconds, thinking what on earth he did to Grace's boss. "Say what now...?"

  Once again, Basil found himself at Grace's workplace, this time entirely on her terms.

  For the next thirty minutes, he sat in a chair like a child waiting for a parent to pick them up, watching people walk past.

  "That man is sleeping with his friend's mother", he thought. "And that lady reads smut in her free time."

  He grinned, biting back laughter.

  "Alright..." a quiet woman said, stopping in front of him. "Mr. Virg is ready to see you."

  Inside the office, Basil saw Grace seated across from Mr. Virg. He took in the room at a glance—the overly organized desk, the framed photo of a wife and children on the back shelf, and a small trophy that looked like it came from a middle-school baseball game.

  He sat beside Grace and met Mr. Virg's eyes without a word.

  "So," Mr. Virg began, "you must be Mr. House." He stretched out his hand.

  Basil didn't move.

  He was completely distracted by... something.

  Grace pinched his side sharply. Basil jolted and finally shook Mr. Virg's hand.

  Clearing his throat, Mr. Virg continued, "Grace, I'm sure you're aware that bringing in external help on a case without my approval is a violation."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Do you understand how serious this is?"

  "Yes, sir. And I promise this won't happen again."

  Mr. Virg studied them both, Grace, looking down in shame, and Basil, staring upward, utterly lost.

  "Mr. House," Mr. Virg said, a small smile appearing, "I've heard your name before. I'm aware of how effective you are, both before and after meeting Grace."

  "Really?" Basil's eyes lit up, a slow smile forming.

  "I've also heard about your attitude." The smile vanished; his voice hardened. "We, as detectives and investigators, must maintain professionalism. Grace has spent years perfecting that. What do you think people assume when her partner behaves as... childishly as you?"

  Basil raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. Professionalism? Why would that matter if the culprit was caught?

  "You care more about appearances than actually finding the culprit?" Basil asked. "If so, then I think you should—"

  Grace slapped a hand over Basil's mouth. "That's not what he meant, sir!" she blurted. "What he meant to say was—"

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  "Enough." Mr. Virg cut in. "This only proves my point. Grace, partnering with this man will ruin your reputation. He will close doors—doors that lead to opportunities and vital information."

  He folded his hands. "My decision is clear. From now on, Mr. House is not to step foot on any case. His consulting services will no longer be needed."

  "But—"

  "Dismissed."

  .

  .

  .

  Outside, Grace sat at her desk in defeat. Basil was practically forced out by Carwell, who seemed quite happy that Basil was gone. But Grace wasn't, without Basil, the process would be so much slower, clues would take so much longer to find, and.... Grace misses him. As much as she hated it, Bask brought life to her work; he was wacky, sure, childish absolutely, but he was exciting. Every Thor he proposed, every deduction he made, brought colour to a job full of red.

  For once, she couldn't find herself putting it off to the side like all her other problems; she found herself thinking about it, worrying about it, maybe even sad about it, because she had just lost a partner, one that she would not be able to find anywhere else.

  Basil, on the other hand, reacted very differently.

  The moment he was forced out, he went straight back to the parking lot.

  He didn't care that Grace was gone. He didn't care that her agency disapproved of him. At that moment, the only thing occupying his mind was the case.

  He pulled out his phone, searched the addresses of every place the van could have gone, and got to work.

  The process was tedious. He went from shop to shop, asking if a white van had supplied them with fish products. Unsurprisingly, every answer was no. Of course they said no—how was anyone supposed to remember exactly when their supplies arrived? Ridiculous.

  Still, he did get something.

  One owner casually mentioned that a white van had been getting repairs at a nearby mechanic.

  That bit of information made Basil both ecstatic and disappointed. Ecstatic, because it was finally something tangible. Disappointed, because it was only a chance.

  Regardless, he went.

  His disappointment proved justified.

  Eight white vans sat in the lot. Identical. Blank. Lifeless.

  "Ugh," Basil muttered. "So dull."

  As the sun began to set, Basil slowly made his way back to the humble bakery, his disappointment at an all-time high and his energy completely drained. He'd wasted the entire day running around like a cat chasing a mouse—endlessly, fruitlessly.

  He dragged himself up the stairs and unlocked his door.

  Room 221.

  His face planted directly into the couch.

  And then, inevitably, he thought about Grace.

  "Man..." he sighed. "I gotta admit—investigating without Grace is pretty pathetic."

  He curled into a fetal position.

  "No shy girl to bully. No bossy girl to challenge..."

  He stared at the ceiling.

  "How boring..."

  Basil muttered nonsense under his breath as his eyes drooped and his body relaxed.

  And finally—

  "Zzz."

  Basil snoozed away.

  .

  .

  .

  It was around 8:37 in the morning when Grace stood in front of Mr. Virg, blocking his way to his office.

  "You must let Basil back!" She said.

  She couldn't allow Basil to be kicked off the case when he had a lead, something real. That parking space had been the last thing they'd examined before being summoned to Mr. Virg's office the day before. That alone could have been the key. Grace wasn't about to let it slide.

  "Please, sir! Just give him one chance!" Grace cried, "You'll see how capable he is!"

  "Grace, I've said it before-"

  "Sir! Listen! She cut in, "I've been on two cases with him, he solved each in less than 3 days!" She exclaimed, "I dare you to find another detective in this building who can do that."

  Mr Virg rolled his eyes, he had not had his morning coffee, he definitely did not want to deal with Grace. But he still considered what Grace had said. Grace was serious about her job, and finding a man who could work with Grace and close cases in less than a week was not common. Perhaps this could be of use, but still...

  "That attitude of his really isn't helping..." he thought, but seeing how desperate Grace was, a rare sight in of itself, he looked up in the air, praying that he's not making a mistake.

  "Fine." He said, "if he does anything that makes me look bad.... He's out for good."

  Grace's face practically shined with all kinds of colors by how happy she was, "THANK YOU!!!" She yelled in excitement, only to get side eyes from workers walking by.

  "I mean-" she said, clearing her throat and looking around awkwardly, "thank you sir." She said before shuffling out of Mr. Virg's way.

  Grace quickly went to Basil's home she couldn't not wait to hear what Basil had to offer when she saw him. Perhaps a new lead? Or maybe he found out why that parking space was fishy?

  But when she arrived, her exit met quickly turned into disappointment.

  "Oh dear, I'm sorry." Ms. Anderson said, "Basil had just left a few moments ago."

  "Do you know where?" Grace asked, her voice gentle but her demeanor hinted that she was in a rush.

  "Oh you know him." Ms Anderson said with a sigh, "Always so mysterious, for all I know, he could be at a random house studying the nature of footprints."

  Grace chuckled, hearing this, she realized how familiar Ms Anderson seems to be with Basil. Almost like a mother or grandmother. Basil is quite lucky to have met a nice old lady like her. She nodded before turning to leave.

  "Ok ma'am," she said as she waved, "if you see him, please tell him that I'm looking for him."

  "Of course, dear."

  But Basil wasn't studying footprints, he was on the case. Currently, Basil stood in front of a shabby apartment in the poorer areas of London. He had remembered that Tomas' kid had gone missing, a crucial part of the case that he seemed have overlooked due to... distractions. Based on what he saw at the crime scene, he remembered that there was a picture located on one of the tool shelves in his work station. A picture of his son, as well as a girl beside him. He knew they went to the same school because of the background.

  From what Basil would remember, the background was slightly blurry but still had some details, specifically purple doors. Basil deduced that the school that best fit that description was likely a middle school named Yank's Middle School, located just 20 minutes away from Tomas' home.

  The rest was easy, look into the school's student list and find the girl and her address.

  The girl was named Angela Baxter, a 13-year-old girl, the same age as Tomas' son. Basil stood in front of the very apartment that Angela lives at, knocking the door, gently, but still commanding.

  Slowly, the door creaked open, looking down, Basil saw a little girl not much shorter the Grace herself. Her hair was a dirty blond color, her skin slightly tanned, and her eyes a soft Hazel.

  "Yes?" She said, her voice gentle, a little quiet.

  "You must be Angela." Basil said, "I'm with the police, can I come in to ask you some questions?"

  Basil knew she would probably say no. After all, the phrase "stranger danger" was pretty much glued into every kid.

  "Sure," Angela said, slowly stepping aside to allow Basil to walk in.

  He stood there for a moment, surprised that this little girl has the survival instincts of a dead rat. Regardless, he doesn't care, he's here to ask questions, not kidnap little girls.

  Walking in, Basil knew immediately the girl was an only child, the clean room, the pairs of shoes that only seem to fit her, plus it was Saturday, so if she did have siblings, they should've been home. Second was that the Girl only had one parent, a dad to be specific. Basil knew this based on the utensil only being in groups of 2, the shoes only had Angela's shoe, and the male shoes.

  Sitting down, the girl poured Basil a cup of water before sitting across from him in a chair.

  "I see that your dad isn't home." Basil said, "Being a single parent must be hard." Basil's voice was a lot more gentle, he knew this was a child, and so he couldn't speak like how he usually does.

  "Yeah..." the girl said quietly, "after mom passed away, my dad has been working many jobs." She said.

  "Do you love your father?"

  "Of course!" She said, "My dad is the best dad in the world."

  Basil smiled as he placed his cup down, "Alright Angela, I have a few questions for you." He began, "do you know a kid with the last name Sage?" He asked.

  "Sage.... Sage.... Sage...." Angela's eyes wandered around, thinking, "oh yeah! Johnny Sage right? He was my friend. Too bad he went missing, though."

  "Do you know anything else about him?" Basil asked.

  "Well he was pretty nice. After his disappearance, people said he was killed or something." She said, "isn't that weird?"

  "Yeah." Basil replied, "Such low optimism."

  But Basil continued, "do you know a man named Tomas Sage?"

  Angela shook her head, a lie.

  "He's Johnny's father." Basil said with his eye's slightly narrowed, "Stepfather."

  Basil studied her. She noticed how she looked down when he asked, his body tightening, and her lips pressed firmly.

  "You're sure you don't know him?" He asked one final time.

  "No." She said flatly.

  Basil sat there in silence, he knew the kid was lying, but why? Based on her reaction, it doesn't seem like she's guilty or nervous, but rather afraid, uncomfortable, or recalling something traumatic.

  "So." Angela said suddenly, "how were your parents? Did you have a single parent to?"

  Basil looked up in confusion, "huh?"

  The girl quickly looked down, "s-sorry! I'm just uhh... I'm just trying to make some conversation so it's not as awkward. It's ok if you don't want to share."

  Basil smiled, "I don't really know my parents." He said slowly, "I lived with my aunt for the majority of my childhood, so my parents are quite the mystery."

  "Do you want to meet them?"

  Basil stayed silent, he was lying. He remembered exactly who his parents were. He remembers the night his mother died, and he remembers the day his father was taken, he remembers how one second of distraction cost both his parents.

  Sensing the discomfort she has put Basil in, she quickly grabbed a piece of paper, "You know Mr Detective." She said, "Yesterday, my teacher gave us weird homework."

  She said this as she tried to make the thin piece of paper stand, "How to make a piece of paper stand upright?" She said.

  Each time, the paper flopped over. It seems impossible, how can a single piece of paper stand upright? But Angela tried again, each time failing. Finally, Basil grabbed the piece of paper and showed her how to do it. He folded the paper in half and set it upright, the crease holding it at a slight angle.

  Angela smiled, "This is too easy for you." She said.

  "Well... it's pretty easy once you-"

  Suddenly, the door opened. Both of them turned their heads at the door to see a middle-aged man wearing a tank top, a baseball cap, and holding two bags of groceries standing at the door, looking just as confused as them.

  "Dad..." Angela said, "You're back."

  Basil's mind suddenly flashed, that face... he's seen it before. Thinking back, he thought back to every face he saw the day before, walking in a freeze frame of the world, until finally he found it.

  At the mechanic, standing next to one of the broken cars was he. He looked at his hands, dirty, greasy, and injured. He looked at his face, also a bit tanned, oily hair, small mustache, eye bags.

  He snapped back to reality, looking at the man, he saw those exact things, dirty hands, oily hair, and a small mustache.

  "Who is this?" The dad asked Angela, his face still blank, but his eyes.... Basil could see something behind those eyes.

  "Shit..." he thought.