The nights of London were usually quiet, but tonight was different. The sounds of police sirens echoed throughout the night, and the flashing blue and red lights painted the building around. Police surrounded a body on the floor. Sally Graves lay dead on the floor with a pool of blood surrounding her. According to the security guard, He was watching the cameras that night and saw the lady walk out of her room at around 2:50 AM. She made her way to the top of the building and jumped off.

  "What was she doing before she jumped?" an officer asked.

  "Not sure, when I saw her approaching the edge, I ran as fast as I could to the top of the building to stop her," he said." he said, "When I got up there, she was already dead,"

  The officer took notes before thanking the guard and walking away. Investigators and Forensics took samples and pictures of the body before allowing the body to be taken away by the Medical Examiner. The loss was quite devastating, just like any other death would be.

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  Grace Avery stood in front of room 221 like a parent waiting for their child to wake up for school. "Basil!" she yelled, knocking on the door. She had come for one reason. After the success of their last case, she began to trust Basil's skills despite his shenanigans and childish behavior. So she decided to investigate yet another case with him, regarding the death of Sally Graves. But Grace was getting slightly impatient. Finally, by the fifth round of knocking, she heard something—a loud thud, followed by loud, fast footsteps.

  The door finally crept open, "What what?!" Basil said in an annoyed tone.

  "Finally." Grace replied, "Have you any idea how long I've been waiting?"

  Basil's annoyed tone faded as he looked at her, "Have you considered that maybe I was ignoring it on purpose?" he said.

  Grace gave him an awed expression, "The nerve of him!" she thought.

  Basil sighed as he scratched his head, his eyes looked as lifeless as dead plants, and his face was pale in color, "sooooooo? What do you want?"

  "Can I come in?"

  "Ummm, sure."

  Grace slowly stepped into the messy place Basil calls home. Things haven't changed since their last case; the paint job is still uneven and multicoloured, the coffee table is still messy, and the stacks of novels on the floor are still piled like little buildings. But Grace noticed that just behind the armchair was an evidence board, one that Basil didn't own before. But the things on it were messy, there wasn't any clear direction, but this was Basil we're talking about.

  "What's the board for?" Grace finally asked with curiosity.

  "You remember what happened with William Fate?"

  "Yeah? Died, and his body was gone."

  "Correct, I'm trying to find the killer. More specifically, his funder," he said, "William said his name was Que before getting shot, he was cut off before he would reveal anything. But I think this funder's name doesn't start with Que, but is Que, hence the letter "Q" painted in blood on the bench."

  Grace stared at him, rambling. It's not the first time she's seen him do that; his mind is like a never-ending storm. Nonetheless, it somehow amazes her every time.

  "Anyways, why are you here again?" Basil said, his "serious" tone completely gone, replaced with that same annoying tone that can make anyone go crazy from frustration.

  "Oh, right." Grace said, "There's a case of a woman who jumped to her death. I want you to help us, just in case we missed anything."

  "Oh ho ho~?" Basil grinned. "I feel so flattered that you trust me more than your own team," he said, his face wearing an innocent smile.

  But Grace wasn't amused. Looking at that dumb face, she turned and left without a second thought, leaving Basil there alone.

  "sigh..." Basil said as he grabbed his coat and followed.

  A few moments later, the duo arrived at the apartment. The building was huge, maybe around twenty-seven floors, and looked well-maintained. Based on the outside, it clearly looked like a place for the rich. But Mr. Basil House paid no attention to the useless details; instead, his focus was on the cameras, which were located nearly everywhere around the building.

  Following Grace into the lobby, the very first thing they asked was to see the security footage of that night.

  "Um, yes, of course," one of the security guards said as he guided them towards the security room.

  The security office was quite small. Looks more like a storage area than a security office. The guard booted up video logs, looking for the footage captured the night before.

  "Here," he said as he turned to leave, "take your time."

  Once he left, the two got to work, scouting the cameras to find Sally Graves, and sure enough, they found her... and it wasn't hard to miss. In the silent night, Sally is seen leaving her room in a white night gown and her hair over her face, like some kind of ghost. Basil and Grace watched her slowly move out of sight of the camera and into sight of another camera, just slowly walking towards the elevator.

  "What the...." Grace muttered as she watched this... bizarre scene.

  As they switched to CAM #47, the one and only camera at the rooftop, they saw it. Sally made her way to the edge of the building and then... she started to dance. Basil, seeing this, leaned forward with curiosity. His eyes narrowed at the strange sight.

  The dance wasn't smooth; it didn't even look like it was supposed to be paired with music. It was ridged, soothing in an odd, strange way. And most importantly, it was almost... no, it was ritualistic. Once the dance was gone, Sally stepped off, falling to her death.

  Grace stared at the screen with a priceless expression; even Basil was baffled.

  "What did we just watch...?" Grace said in an awed tone

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  "good question..." Basil said slowly, "What's going on here...."

  With a sigh, Basil stood up and made his way out, "Let's go, Grace!" he said.

  Grace followed; she prepared to listen to a long speech of deductions by Basil, but it never came. Perhaps even Basil couldn't make something accurate without enough data. But that would be solved soon.

  Arriving at the 17th floor, they knocked on room 1738, waiting for a response. It was only when Grace announced that it was the police did someone finally opened the door.

  "Yes?" the man on the other side said.

  "Good afternoon, Mr. Graves. We're here to investigate your wife's death." Grace said politely, "We would like to ask some questions."

  The man opened the door more now, welcoming them into his home. "Yes, of course," he said with a tired tone.

  The man was quite young, possibly in his early 30s; his eyes were tired and darkened, and his whole demeanor was downcast.

  "hmmm... a doctor, huh?" Basil said suddenly, "And a surgeon. quite impressive."

  Surprised by the sudden comment, Mr. Graves turned and confirmed Basil's comment. He was indeed a surgeon, but how did Basil know?

  "Well, it's very simple," Basil said, "You're very well dressed and groomed, this tells me you're a man of high education. You have dark circles under your eyes, which some people may mistake for grieving, but I think it's due to lack of sleep. Your walls hang prizes and rewards from various hospitals, and finally. Your right hand has a very small, very thin scar, most likely left by something extremely sharp, like a scalpel."

  Shocked, Mr. Graves looked at Grace awkwardly, to which Grace only gave him a look that suggested that this wasn't the first time Basil had done something like this. Basil was the type of detective to proform, to make his deductions dramatic and make himself look like the smartest in the room.

  "Such a show off," Grace muttered while smiling.

  The three of them sat in the living room on a very nice leather couch. The place was indeed very nice, the walls were painted smoothly, and the white paint made the place look extremely sharp and clean. The living room was spacious, organized, and every corner had some sort of expensive decoration, like a vase or paintings.

  "So, Mr. Graves." Garce began, "How was your relationship with your wife?"

  "Sally and I lived happily here. I loved her dearly, and she did too." Mr. Graves said, "Honestly, if I had believed in her, she wouldn't have died..."

  Grace's eyebrow rose, "What do you mean?" she said

  Mr. Graves looked up with sorrowful eyes, "You see, for a few weeks now, Sally has been going through a lot of mental health issues. She's been talking about how 'the gods are after her' and how at night, she would hear chanting in our home."

  Grace's eyes paid full attention once hearing that, pulling out her notepad and taking notes of everything the sad husband said.

  "At first, it was only in our room. But then she started to hear them everywhere."

  "Can you give us an example?" Garce asked

  "Hmmm, around a week ago maybe...."

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  The Night was dark and peaceful. Mark Graves was sleeping soundly in his bed before getting woken up by a sound in the kitchen. Looking beside him, he noticed that his wife, Sally Graves, was now gone. Slowly, Mark got up and made his way to the kitchen to see what the sound was. To his surprise, what stood there in the kitchen was her wife, looking panicked, maybe even a bit crazy.

  "What are you doing?" Mark asked in a sleepy voice. But that tone quickly disappeared once he noticed the knife in her hands.

  "I-I'm hearing it again." Sally said frantically, "It's here... It's here now!"

  As she spoke, she started to swing the knife wildly, her eyes widened, and her body twitched from fear, stumbling back and forth.

  "Hey, HEY!" Mark cried as he tried to calm his wife down, "They're not real, alright? It's all in your head."

  Hearing this, Sally snapped. Her head flicked towards Mark, and she slowly walked towards him, holding that cold kitchen knife tighter and tighter.

  "You think I'm crazy, don't you?" Sally said, "YOU THINK I'M CRAZY JUST LIKE THE REST OF THEM DON'T YOU?!"

  Mark saw Sally slowly raise that knife towards him, "Hey, hey! Sally!" he yelled, "CALM DOWN!"

  Sally swung the knife, barely missing Mark's cheek. Then she fell the the floor, breaking into tears. That night ended with Mark holding Sally in his arms, comforting her, supporting her, helping her...

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  Mr. Graves' head was down, his eyes tearing up as he told Grace the story, "If I had just believed in her. She wouldn't have died..."

  Grace looked at him with empathy. She stood and walked over to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, comforting him. But when she glanced at Basil, she was disappointed to see him staring at the ceiling, dozing off. He wasn't paying attention at all when the husband was speaking.

  To Basil, what's important to a crime is the things he sees; any emotional backstory is only good for a potential motive and nothing more. Even so, despite what it looks like, he did think what Mr. Graves said was interesting. A woman hearing chants? This, paired with that weird dance she did before dying? This was a gold mine for him, like a child going to an amusement park, so many things to see and do, so many things to think and investigate.

  But what got him more interested wasn't the story, wasn't the body, or even the case itself. Smelling something, he stood quickly and followed the trail of aroma, much to Grace's confusion. Arriving at the kitchen, Basil stood in front of a pot of fresh spaghetti.

  Basil turned to Mr. Graves with a wide grin, "May I?" he said.

  It seemed that Mr. Graves didn't process what he had said. How could anyone? It's not often you see detectives want your food after you've just shared a sad story. Nevertheless, he handed him a bowl and a fork.

  "No, no, of course, help yourself."

  Without a second thought, Basil took the bowl and fork and helped himself to a big scoop of spaghetti, and began to eat. With his mouth full, he turned to the shocked husband once more, "needs some Parmesan," he said with a blank stare.

  Mr. Graves' eyes shifted to the bowl, then to Basil, before opening a container that was beside the pot. Handing it to Basil, within was cheese.

  Grace stood there with her hands in front of her face, her eyes twitching with irritation and embarrassment, "For goodness sake..." she muttered as she watched.

  But Basil couldn't care less. He walked back to the living room, eating his bowl of noodles with happiness basically painted on his face because food often made him focus. Finally, he finished. Shoving the bowl into Grace's hands, he chugged his cup of coffee to wash it all down.

  Opening his eyes, he felt his vision clear up instantly. His eyes darted around the room, soaking up every bit of information he could see. He saw the positions of everyday objects, the dust on corners in the room, and even the faint smell of the room couldn't escape him.

  Mr. Graves looked at him with confusion, then he looked back at Grace for answers.

  "Don't worry, this is pretty normal for him."

  At last, Basil's eyes shifted to the red cabinet beside him. "Hmm, the paint is pretty fresh, no scratches, no dents..." he thought as he walked over.

  "Is this new?" he asked the husband.

  "Yes, we use it to store medical things and any sewing material."

  "May I?"

  "Of course."

  Upon opening it, he saw exactly what Graves said. Some fever and cold medications, a box of sewing things, but most importantly, Basil saw a few boxes of sleeping meds.

  "What are these for?" Grace asked as she leaned in to see.

  "Oh, my wife... due to the chanting she's been hearing... has been using those medications to help her sleep."

  Basil stared at the box, "Nathan's Family therapy...." he muttered before closing it.

  Next, Basil went to the balcony. Leaning on the guard rails, he looked down at the ground. He saw that the position of the balcony was just above the area Sally landed on when she fell to her death. But if that was the case, why didn't she just jump from the balcony? Why make the extra effort and go all the way to the very top? Dramatic effect? But then he looked up, and he saw the answer. He smiled as his eyes narrowed at the thing.

  "Interesting..."

  Leaving the balcony, he did a dramatic stretch as he headed for the door, "Let's go, Grace~!" he said.

  "wha?! Huh? I'm not done yet!" She said back, "I still have questions to ask!!"

  "Well, unless you want to hear him babble on about his wife, this place has no use for us."

  But just before leaving, Basil turned to ask a question that had been itching him. On the wall opposite the TV, there was an artwork, a collage of sorts. The pictures are pictures of chessboards, where the pawns on the board form a curvy "Y" shape.

  "May I ask what that artwork is? I am very curious," Basil asked.

  "Oh, one of the neighbors gifted it to me a month ago. I thought it looked nice, so I kept it."

  "I see... Goodbye."

  With Basil halfway to the elevators, Grace could only follow, "I apologize for my colleague's behavior," She said as she also left. Leaving only Mr. Graves to stand there in confusion.

  "What was that..." he said as he went to close the door.