Great Mouse Detective

Basil:
There's always a chance, Doctor, as long as one can think.

Basil:
Don't worry, old fellow. It's not *entirely* hopeless.

Ratigan:
Oh, I love it when I'm nasty.

Basil:
Remember, Dawson, we're low-life ruffians.

Dr. Dawson:
Well, I was until that . . .

Basil:
Shh!

Ratigan:
Fidget, you delightful little maniac!

Olivia Flaversham:
You know, Daddy, this is my very best birthday!

Hiram Flaversham:
Ah, but I haven't given you your present yet.

Dr. Dawson:
Scoundrel's quite gone.

Basil:
But not for long, Miss Flamhammer!

Olivia Flaversham:
Flaversham!

Basil:
Whatever.

Basil:
Miss Flamchester!

Olivia Flaversham:

Basil:
Whatever.

Fidget:
Here you are, sweetheart.

The Mouse Queen:
Have you... been with us... long?

Ratigan:
Now, you will remember to smile for the camera, won't you? Say "Cheese".

Dr. Dawson:
You're... despicable!

Ratigan:
Hehe... Yes.

Basil:
Toby, I want you to find... THIS FIEND!

Basil:
Toby, I want you to find... this fiend!

Basil:
Yes, you know his type. Arf! A villain! Arf-arf! A scoundrel!

Basil:
Low brow. Close-set eyes. Broken wing.

Basil:
Oh. He's a peg-legged bat with a broken wing.

Basil:
Yes, Yes! Grr! That's the spirit! Grrr! Got his scent?

Basil:
Good boy! Good boy!

Basil:
Ratigan, no one can have a higher opinion of you than I have, and I think you're a slimy, contemptible sewer rat!

Ratigan:
Oh, my dear Bartholomew. I'm afraid that you've gone and upset me. You know what happens when someone upsets me.

Dr. Dawson:
How the deuce did you know I was a doctor?

Basil:
A surgeon to be exact. Just returned from military duty in Afghanistan. Am I right?

Dr. Dawson:
Why, ha, ha, yes. Major David Q. Dawson. But how could you possibly...?

Basil:
Quite simple, really. You've sewn your torn cuff together with a Lambert stich, which, of course, only a surgeon uses. And the thread is a unique form of cat-gut, easily distinguished by its peculiar pungency, found only in the Afghan provinces.

Dr. Dawson:
Amazing!

Basil:
Actually, it's elementary, my dear Dawson.

Dr. Dawson:
You fiend!

Ratigan:
Sorry, chubby. You should have chosen your friends more carefully.

Fidget:
I'm going! I'm going! I'm going!

Ratigan:
Thank you, thank you. But it hasn't all been champagne and caviar. I've had my share of adversity, thanks to that miserable, second-rate detective, Basil of Baker Street!

Ratigan:
For years, that insufferable pipsqueak has interfered with my plans, and I haven't had a moment's peace of mind.

Ratigan:
But all that's in the past! This time, nothing, not even Basil, can stand in my way! All will bow before me!

Sherlock Holmes:
I observe that there is a good deal of German music on the program. It is quite introspective, and I want to introspect.

Dr. Watson:
But, Holmes, that music is so frightfully dull.