FicWad

It was approximately three thirty-four in the morning when the Chief Commissioner of the Rotterfeldt Police force knocked on the door of one-thirty-one Night End. The house itself was enormous, crouched on the property like a territorial gargoyle. It had been built in the victorian gothic style that had been popular eighty years ago, and was now a four-floored behemoth of grey stonework, spider-wired flower boxes, and was topped with a circle of wire fence on the top of the roof, like a too-small crown.

When the Chief Commissioner noticed that the knock had gone unheeded, the Chief Commissioner relented and rang the doorbell.
Near the top of the house, a light came on in one of the windows, and floated to the window, growing sharper the closer it got. The light then abruptly whirled away from the window, and the Chief Commissioner tracked the passage of the light all the way down to the first floor, where the door’s locks were pulled back.
The door was opened by a teenaged boy wielding a candle. His hair was standing up in the manner of a startled parakeet, and his burberry bathrobe was slipping off one shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, voice catching in the back of his throat until he was able to make a sound.
“...Wur...zel.”
Not the best of first impressions, but the Chief Commissioner was not to be put off.
“I’m looking for somebody by the last name of, ah, Freck?”

The boy thought it over, eyes lidded with sleep. “That would be me, I guess.”
The Chief Commissioner straightened up. “Good. I apologize for bothering you on such short notice, but there’s been a murder.”

“A murder?” the boy repeated, beginning to truly wake up. “Golly. Where abouts?”
“Scab’s End, on Drury. Do you know of it?”
He nodded. “Not the best part of Rotterfeldt. Want some tea, Miss...?”
The Chief Commissioner extended her hand. “Chief Commissioner Irene Adler, if you please.”

Commissioner Adler was taken back through a winding hallway. “Sorry about the dust, we haven’t had the time to straighten things out much, our parents used to run it but they died about six months ago,” the boy apologized, kicking a wayward umbrella stand.

The kitchen was somewhat clean, marble counters looking like they hadn’t been cleaned in the weak lights of the kitchen. “Uh, sorry, sorry, I haven’t, um, introduced myself to you. I’m Alvinius—Alvin, really. Alvin Freck,” he said, putting the kettle on. Commissioner Adler noted a fleck of bright blue on his tongue, and narrowed her eyes. Blue tongues were caused by antipsychotic medications. “Can you tell me what medications you’re on?”
Alvin started, then explained in a rush. “Uh, anti-depressants, anti-convulsants, and antipsychs. I’ve schizophrenia, nothing serious, just mild. Um, if you don’t want to hire me...”
“Believe me, dear, the line of work your family is invested in is definitely required for this case.”

Alvin grinned, getting out a mug. “And how! Monstrumology never goes out of style. I hope you like Darjeeling, it’s all we’ve got.” Standing on his toes, he reached into the back of a cupboard, pulling out a wooden box marked with TEA. “Can you excuse me for a spell? I have to go wake up my sister,” he explained, dropping the tea bag into the mug. “The business is a team operation between us, after all.”

Commissioner Adler flicked her wrist, dismissing him. Once safely out of sight in the hallway, Alvin did a quick-stepping dance of happiness that looked closely like the Charleston. Casework! Casework! Thank God monsters liked killing people!
Racing up two flights of stairs, he barged into his sister’s room without knocking.

“Kaylee! Kayleelin Charlotte Freck! Up! Case!” he hissed, kicking her bedframe. His twin sister groaned and shifted, nightgown bunching around her shoulders. “Now?”
“NOW!”
Kaylee rolled out of bed, short hair sticking up in little peaks. She pulled on the hemline of her nightdress, trying to make it longer. “Do I look okay? Who’s downstairs?” she asked. “You’d never guess! It’s the Chief Commissioner! It’s just totally Jazz!” Alvin responded, practically glowing.
At this news, Kaylee’s round face froze in horror. “What? When? How long has she been here! Oh, Tar! I’ve nothing to wear!”
“Now, Kaylee,” Alvin tried to soothe her. He’d seen his sister’s fashion conniptions before. “I’m sure she won’t care.”

Kaylee rounded on him. “Oh, really? You can wear whatever you want and still look like some sort of starving bohemian artist, but I’m won’t! A lady always cares about how she dresses! Now, get out of my room!”
With those parting words, Kaylee planted her hands in the middle of Alvin’s chest and shoved him out the door. Alvin crashed into the wall opposite and Kaylee slammed the door.

Ten minutes later, Alvin had managed to wrangle himself into an oversized red sweater and comfortable pants. Kaylee had yet to come out of her room.
“Oh, for Lord’s sake, sis! Nobody cares if you wear pants!” Alvin shouted, pounding on the door. “Yes they do!” was the tearful reply, followed by, “Should I wear the mint dress or blue one?”
“Lord above, Kaylee! Just put some clothes on!”

Kaylee yanked the door open, still not dressed. Her room was a mess of discarded clothes. Shoes, hats, and gloves had been flung every which-way, with dresses pooled on the floor. “I can’t choose what to wear!” Kaylee wailed, pulling at her hair. Alvin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Good gravy, just wear that one!” he shouted, pointing at a random dress. Kaylee eyed it critically. “You sure? It’s out of style right now. Could it be vintage, perhaps?”
“We’re gonna be late! Just put it on!” he spat, and got the door slammed in his face again for his trouble.
Kaylee re-emerged a few minutes later. The dress that Alvin had selected at random was a blue one with a fashionable dropped waist and black ruffles.

“Did you even brush your hair?” Kaylee asked, pulling a cloche hat around her ears.
“Does it matter?” Alvin responded.
“Did you take your meds?” was the second.
“Yes. You look the cat’s meow, sister, now let’s move!”
Kaylee shook her head, reaching into the mess of her room for a wool hat, which she pulled over her brother’s ears. Alvin hissed in disapproval.

Commissioner Adler was waiting in the kitchen, tea in hand. “Oh my. Up and dressed already?” she asked, soundly faintly amused.
Alvin had a feeling she knew what had happened.
“You must be Kaylee,” the Commissioner said, addressing Kaylee.
“I am her indeed. It’s so nice to meet you, Commissioner!” Kaylee gushed.
Alvin debated gagging, but decided against it. A small voice in the back of his head also told him to bite the Commissioner, but he quickly shut that up. Wandering out into the hallway, he managed to locate the briefcase his father used to use whenever he had an away case buried under a pile of rubber boots. His fingers tightened on the stitches in the leather.

_____________________________

Scab’s End was full of crumbling buildings that were pressed too close together. Rope clotheslines stretched overhead, dappling the moonlight. Stray cats lingered on overflowing garbage cans ringed with graffitied expletives in foreign languages. Alvin fidgeted, feeling watched and too cramped. The buildings seemed to be advancing on him, but only when he wasn’t watching them closely. Did anyone else here feel that way?

Commissioner Adler had one observation on the scene ahead of them. 
“Oh, Hell.”
Kaylee sucked in her breath, and Alvin raised his eyebrows. The three of them slid out of the blackness of the back road, away from the police-issued Landau and winced against the blinding flashes of cameras.

“Hey! Hey, you two!”
“Look this way!”
“Miss Adler!”
“Miss Adler! Who are they?”
Commissioner Adler ignored the mob of the press, until one of them broke through the throng to grab her sleeve.

“Miss Ahdler! Can I get a word for the D.P.?” the journalist asked, thick Cockney accent permeating that sentence.

She shook him off, then responded with a snarl. “Why, yes, Finnigan, I’ve got a word for you,” she narrowed her eyes. “Unfortunately for you, not even something as low as the Daily Prophet could print it.”
Raising her voice, she called to some loitering policemen. “Could you get these people back, please?”

Alvin fidgeted under the glare of the lens flashes. He felt sick to his stomach, with all those people watching him, and he could feel his hands fluttering uselessly at his sides. Too many people, too many people and not enough space-
His sister grabbed his arm. “You alright, Alvin?”
When he didn’t respond, she did, with, “Just try to breathe.”

________________________

The inside of the building was grotty and claustrophobic. The ride up in the caged, rickety elevator did nothing to steady the frazzled nerves of the trio.
“The victim’s not been identified yet. But whatever did it, we’re thinking it’s something big, judging by the mess left behind,” said Commissioner Adler.

Alvin’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Really? Has the Prime Minister been informed yet?”
Commissioner Adler snorted in derision. “Not likely. Moriarty’s been busy with the stabilization of the House of Justice after the Morgan case. I’m sure you heard about that?”
Kaylee piped up. “Oh, yes. Blood spatter analyzer, wasn’t he?”
“Oh my. You’re either very clever or you have access to information not in the papers.”
Kaylee’s cheeks flushed. “I just know somebody, that’s all.”

The elevator rattled and wheezed to the top of the shaft, caged door sliding back. “Here we are!” Kaylee commented cheerfully.

Alvin stepped forwards away from the elevator. The dingy carpet emitted a small puff of dust. Commissioner Adler stopped to talk with a Medic leaning against a door smoking a cigarette. Kaylee hovered between Alvin and the Commissioner, not entirely sure what to do or where to go. She tried to avoid listening in on the conversation, because it would be impolite to do so, but they were talking about the case, for goodness sakes!

“Nothing I could do by the time I got there. They don’t need a Medic here. They need a bottle, could pack her up in a thermos, what’s left. God, Irene, I’ve never seen anything this bad, not even in the war,” the medic said, mustache jumping in time to his words.
“Don’t worry, John. The two I picked up here know how to deal with this sort of thing,” soothed Commissioner Adler. “Damn if they do. They’re kids, Irene,” said John.
Kaylee’s attention was diverted by Alvin grabbing onto her arm. 
“Kaylee. He’s here.”
“Who’s here?” she asked.
“Sherlock Holmes!” he hissed, eyes darting around.

Kaylee sighed. “Can’t you let go of your stupid one-sided rivalry for one night?”
“And how! Kaylee, the man’s a complete and utter idiot! He’s arrogant and right now he’s out of his depth!” Alvin whined. Kaylee debated slapping him. If they weren’t in public, she wouldn’t hesitate. “Alvin, we need to be professional!” she responded, eyes darting around for anybody else listening in.
“I am professional!”

Kaylee shook him off, striding down the hallway. Alvin trailed in her wake, darting ahead of her to pull up the police tape.

The inside of the room seemed to be decorated oddly. The floorboards, the ceiling, and all the furniture seemed to be dyed red.
Kaylee was the first to recognize it first. “Ooh! Alvin! Blood!” she squealed, racing forwards. Alvin looked towards a homicide tech, and hooked a thumb at his sister.
“Women. Am I right, or am I right?”

Kaylee yanked on a pair of sterile gloves, analyzing the blood spatter with enthusiasm.
“I’m thinking something on two legs. Alvin? Are you getting this? Two legs! And big! Perhaps a werewolf, if they weren’t extinct!” she twittered.
Alvin looked around the grungy room. Why would a monster strike here, three floors up above the ground in a crowded area?
“My dear, I think you would find that it’s a white male, six-foot-three, using the help of several surgeon's knives.”
Alvin cringed. He knew what was coming next.
“It’s elementary, my dear.”

Sherlock Holmes. Alvin’s partial nemesis. He had a long hooked nose, half-lidded grey eyes, and walked with a bit of a stoop. Alvin glared, but didn’t say anything, resorting to grinding his teeth.

Commissioner Adler strode through the door, surveying the damage, and her eyes landed on Sherlock.
“Oh, Lord. Who let you into my crime scene?” she asked, looking less than impressed. Sherlock half-smiled. “I believe that it was the same corporal who decided to phone the hounds outside. Seeing as you don’t know who that is yet, it would be a good opportunity to do some background checks, no?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Holmes, I don’t want you on my crime scene,” Irene said bluntly.
“But I want to be here! I’m helping!” he protested, then cut a glance to Alvin, who was standing sullenly. “Who else will help you? These children? Monsters aren’t real, Irene. Just people, and they’re plenty dangerous on their own.”

“Oh, go back to Baskerville, Holmes!” Alvin spat, then clamped his teeth together with a click.
The nostrils of the uninvited man flared. “Says the boy studying a science reserved for fiction.”

“Nerve, Holmes! Says the man who bought his way into being a detective!” spat Alvin. A muscle in Holmes’ jaw ticked. “I worked harder than you ever have. And may I remind you that the science I practice is supported by fact, instead of by old wives tales?” Holmes snarled. Alvin stepped closer, trying to be intimidating despite the height difference between them. “I’ll have you know that Monstrumology produces some very interesting results, Holmes! What have you done recently? Gone across the sea to look at tattoos and get tanked on opium?” Freck snarled, glaring up at the taller man.
“Interesting results? What interesting results? Monstrumology hasn’t been relevant since-”

“TOOTH!”
The two men turned to Kaylee. She was brandishing a molar over her head proudly. “I found a tooth!” she said, somewhat unnecessarily.
“Ah. Good job, Kaylee,” Alvin said, somewhat rattled.
“Give it to somebody here for evidence, please,” Commissioner Adler requested, then added. “Don’t let Sherlock look at it.”

____________________________

Afterwards, Kaylee and Alvin were shunted unceremoniously into the hallway while Irene and Sherlock continued their argument.
“So nobody heard anything?” Kaylee asked a nearby medic. It happened to be the same medic that Commissioner Adler was talking to earlier, but Kaylee did not care at that moment.

“No, not from what I heard. Is Sherlock okay in there? Him and Irene have a history...”
“Nothing at all?” Alvin asked, narrowing his eyes.

The medic shook his head.
“It would be unwise to search the area at this hour,” Kaylee reminded him.
“Of course,” agreed her brother.

“Pos-i-lute-ly unsafe!” said Kaylee.
“And how!” Alvin agreed.

There was a silence.

“We have fifteen minutes before Adler notices we’re gone,” Alvin said suddenly.
“No jazz. We’ll be right back,” Kaylee trilled to the medic, and then raced to the stairs. Alvin nodded towards the man, and ran to the window. Jamming his fingers under the lip of it, he forced his body through, and dropped like a stone.