Hello everyone! Yeah I'm starting a new story but this one I actually plan on finishing. Had this AU idea for a while now but only just came up with a plotline to go with it. Originally planned this to be a family based story and it still is, to an extent, just also a murder mystery.
Warnings for blood, violence, both homosexual and heterosexual pairings and general vile Victorian life.
Enjoy and please review/fave/whatever.
…
The shopkeeper was dead. Killed. Murdered. Lying in a pool of his own blood, the red stains creeping slowly across the cobblestone like serpents, long liquid fingers trickling in the gaps between the flat stones, creating gruesome streams; the sticky liquid dripped into the gutter and disappeared down the drains, each drip heard through the silence of the city. The origin of the blood was the jagged rip in his chest where a large knife had carved him open. Flesh viciously torn. Leaking blood.
The man's face was pale, still warm and fresh; eyes wide open but unseeing as his killer stood over him with a stony expression, wiping blood from his dagger with a cloth, though he was covered in the stuff himself, his stained white shirt covered in a long dark coat that reached his knees. Then the murderer began to slowly, shakily, walk away. His work was done.
He needn't rush, the killer decided. Hardly anyone was out at this time. No one would know it was him. There was no evidence, and no one even knew he was in the city yet.
He didn't mean to though. It was an accident! He knew he had a temper, but it had never been this bad before. The shopkeeper had made a passing comment… then there was a blur and next thing he knew the man was dead. He was terrified of himself, and how much he wanted to do it again. Would anyone notice if he did it again?
Ah the city of London: so large and cold that no one cared if a man had been murdered except that it made a good story for the press. Something to work up a silly fear in the more excitable, something to speculate for the calmer.
"That should teach you," he muttered to the lifeless body as he left, laughing nervously, "Piece of scum, for trying to rise out of your place."
He got no reply except for the slow drip of blood.