A/N: hi guys, i'm back. I thought as a way back in, I'd just rewrite this with my new style. Hopefully you guys will like it? Idk. If enough people like it, i'll consider rewriting all 3 and maybe adding a 4th.

Hope you enjoy! This was a pain to rewrite because it's just so bad.

Chapter 1: An old friend?

Katarina fingered the key in her hand, trying to support the collection of heavy books in her other. A quiet orange glow settled over the backstreets of London, giving it a lazy, sleepy feeling. Not a person was in sight, which was just the way the woman liked it.

She started to unlock the door to the used bookshop nestled quaintly in the narrow, mossy alley, but realized that the door was already was unlocked. A sigh of annoyance left her lips as she opened the door.

"Tell me, Mr. Dove, why do I even bother locking the door anymore?"

A young man wearing a dark blue cap and jacket sat in one of her armchairs pushed against the wall. He was handsome, with an almost permanent smirk, yet she didn't want to see him.

"No clue. At least you don't have to give me a key." He looked at her with a clever grin she knew all too well.

"Is lock-picking one of the skills you picked up from your fellow inmates?" Katarina retorted, setting down the books onto a counter where they were to doomed to collect dust until she finally shelved them. "Speaking of prison, didn't you just get out a week ago?"

"Solitary confinement. Better than getting my head chopped off though." He shrugged. "And yes, I did. I'm here to thank you for writing me. Once."

She rolled her eyes. She only did that because the professor wanted her to. To show support. But she could already tell he wasn't here to thank her. If he wanted to thank her, he could've asked the professor to do it. No, he wanted something else entirely.

Adjusting her glasses, the young lady turned around. "Sure. Now why are you really here?"

Clive's eyes darted to the ground and she knew she got him. No one could be that interested in the pattern of her rug. She cleared her throat, waiting for an answer.

"Professor needed me to ask you about something." He replied, giving her a casual shrug.

"The professor knows how to get a hold of me." She said, her voice steady and cold as she put books away.

"I needed to ask you something."

"About what?"

"A case. " He said and this time she could tell he was being honest. "You can't tell the professor about it."

"You've been out for a week and now you've decided you're a private detective? Jesus Christ, Clive…" She muttered.

"I'm not trying to be a private detective. It's the professor's case, but he won't let me in." Clive explained, sitting up. "So I decided to take it on my own."

"You're an idiot." She replied, tying her curly brown hair into a ponytail.

"That's a lie and you know it." He was right. He was smart, but he was also an ex-convict guilty of the biggest crime of the century.

He was an idiot though. No one went against the professor's orders, not even her. Even if you did, you would end up regretting it.

"Fine. Let's see it then, Mr. Dove." She sighed, glancing back at him from her shelves.

He slipped out a large folder stuffed with newspaper articles and photos that stuck out. He even went as far as to steal this… Katarina thought as he handed it to her. He is serious about this case…

"When is the professor going to want this back?" She asked, flipping through the first few photos. "Or better yet, when is he going to realize you stole it?"

"Soon. We better hurry."

A/n: I hope you guys liked it and please tell me if you did so i can decide if i want to continue rewriting these and using Katarina West as a character.