Author's Note: Hey guys, Soph here! So if you guys read my Undercross story, you might remember that I mentioned "MysteryTale"? Well, this is MysteryTale, an AU I created inspired by Sherlock Holmes (no I didn't actually talk to him, he's fictional). The name is pretty self-explanatory so let's into the story!
Disclaimer: I do not own Undertale, that was created by the amazing Toby Fox. Everything else is my own creation, this includes any OCs and the plot.
Date: Friday, December 13th, 1920
Time: Late evening
Location: City of Ebott Police Department
Not much is known of the Dreemurr household. The newcomer would know that they are the richest family in the area. The common passerby would know that they have two children. The old timer would know that one of those children is an adopted human. The police force knows that they are hated and loved by many who live in this part of the town; the part that is owned by the monsters.
The police force knows that the Dreemurr family donates a lot of money to many new businesses that pop up, though only if they deserve it. The man of the household doesn't just give money to anyone who asks for it. Many businesses and monsters hate them for that and would kill to get rich if it means overpowering the Dreemurrs.
The police force knows this because of a certain private detective that always gets in the way but helps the force at the same time too. There's no question about it though. No matter how many times the chief and his officers try to get the detective to step down, he takes matters into his own hands and always beats the force to it. Every big murder case, every kidnapping, every precious item robbery, the detective's always on the scene, and that's the one case the police cannot solve. They can't solve how he gets things done.
The detective always claims that he is just one hell of a detective. That if he can't do his job right then what kind of detective would he be?
The police hate him for that but can't argue about it. He's right. He's always right.
Tonight though, a new case has arisen that have stumped the police as much as the detective stumps them. A murder case. A case they have dubbed the "Murder of the Rich." A chain of cases all seeming to be connected to each other but at the same time not.
The murders have been going on for a week now, each night the Devil claiming a new victim. Each night claiming the old men of the rich. The men that are old enough to die but young enough to live. A pattern.
Tonight though, that pattern changes but not for the best…
Toriel hadn't heard anything. No scream, no thud, no sound from the dining room. It was supposed to be a nice Friday evening with a nice dinner accompanied by a nice treat that she would prepare for the children. She knew her daughter likes to lead her son away after dinner and Toriel hadn't told them of the surprise treat so they slipped away. Apparently, a knife slipped away from the kitchen too.
Unnoticed.
Unheard.
Unclean.
The police were still investigating what happened. They were still questioning her and her husband. They were still there and he hasn't arrived.
The police were grateful. They knew they could handle this without his help.
Toriel knows otherwise though and she would've thought that the detective, a close friend of hers, would have shown up earlier. He always shows up right after the police does. Always. If not, what kind of detective would he be?
Toriel knew the questions made her nervous, she knew that if she was nervous in the questioning that the police would suspect her. She knew that but she continued to be nervous. The police were something she never liked. If the police were there, something bad happened. If the police were not there, nothing happened.
She preferred the questions from the detective. He knew what questions to ask- the questions that got him what he needed- and he was understanding with his clients. If that failed though, he would call up his deputy, a young monster following in the footsteps of his family.
She tried to keep calm though. As calm as she could be while still shaken up by what happened. The officer asked her to describe what she remembered and what she was doing before it happened. She told him, as truthful as she could be. She told him of the surprise after dinner, of how the kids had slipped away into their study room, of how a knife was missing while she was in the kitchen, of how her husband was away doing business. She told the officer all of it but she was still nervous. She was still guilty.
The officer took note of all of that and told her that everything is going to be OK and that she may leave now if she wishes. She refused to leave the scene. She was waiting for the detective but God knows where he is.
The snow continued to fall, softly, like small angels. Would Toriel's children be up there? Would they be happy in heaven? Are they one of these small angels, trying to comfort their mother? Did we even realize that they died?
Did they still love their mother? Toriel wanted to know what they thought. She wanted to know if they would forgive her for not knowing earlier. She wanted to know so badly, so that she won't live with regret, with guilt. Would they still smile? We're they smiling down on her?
Toriel swore she felt a small, fuzzy paw touch her shoulder. She swore she saw the cunning face of her daughter, the kind and friendly face of her son. Can they even smile? Toriel hoped they were, that they forgave her for not protecting them.
She was a horrible mother. No mother in her right mind would let their children die without putting up a fight. Did her children put a fight? Did they fight Death or just accepted it? Did Asriel have to watch Chara die first or vice-versa? She hoped that they had died at together so they wouldn't have had to have been burdened with the sight of their sibling dying as their final moment.
The officer had already left her alone. Toriel could her the scratching of his pen. Was he writing down kind words? Or just evidence? Did he have any sort of understanding of what Toriel was going through? In a way, that would be good, it was good to be comforted. In another, it was bad, it was bad to have experienced a death.
Toriel opened her paw and held it in the air. Two small snowflakes landed on it, but it didn't make her shiver. No, not one feeling of cold. It warmed her heart, making her feel happy again. Happy… Did she already lose how to feel that? Can she only know sadness and guilt now? What would Asgore saw of this?
The two snowflakes melted in her paw, melting from her warmness. Well, at least Toriel knew that her two little angels had forgiven her.
She smiled and she was sure she felt two little angels smiling back down at her.
A/N: So how you guys like this? Is it good? Does it feel like a mystery? Most of the events that would happen in this AU follows the timeline of Undertale but Frisk does exist at the same time too. Also, once the real story begins, I encourage you guys to try to guess who killed the Dreemurr kids! I'll tell you when to start but feel free to theorize at any time guys!
Damien: Oooh! Is this my story?
What? NO! Your story isn't out yet.
Damien: Dang it, I was hoping it was.
Why would you think that? It's about child murder.
Damien: Well my life IS pretty weird.
Just close the door on your way out.
Damien: Fine.