Hey! It's my first Prof. Layton fanfic, so no flames please?
I admit taking some ideas from 'Unwound Future', but only because the it worked with my plot and I liked it.

Enjoy!

10 years ago:

In a freak accident from an experiment in a nearby lab, the explosion caused several apartment buildings to combust. 38 people were injured and far more were killed or missing in the resulting inferno.

A young child, rescued among several others, was crying in the arms of the soon-to-be known Professor Layton, a brilliant archaeologist, college professor, and incredible puzzle solver.

"My parents and brother are still in there! Someone, please help them!"

"Quiet, child! Their building has already burned to the ground! We have to get you to the hospital; your back is terribly burned!"

"No! Mama, Papa, Liam…they are still in there! They are…"

The child's glowing blue eyes faded as they closed. A single word still lay on the lips of the youth, unspoken.

"Liam…"

Present time:

The orphanage on Wayside Street, contrary to most of its kind described in novels, was clean and well taken care of. The exterior was painted ivory, its shutters olive, and forest green shingles. Children played on its manicured lawn, while the older ones cared for the infants and socialized with each other and the owners of the home. One particular teenager, however, was not enjoying another beautiful day at the Wayside Orphanage. Rather, he had been particularly bored for the past ten years, and had occupied himself to investigating the explosion of that fateful day before arriving to the orphanage.

However, he had noticed that there were few articles and records of the explosion, and was unable to draw any useful clues or conclusions from the vague information he did have. As the young adult packed his few possessions into an old knapsack, he recalled the letter he sent to the renowned Professor Layton a few weeks back:

Dear Professor Layton,

Good day to you, Professor. I hope you are doing well, as I am most certainly not. I am writing this letter to ask of you a certain favor regarding the explosion that had occurred ten years ago in Central London, XX day, XX month, XXXX year.

I am sure that you have found little information about that day, unknown to most, but fateful to those like me. I have also researched extensively, but to no avail. However, in the midst of my hunt, I have discovered something quite strange that had been relating to the failed experiment. What is it, you may ask?

Upon my investigations in the ruins of the laboratory, I have found a charred book, though still legible, that read, Spirits in the Human World. Now, this may seem like a book that had only been picked out of pure curiosity, but I assure you, Professor, this most likely has more relevance than meets the eye. This particular book, you see, appears to have been thumbed through more than it should have been thumbed through. Although the writing is now faded and illegible, several sections have been circled, and strange equations and notes were scribbled in the margins of the pages.

I strongly feel that this book has a connection to the experiment in the lab. I am eager to investigate this strange event that should have been all over media. I would highly appreciate it if you would consent to meet me at the chapel on Wayside Street.

Yours Truly,
Dr. L- -ol-e
Ox-rd Univ-ity

The name had to be blotted out for obvious reasons. The boy knew that. He left enough letters to decipher the university, which he had faked going to. He only hoped that this Professor Layton was gentlemanly enough to not ignore such an obvious distress call.

Before slipping out the low window which faced the jungle-like back garden of the home, he checked his appearance in his full-length mirror. He was dressed in slender, straight-leg black pants and a white collared shirt, and a dark, pearly gray sweater vest on top. A checkered gray and navy cap sat on his head, his short, black bangs poking out from underneath. On his feet, he wore stiff, laced boots.

Finally, he walked slowly to his low bed and pulled out a battered violin case. He flipped it open, deftly unlocking the clasps, and viewed the instrument inside. The violin was much older than he was, although it was in a better condition than the case that held it. Running his slim fingers over the polished wood, he had on his face a perplexed expression, as if he was thinking of bringing it with him. After several minutes, he closed the case and strapped it on his back.

As he turned to go, he noticed a long strand of hair hanging from beneath his cap. Quickly, he tucked it in, then hopped out the window, his coat and knapsack in his arms.

A red, double-decker bus bounced cheerily down the London streets. On the top floor sat two people staring quizzically at a handwritten letter. The younger man, dressed in a blue jacket and beige trousers, a dark blue cap resting on his light brown hair, turned to his companion.

"Professor, are you really going to take this case? It seems so suspicious, especially with that signature!"

The older man, who was recognizable by his trademark top hat, responded quietly.

"Luke, my boy, a true gentleman never ignores the pleas of others. Even if we do not know the sender, I am well aware of this case he has presented me with, as it is fairly unknown to the world. I would very much like to know how he knows of this."

Luke sighed at Professor Layton's logic, then glanced back down at the letter in his lap. Ever since he had become the mentor's apprentice all those years ago, the two of them have been presented with countless, mysterious cases, which they had solved. But in all those years, even if he was an imposter, they were always sure of who had sent the letters to them. This one, though, was a first, and he was naturally suspicious.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the professor.

"Luke? I believe this is our stop." The professor smiled down at him as he turned and began to descend the steps of the bus.

"Ah—Professor, wait for me!" The younger man quickly packed up the mysterious letter before hurrying after his mentor.

After the bus drove away, the two men found themselves, squinting in the bright sunlight, in front of a small white chapel. Sitting in a bench was another young man. With his slender build and large blue eyes, he could have easily passed for a girl. Luke and the professor gaped as he stood up and strode towards them. He held out his hand and asked, "Professor Layton?"

The professor quickly recovered from his surprise as he shook the offered hand and replied, "Yes, that's me. And you are?"

The teenager smiled. "I apologize for lying to you about my identity. I'm afraid it couldn't be helped in my current predicament. In the letter, I may have seemed to be a college professor, like yourself, at Oxford University, but that is not who I am, quite obviously."

Luke was growing impatient. "Well, we know who you aren't, so tell us who you are!"

"Luke! Calm down, boy."

"Yes, Luke is it? You should know, child, that patience is a virtue. Although I cannot tell you who I am, I can tell you my name. Or rather, what my name is said to be.

"My name…is Liam Wolfe."

Just to add...if I get at least 5 positive reviews, I will continue this story. I just wanted to try this out and see if it appeals to those reading...so if you like this story please review!

Or it shall never continue...

Thanks!

~Wings