TITLE: The Case Of The Lost Sibling
AUTHOR: Talepiece
RATING: 12 cert.
PAIRING: Vastra/Jenny
SERIES: The Casebook Of Madame Vastra
CONTINUITY: This is the first story in the second "volume" of the Vastra/Jenny stories.
SUMMARY: A concerned brother asks Vastra and Jenny to investigate the disappearance of his sister.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, please don't sue me
CREDITS: This story is shamelessly, er, borrowed from the Victoriana supplement The Rise Of The Red God (spoilers, Sweetie).
NOTES: I've slightly extended Samuel Birch's life for the purposes of this story.
POSTED: February 2014
Once settled into their new home at Paternoster Row, Madame Vastra and Jenny Flint returned to their life as the famed Great Detective and her trusted companion. The new year bought with it an intriguing case that took a most surprising and tragic turn.
Jennifer Strax Vastra-Flint
London, 1949
Madame Vastra surveyed the hallway of Paternoster Row from a new and unusual angle. She was on her hands and knees, staring with some malice at the flooring that stretched out before her to the door that stood at the entrance of the home which she shared with her friend and colleague Jenny Flint.
The unusual angle came thanks to the unusual human practice of keeping decorated foliage in ones abode during the Yuletide celebrations. Vastra had been baffled by the custom throughout the period and was now infuriated by the tiny little needles that defied her persistent attempts to remove them from her home.
She had swept and picked, picked and swept for days. Even in such an undignified pose and with all the wrath of a mighty Silurian warrior in her heart, she had proven no match for the insiduous little cretins. Master criminals might quake in their boots at nothing more than the mention of the Veiled Detective but pinoideae laughed in the face of her efforts.
"Well, Madame," Jenny said from behind her, "have you battled the evil into submission?"
Vastra stood slowly, "I have not, my dear. Indeed, I fear the battle is well and truly lost," she added in a bitter tone.
Jenny grinned, "Don't you worry, eh, I'll see to the blighters."
Vastra's scales flared for a moment before she inclined her head in surrender, "I concede to your greater experience. Though, perhaps we might adjust our decorations somewhat next year?"
"I dare say we might. Here," Jenny handed over a feather duster, "you try the dusting and I'll give it another sweep."
Vastra did as she was told, trading the dustpan and brush for the ridiculous - though oddly effective - device. She gave a delicate sneeze as the soft plumes wafted beneath her nose and looked up to see Jenny waiting for her to begin so turned to set about the already pristine surfaces of the hall furniture.
She was saved, as it were, by the bell; the front door ringing loudly in the confines of the hallway and startling them both. Jenny set the dustpan and brush aside and took the duster from Vastra, who quickly reached for the veil and gloves that were always left by the entrance.
Jenny waited until Vastra had donned both, taking the few moments to smooth down her apron and settle her bonnet over her dark hair. At a nod from Vastra, she opened the door and smiled down at a young man with jet black hair and a nervous expression. He shifted from one foot to the other as the door opened but straightened and stared at Jenny from a couple of steps below.
"I beg your pardon, Miss," he said in a gentle voice, "but I would like to speak with Madame -" he stopped, staring up at the imposing figure who appeared over Jenny's shoulder, "Madame Vastra?"
"Indeed. Pray, do enter, Mr...?"
"Hawthorne, Simon Hawthorne, Madame."
He took the last few steps and entered the house, removing his hat and allowing Jenny to take it before he peeled off his overcoat to show a well cut but slightly shabby suit that was just a little too short at the cuffs and ankles. He was barely in his twenties, Jenny thought, and probably only just full grown. She hoped his bank balance wasn't as short as his suit.
Resisting the urge to explain their fees, Jenny said, "Mr Hawthorne, why don't you join Madame in the sitting room. Tea?"
"No, thank you," he said, his eyes barely leaving the veiled face.
"The sitting room then," Vastra said and lead the way.
She settled herself into one of the comfortable chairs while Jenny encouraged the young man into the seat opposite her. She took up her customary station just behind and to the side of their visitor, her expression intrigued, if a little concerned.
"Now, Mr Hawthorne, what brings you here?"
The young man reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a small daguerrotype of the sort fashionable with the young middle classes. He glanced at it, the sadness about his eyes intensifying and then handed it across to Madame Vastra.
She took it and studied a picture of two young people who looked remarkably alike in facial features, despite the difference in gender. One was Mr Hawthorne himself, the other an attractive girl of perhaps fifteen years of age. Mr Hawthorne wore the same suit that Jenny had inspected so carefully moments before, though the arms and legs appeared a little better fitted. The girl wore a pretty dress and smiled broadly at the camera. They stood close together and it seemed the picture of contented siblings at first glance, though there was a melancholy to both faces when one looked more closely.
Vastra studied the picture for a moment more, committing the girl's face to memory before handing it over to Jenny, who studied it equally carefully. Vastra turned back to the young man and tilted her head in interrogation.
"My sister, Madame, Ellen Hawthorne, and my ward too."
"Lost your parents, did you?" Jenny said in a kindly tone.
"We did," Hawthorne turned in his seat to answer her question before turning back to Vastra, "Three years ago, an accident while they were on an expedition in Egypt."
"Blimey," Jenny muttered.
Vastra said, "My condolences, Mr Hawthorne. And your sister?"
"Is missing. Gone," he said in a small voice, "almost two weeks ago. I reported it to the Police but they didn't seem very interested. In fact, they implied some quite unpleasant things," his voice rose again, "Though I can assure you, Madame, that my sister is neither prone to flights of fancy nor to," he hesitated, "inappropriate conduct."
"I am quite certain that is true, Mr Hawthorne. You have a theory as to her disappearance?"
"Here," he said and reached into his pocket again, this time bringing out a thin piece of paper. Vastra considered it as he passed it over and said, "Ellen and a friend of ours - a Mr Hasan, who works as an assistant at the British Museum - went to this talk the evening before they disappeared."
"Both of them?" Jenny said, straining to see the paper that Vastra now read.
It was an advert for a lecture at the Eygptian Hall; one Doctor Victor Hewitt presenting a talk on ancient Eygptian temple architecture. Vastra remembered an older Silurian of her aquaintance who had spent much time above ground in that era of human history, had even managed to insinuate himself into the mytholgy of those peoples. From his descriptions alone, she would have thought the topic of their architecture quite dull. Though more recent knowledge made her a little more tolerant of the subject. Vastra passed the paper over to Jenny and turned back to the young man.
"So your sister and your friend attended this lecture and you never saw them again, yes?" Hawthorne nodded and Vastra continued, "And what did the Police have to say about the disappearance of this Mr Hasan?"
Hawthorne's worried expression broke into a moment of anger before he calmed himself and said, "Very little, Madame, they seemed entirely unconcerned with the disappearance of a," he hesitated and Jenny thought she could hear his teeth grinding, "gentleman of Akil's race. That is, until his employer at the Museum became involved and they realised that it was more than an illicit love affair."
"Indeed," Vastra said darkly, "You have considered the possibility that the two of them did indeed elope?"
"They were certainly very fond of each other, Madame, but I assure you, elopement would not have been required; I would have happily offered my consent to such a proposal. Besides, Ellen and I have always been so close, why would she run away like that when she knows me well enough to know that I would not have objected? Quite the opposite, in fact. And then," he began but stopped.
"And then there's these attacks," Jenny finished for him.
Since the new year, there had been three staggeringly brutal attacks. So brutal, in fact, that even the gender of two of the victims was yet to be established and none had been identified. The Police were - as so often - entirely in the dark and Jenny was expecting one of them to show up on their doorstep any day now, begging for the Great Detective's assistance.
"Each victim was found alone, Mr Hawthorne, which makes it unlikely that your sister and," she emphasised the word, "your friend were attacked in such a way. No, Mr Hawthorne, more likely this is a case of a disappearance, not a murder. Now, please tell us everything you can of your sister - where she and Mr Hasan would have gone before and after the lecture; her places of leisure and employment, should she be so employed; her general nature - and do so as fully but concisely as possible."
