A/N: If you don't like the plot or characters that I have placed, then don't read this story. If there are any mistakes, I solemnly apologise, I'm not very familiar with the 1920's era, especially Australia 1920's. But I will do some thorough research.

DISCLAIMER: All is owned by Kerry Greenwood and the amazing people who brought the books on screen.

WORD COUNT: 3,132

Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries

Dreams of Thieves

Chapter 1: The Street Rat and the Death.

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson sat in his office chair of City South Police Station, it was a quiet day for once, which rather unsettled him. He knew that if it was a quiet day today, a death would occur tomorrow. That's what he had taught himself in all of his policing years. There truly was no rest for the wicked -or those that brought the wicked to heel-. He could hear his Senior Constable, Hugh Collins, remarking to one of his fellow colleagues about how peaceful it was-

"Get your hands off me! I have rights, y'know!"

Then again, maybe not as peaceful as they were hoping.

"Let me go! I didn't do anything wrong!"

Jack sighed and slid out of his chair, fixing his suit somewhat before opening his office door to see what all the noise about. "What's going on out here?" He demanded, in his usual stern voice. He set his sights on the new transfer, Constable Harris. "Harris, what are you doing?" Jack asked, exasperated already, knowing that this was going to be a poor excuse.

"I caught this street rat, stealing precious valubables from the local art stall. I caught her red-'anded with at least a couple 'undred pounds worth of art supplies." Harris grinned at his superior, still holding the young girl prisoner, her wrists red from his tight grip.

"Let me go, you stupid idiot! It's valuables, you daft imbecile and I didn't steal anything, I was browsing!" The dark haired girl struggled in Constable Harris' tight grip. "You're hurting me! Let go!" She roared, her hair swinging in front of her face, so Jack couldn't tell what she looked like.

"Constable Harris, let the poor girl go, I believe you're bruising her." Jack ordered, silently agreeing with the girl's insults. Harris was probably the most incompetent police officer next to Detective Inspector O'Shaugnessy. "Do you have any of the stolen items?" Jack inquired, looking at Constable Harris with cold gray eyes.

"U-uh, no Inspector. . .I gave 'em back to the owner. He seemed adamant on the thought that she was stealing. And quite frankly, I think she was casing the stall." Harris announced, quite happy with his first arrest.

"Constable Harris," Jack started, sighing once more. "That has to be the most feeble excuse for an arrest I have ever heard. You have no proof that she was stealing, apart from stall owner's perception of this young girl and you let your own judgement be your cause for arrest. Add wrongful handling to your long list of misdemeanors. If I catch you doing something this reckless and stupid again, I will suspend you, pending a further investigation. Is that clear, Constable?" Jack watched as Constable Harris' face went to flushed with pride to pale with fear.

"Y-yes, sir." Constable Harris instantly unhanded the young girl and with his head down, cheeks flaming with embarrassment, he walked for the staff room.

Jack looks at the girl, taking in her appearance. A dirty, tattered dress, messy, nappy dark auburn red hair. Underneath all the dirt and grime, pale and unblemished skin. No shoes or socks on bare feet.

His heart stopped at her bony frame and the now purple bruises on her wrists. "Excuse me, miss. If you could. . " Jack gestured to his office and the girl stood, walking to his office without a word. She obviously didn't want to be felt sorry for. Jack walked behind her, closing the door to his office and gesturing to the seat opposite his.

She sat without hesitation and swept her hair away from her face and Jack was stunned to see her face.

A heart-shaped face, a small nose, full rosebud lips, warm green eyes that seemed to warm him from the inside. She didn't look like she belonged on the street, though neither did Jane and she had lived most of her life in the harsh living conditions she was dealt with.

"Did you steal though art supplies, or were you just looking at them?" Jack asked, although he already knew the answer.

"I was just looking. I picked them up to have a look. I had a few bob from my various jobs. i just help people out when they need it and they give me a couple of pounds. Then that stupid old codger though I was stealing and then he called over that idiotic police officer and here I am." The girl threw up her arms in exasperation, her green eyes brimming with sincerity.

"I believe you. What's your name?" He asked, trying to gain her trust with small talk.

"Anastasia. My name is Anastasia." She told him, looking up with one dark eyebrow raised. "What's your name? It's only fair."

Jack smiled softly and answered promptly. "My name is Jack Robinson, Miss Anastasia." Anastasia answered his smile with one of her own soft grins that didn't reach her eyes.

"It's nice to meet you, Officer Robinson." She said with a cheeky twinkle in her eyes and he lowered his head while still looking at her, responding to her look with a teasing one of his own.

"Detective Inspector, actually." Jack corrected. He didn't know why he was talking so openly with this young girl. Possibly because she reminded him of Jane, or because of the predicament she was born in, he felt sorry for her. In any case, she brought out something in him that he thought had died years ago, during the war. Much like Miss Fisher brought out the best in him, despite the fact that he was married to Rosie during the start of their partnership.

As he looked up, a furious Phryne Fisher barged her way into his office, her french perfume permeated the air and he reveled in the scent. It was by far one of the most exquisite scents he had ever had the pleasure of committing to memory, although he would never admit that fact out loud.

"Jack, I do hope you do something about that new transfer! He just grabbed this poor girl and marched her right away from this cart after the stall manager just screamed and carried on that she was stealing. I could tell she wasn't! I demand that something be done!" Phryne ranted, looking at Jack with barely restrained anger.

"Miss Fisher, what a surprise!" Jack said sarcastically. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?" He asked cordially, earning a scolding look from his lady detective partner.

"I demand that, that impertinent Constable be brought to justice, or very least, scolded horribly for his rash behavior!" Phryne demanded, not understanding Jack's amused look."Something amusing, Jack? Does the wrongful treatment of those less fortunate entertain you?" She knew it was a low blow, but she couldn't help it. She knew the struggles of being one of the less fortunate. She had also adopted one of the girls who had been thrust into that cruel lifestyle and learnt about the dangers that lurked around every dark corner and every alley. She was protective of them and only wanted to help each and every one of the poor souls subjected to the life that she lead before.

Yet Jack didn't look the least bit offended. He knew where her insults lay and that she poured no emotion in what would be cruel words, if she meant them. "Not at all, Miss Fisher. Just that for once, I'm two steps ahead. Meet Miss Anastasia, the wrongfully accused. I have already scolded Constable Harris and he is definitely paying the price. I doubt he will make a false assumption again as long as he is under my authority and I will make it my personal mission to make sure that none of my officers wrongfully accuse those that are less fortunate than they." Jack explained calmly, seeing the look of awe and joy as Phryne considered his words.

She smiled gently, her red lips upturned in a beautiful smile as all protective and angry feelings vanished and she turned to the girl. Her heart lurched in her chest as she studied the young girls features. She was obviously older than Jane and looked a lot more scuffled and a lot more street smart. Her dark auburn hair and green eyes were a contrasting factor in her appearance, as was her pale, unmarked skin. Although it was covered by dirt and grime. She was at least 17 at best. There was a cheeky twinkle in her eyes that Phryne instantly liked and an air of bravery and confidence that Phryne herself exuded.

"Hello, Anastasia, my name is Phryne Fisher. It's nice to meet you." She took off one white glove and held out her bare hand.

Anastasia eyed it warily, but decided that the woman wouldn't cause harm to her and slowly lifted her dirty hand and shook it with Phryne's clean one. Most people would turn their noses up at Anastasia, and they would only shake her hand with gloves on, but this woman took off her glove and met skin on skin. That, Anastasia admired. It made her seem less like an animal than what people made her to be. "It's nice to meet you too, Miss Fisher. And please, just call me Ana. Everyone else does." Ana said in a soft voice, obviously admiring the beauty of the woman in front of her.

Phryne let out a large grin. "Very well, and you may call me, Phryne. Though hardly anyone else does." She said, reciting the same line she had delivered to Jack, who remembered the fond memory with a grin.

"Thank you, Phryne." Ana said without hesitation.

"Well, since you are not guilty of any crime. I don't see why you can't go home now." Jack said, smiling gently at the girl. He was certain she had no home, but he didn't want to keep her from anything. Girls her age, still on the street, were probably looking after a younger group of children in the same predicament, hiding from Child Services.

"Thank you, Inspector Robinson, Phryne." Ana bid her goodbyes and walked out of the Police station, running down the street.

Phryne's eyes followed Ana's movements until she disappeared around the corner and then she turned to her Inspector. "I'm surprised, Jack, I would have thought that you would have had someone following her and then call Child Services."

"Normally I would, but I don't think I could do it now. Miss Anastasia seemed like she's got a lot on her plate. You know, as well as I, that a girl as old as her would have a younger group of children to look after. Those children probably look up to her, I don't want to leave them to fend for themselves while she's gone." Jack explained his motives, looking up at Phryne who nodded in agreement with his statement.

"A young girl like Ana, would be under so much pressure, looking after a group of children and making sure they are fed and have a place to lay their head for the night. Without the worries of Child Services breathing down their necks. Those places. . must be the things nightmares are made of." Phryne said, shifting her gaze back to where Ana had disappeared.

Jack nodded, before turning back to his paperwork, which started playful banter from Phryne.

(..)

"Come on, you lot. Time for bed." Ana spoke gently, tucking in the younger children in their makeshift bed. Unless you call a sheet on the cold floor with a pillow and blanket to somehow bring comfort and warmth a bed. One of the younger children, Freddy, ran to her with a tattered book.

"Read this to us, tonight? We voted on this one." Freddy said, his sandy blonde head stuck to his head in dirty strands and his big brown eyes sparkled from his gaunt face.

"Alright, Freddy. I'll read this one." Ana agreed and smiled as Freddy bounded to his bed and lay down, watching as he got comfortable with his pillow, showing no discomfort whatsoever. Freddy had never felt the feeling of a soft and comfortable mattress underneath his body and thick covers to cover himself even more and provided more warmth, a fluffy pillow that was cleaned periodically and wasn't ridden with lice.

He never complained, but since he was 7, he didn't know what the outer world offered and stole. How giving it could be, and how it could rip away what it gave in less than a heartbeat.

Ana opened the book and started to read about Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. When she finished, the children were asleep soundly and she smiled at each one, before putting the book back in the pile and she went to the elder boys and girls who had come back from their day and they set the food they had stolen. Every portion was shared among the group and was overseen by Ana.

She quickly surveyed the group and frowned in concern. "Where's Sam?" She asked, and her gaze switched to each forlorn face.

"We couldn't find him. We searched every inch of the city. We couldn't find him anywhere. You know how he is. He'll probably come back in the middle of the night as per usual." Helena piped up, looking at Ana with a hopeful smile, which Ana returned.

"Yeah, right. He's probably dead. Lifeless in some ditch somewhere." One of the other girls, Sandra spoke up rudely. She had often butted heads with Ana, both were 17 but Ana was older by a few months. Sandra always told Ana that she wasn't doing anything for them and that they should all leave, or at the very least, get rid of the younger children, as they held the older ones back. Only a handful of people agreed with her view.

Ana told her to pack her things and leave if she thought that she should leave the younger kids.

Of course, Sandra and the handful of of her followers came grovelling back after a week of fending for themselves.

Ana allowed them back into the group, but Sandra still shared her view, whether it was needed or not and constantly grated on Ana's nerves, but she never let it show.

"Shut up, Sandra! He'll come back!" A boy piped up, Thomas. He was Sam's good friend and several boys murmured their agreements, throwing an insult or two to Sandra, who seemed to shrink inside herself.

"Alright, that's enough. We're all tired, frustrated and I think we could all use with some rest. So, let's pack all this up and head off to bed. We have enough to keep us fed for at least a week. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. So let's go to bed." Ana placated and all of the others seemed to relax at her words. Only Sandra seemed intent on defying Ana, but then she too felt the overwhelming need to sleep and found herself in her uncomfortable 'bed'.

She felt someone pulling up the covers over her shoulders and her eyes opened a fraction to see Ana, pushing the covers to her neck to keep her warm. "Goodnight, Sandra." Ana whispered before moving to the next kid and did the same thing before heading to her own bed. Sandra curled up, wondering if Ana did that every night. She fell asleep wondering if Ana really did only care for their well-being, she wasn't the only one noticing that Ana was getting skinnier, giving up her portions of food to the elder and younger kids who didn't get as much as the others.

(..)

"Collins. What do we have?" Jack asked as he walked over to his crime scene.

"A young boy. By the looks of him, he lived on the streets. A young couple found him on their morning walk and called it in. He had a little notepad on his person and a scrap of material with some string attached. Here you are." Collins handed over the evidence and Jack looked very impressed as he took the evidence.

"Well done, Collins." Jack praised and looked at the brimming notepad. He opened it and took a loose folded piece of paper and as he opened it, he looked at the very detailed drawing of young and older children in a group. He could make out every face with great detail. No face was recognizable to him, apart from the deceased. But whoever had drawn the portrait, had a gift and they were incredibly talented. He opened a few more pieces of identical looking paper and he came across one of the drawings that made his heart stop. It was a sketch of a young girl in front of a broken mirror drawn in perfect detail. Like it was a photograph.

It was Ana.

She was smiling up at him, her eyes warm and her face more filled out, more youthful. She was young and she didn't look as if the years on the street had taken their toll on her, she didn't have tension at the corner of her eyes and the curve of her lips as she smiled.

She was carefree.

She had known this boy and she was the only lead to finding the killer, if she wasn't the killer.

He had to consult Phryne on this, maybe she could help, or Jane could identify Ana and maybe help on her whereabouts.

He hoped sincerely that young Ana was not the killer and that she was just an innocent bystander in all this.

He really did.

Hi everyone!

RIKOREN here,

this is my first Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries fic, so please be good to me. I hope you enjoy this story. I quite like it and I have quite a few ideas for the new chapter. So stay tuned.

Thank you,

RIKOREN xD

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