Author's Notes:

I did promise to write another one! This story takes place after 'The Gilded Cage', but you don't necessarily have to read it first. Though since I'm the author I highly recommend it! :)

Special thanks to fanfiction member Dragones whose comment partially inspired this story. You're awesome!

Not positive how long this will be... I always love reviews!

Enjoy :D

The King and the Pawn

~An Oswald and Smith Mystery~

Part 1: The Note

New York City was sweltering. The biggest heat wave in years was currently causing blackouts, soft asphalt, and Detective Clara Oswald's misery. She was starting to wonder if death by asphyxiation was worth crawling inside the ice box. It was tempting.

The portable fan on her desk whirled away in vain doing little more than ruffle her papers. Clara sat at the typewriter working up another bill. God, she hated paperwork.

Ever since the Gallifrey Club case business had been booming. Everyone wanted the PI who took down the Master, even if she was a woman. Months passed and Clara's phone had yet to stop ringing. It was great for getting her rent paid on time, for once. Unfortunately it also meant paperwork, lots of paperwork.

Clara finished her invoice with a sigh. She pushed back her now limp curls and decided to call it quits. It was late and she had dinner plans. That is if John could get off in time.

The hack which took her to the Upper East Side smelled of old cigarettes and stale beer. It was the official scent of the city, the particular side of the city Clara saw every day. It was lust, lies, and lost dreams. The murders, the missing husbands, the mobsters, and the drug lords. They were all part of the seedy underbelly of the Big Apple.

Her cherry-red heels clicked on the pavement as Clara handed the cabbie his green. He seemed more interested in the way her thin blouse clung to her breasts than the money. Men were all same, with one exception. As the cab drove off she glanced up to see an orange light glowing in her apartment window. He was there.

Officer John Smith of the NYPD worked in undercover operations. They met on the Gallifrey Club case when Clara was hired to tail his cover identify 'the Doctor'. Handsome, charismatic, charming, and all around ridiculous, he managed to win her over. No mean feat since Clara had come to except that love was for saps and dimestore novels.

John greeted Clara with a lopsided grin. He was wearing nothing but an undershirt and trousers in the oppressive heat.

"I told you I would make it." he said.

"Does this mean you made an arrest?"

John smirked, "Don't I always?"

Clara rolled her eyes, entwining her arms around his neck. He was full of it. His hands slid to her waist pulling her closer. Their lips met. Clara sighed leaning into him.

And then the phone rang.

"If that's your Captain again I'm going to tell him to dust out." she said slipping out of John's embrace.

This is what always happened. Some stiff showed up in a back alley then there went their dinner plans. Clara lifted the phone off the cradle wonder which one of them was being called out this time.

"Detective Oswald speaking."

A shaky, male voice spoke from the other end of the line. It was a voice she recognized.

"Clara, it's- it's David. Is John there?"

David was John's older brother. He and his wife Rose lived on the other side of the city. She could tell something was wrong, big time. "Yes he's here. David what is it?"

There was a pause, "Can you both just come over here?"

Clara glanced at John who was watching her with a concerned expression. "We'll be right there."

David met them at the door to his apartment. His was tall and thin, like his brother, and had brown hair which appeared to defy gravity. Normally the man was the cat's meow, but not that evening. Torn shirt, loose tie, and a fresh shiner, David was a sight for sore eyes.

"What happened?" John demanded.

His brother met his gaze with a hollow expression. He looked numb and overwhelmed.

"They took her. They took Rose." David said finally.

Knowing emotions would do her no good, Clara's gumshoe instincts kicked in, "Ok, start from the beginning."

David let them inside. The joint was a mess. Lamps knocked down, tables overturned, a forgotten album spun on playing endless static. Clear signs of a fight were everywhere. Glass crunched underneath her heel causing Clara to look down. Rose smiled up at her from the shattered frame of a photograph. She wasn't your dime-a-dozen dame. She was blonde and beautiful in a homespun kind of way. The sort of gal any boy would want to bring home to meet the folks. And now it seemed Clara's world had come crashing into hers.

David sunk down in the only upright chair, head in hands. "Rose was making dinner and the doorbell rang. I went to answer it. There were three of them. They forced their way inside. I tried to fight but one of them goons hit me in the back of the head with his bean-shooter. He dry-gulched me and when I came to Rose was gone."

John placed a supportive hand on his brother's shoulder. Clara went over the room taking in every detail. The scene corroborated his story, but she could tell that wasn't all of it. She turned back to David.

"What haven't you told us?"

He didn't answer. Slipping his hand in his shirt pocket David pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to John. Frowning John read it over then gave it to Clara.

It was a message in sprawling, black ink.

'If you go to the police your wife dies. Leave $5,000 in an unmarked bag at the Angel of the Waters fountain midnight tomorrow or your wife dies.'