A puzzling case is brought before the police.
Warning for depictions of violence. Part of the first information report here's directly quoted from the actual Jack the Ripper case files. This story's also on AO3, so you can read it there if you prefer that format.
Boredom is a dangerous emotion. When we have nothing to do, the mind comes up with all sorts of ideas. Sometimes they lead towards the improvement of the world, like da Vinci's doodles of machines. Sometimes they practically plunge us into Hell, like the terrible, hateful thoughts conceived of in idle time. Sometimes, a little bit of both is involved.
Alfred F. Jones would find this out soon enough, and realize how boredom could lead him to the pinnacle of his career at Scotland Yard. But was that glory worth all the pain attached to it?
The young officer sat arranging records at the station. It was autumn here in England, but the chill was coming early. The leaves outside were turning from vibrant green to bright red to dull brown very quickly in the September sun, and created a lovely sight for Alfred to observe while he worked.
He had joined the police force of London believing it would give him the chance to save civilians from all sorts of goons. Alfred looked back on his childhood, when he had tied red blankets around his neck, screaming "I'm the hero!" for everyone to hear. They only tell you about the fun bits of being part of the police. You make sure bad guys don't hurt anyone, you have awesome adventures, you solve cases. All this stupid paperwork isn't shown in those kids' books.
Alfred looked back to the Mary Ann Britland murders of 1886, which he had played an important role in solving during his student days. When would another interesting case like that come along? Apart from the occasional robbery, gang war, or bar fight here and there, nothing noteworthy had occurred.
He looked over to the opposite side of the room, where his boss Ludwig Beilschmidt was going over some papers. They seemed uncrumpled and neatly typed, and Alfred guessed it was a new report that had come in. Forgetting to act professionally, he sauntered over to Ludwig's desk and chirped, "Hey, Ludwig, whatcha doin'?"
Ludwig sighed at the American's mannerisms, but appeared to be too troubled by something to reprimand him and tell him to be more formal. Instead, he replied, "Another case came in, regarding the murder of a woman in the East End."
Alfred's excitement deflated. "Oh, just that?" The East End was the district of the poor, immigrants, and all sorts of disreputable establishments. Crimes like this were common, with barmaids being stabbed by drunken patrons or prostitutes by dissatisfied johns.
"Be serious, Alfred. We have much to discuss," Ludwig said, worry in his tone. Alfred pulled up a chair. This was going to be a long story.
"At 3:40 am yesterday, Charles Cross, a carter, was going to work when he found a strange bundle by the 1876 Board School on Bucks Road, and decided to have a look at it. When he got closer, he realized it was, in fact, the body of a woman. Another carter was approaching, and Cross decided to ask him for help. After examining her a little closer, the two men decided that she was probably dead."
"Woah, this sounds like a ghost story," the American commented, listening as if to a storyteller at a party
"Sadly, it is all too real," Ludwig paused to clear his throat. "After the two men had left, Constable Honda-yes, you know Kiku-walked onto Bucks Road and saw the body. Curious, he went over to the other side of the street with his lamp and saw that a very atrocious crime had been committed. Her throat was slashed-"
"That's nothing interesting," Alfred interrupted, yawning. "Seems like any other drunken murder to me."
"How many times must I remind you to listen, Jones? Let me finish! Her throat had been slashed so many times, so brutally, that her head had nearly been severed, and blood was oozing from the wound!"
Alfred was taken aback. What kind of sick person went around doing this stuff to women?
"Meanwhile, the two carters had come here and alerted Constable Vargas, who was coming in the same direction."
Alfred laughed to himself, picturing Feliciano screaming like a schoolboy at the body and Kiku bustling around nonplussed. The two constables were a study in contrast, but managed to work effectively under duress.
"Vargas called for Doctor Hedervary, who arrived at 4:00 am and did a quick examination. Here is her first information report, look over it."
Alfred reached out and took the paper from his boss. Elizabeta was one of the few female doctors in London, and as far as Alfred knew, the only one who dabbled in medico-legal. Despite (or perhaps because of) her sex, she had as much guts as, maybe even more than, her male colleagues, when examining blood. Ludwig, a seasoned officer familiar with gore, and Kiku, who was always collected, still flinched a little at the sight of particularly disturbing injuries, but she always went about the business calmly, taking notes and positioning the corpse however necessary without turning her eyes away for a second. Alfred took note of the following extract of her report:
The victim's throat received multiple wounds. The slashes were very deep, nearly resulting in decapitation. As observed by PC Vargas, the victim's back was soaked with blood that had oozed out and dribbled down from the neck wound. He also found a mass of coagulated blood about six (6) inches in diameter underneath the body of the deceased. On closer inspection, a deep gash running all along her abdomen was discovered, indicating disembowelment. Further examination of this was prevented by the premature cleaning of the corpse and disposal of the garments.t:
The condition of the body appeared to prove conclusively that the deceased was killed on the exact spot in which she was found./span/em/p
There was not a trace of blood anywhere, except at the spot where her neck was lying, this circumstance being sufficient to justify the assumption that the injuries to the throat were committed when the woman was on the ground, whilst the state of her clothing and the absence of any blood about her legs suggested that the abdominal injuries were inflicted whilst she was still in the same position.
It was also observed that the deceased's body and legs were still warm, although her hands and wrists were quite cold. It is possible that she had not been dead for more than half an hour as of 4:00 am of August 31, 1888.
"Have they caught the guy who did this?" Alfred asked indignantly. "Nobody deserves to have this sort of sick stuff done to them! Especially a woman..."
"Doctor Hedervary's observations indicate that the victim may have only been dead for thirty minutes. If she is to be believed and if these notes are indeed accurate, the murderer may still have been on the scene when Cross found the body. However, the residents of Buck's Row, including the nightwatchman Mulshaw, say they saw, heard, and noticed absolutely nothing. There were three slaughter-men who were working through the night, but after a series of interrogations, they have been eliminated as suspects."
"Oh! Let me work on this case!" Alfred piped up enthusiastically. "After all, I was the one who threw you guys on Britland's trail two years ago!" The young American beamed with pride.
Ludwig appeared to be beset with making a decision, no doubt wondering whether or not to give the wet-feathered upstart this opportunity.
Alfred, realizing the matter was closed, returned to his desk.
At the end of the day, Ludwig pulled Alfred aside.
"Under ordinary circumstances, I would not give this to a junior officer," he announced gruffly. "But, as you have been given to understand, these are no ordinary circumstances. You possess a good record, and you were instrumental in a major case in the past, as you are fond of pointing out. I am assigning you the case, Jones."
"Viel glück," Ludwig wished his junior well in his mother tongue.
"Danke," Alfred replied gratefully.
With the prospect of dinner, and of an interesting new case to dispel the humdrum that had recently crept into his life, Alfred headed off to the taverns.
Author's Notes:
-I'm somewhat new to the Hetalia fandom, so constructive criticism on this fic is appreciated.
-I cut out a couple details of the real-life case that I felt were unnecessary. I did my best not to gloss over anything important, though.
-There will be more gore in the later chapters, so please be careful, friends!
