Heyya, yeah, that's right, ThatFlyingRabbit here. ^^V
This story is basically Kuroshitsuji's/ Black butler's version of Sherlock Holmes.
Ciel is Sherlock, and Sebastian is Watson.
Although this would seem to be the wrong way round, I decided that since Ciel is the master, he should be the detective.
However, that being said, Sebastian will be more 'hands on' than most Watson's so don't worry, he isn't going to be a stuck up, lazy ass.
I apologise if some of the characters are OOC, but in the world of Sherlock Holmes, it's hard to merge characters together.
I apologise n advance for any mistakes I make, because I'm bound to make more than one.
So now, without further ado, ON TO THE STORY.
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In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army.
Having completed my studies there, I was duly attached to the fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon.
The regiment was stationed in India at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had broken out.
On landing at Bombay, I learned that my corps had advanced through the passes, and was already deep in the enemy's country.
I followed, however, with many other officers that were in the same situation as myself, and succeeded in reaching Kandahar in safety, where I found my regiment, and at once entered upon my new duty's.
The campaign brought honours and promotion to many, but for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster.
I was removed from my brigade and attached to the Berkshires, with whom I served at the fatal battle of Maiwand.
There I was struck on the shoulder by a jezail bullet, which shattered the bone and grazed the subclavian artery.
I should have fallen into the hands of the murderous Ghazis had it not been for the devotion and courage shown by Canterbury, my orderly, who through me across a pack-horse, and succeeded in bringing me safely to the British lines.
Worn with pain, and weak from the prolonged hardships which I had undergone, I was removed, with a great train of wounded sufferers, to the base hospital at Peshawar.
Here I rallied, and had already improved so far as to be able to walk about the ward, even to bask a little upon the veranda, when I was struck down by enteric fever, that curse of our Indian possessions.
For months my life was despaired of, and when at last I came to myself and became convalescent, I was so weak and emaciated medical board determined that not a day should me lost in sending me back to England.
I was dispatched, accordingly, in the troopship 'Orontes', and landed a month later on Portsmouth jetty, with my heath irretrievably ruined, but with permission from a paternal government to spent the next nine months in attempting to improve it.
I had neither kin nor kith in England, and was therefore free as air, or as free as an income of eleven shillings and sixpence a day will permit a man to be.
Under such circumstances, I naturally gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the empire are irresistibly drained.
There I stayed for some time at a private hotel in the strand, leading a comfortless, meaningless existence, and spending such money as I had, considerably more freely than I ought..
So alarming did the state of my finances become, that I soon realized that I must either leave to metropolis and rusticate somewhere in the country, or that I must make a complete alteration in my style of living.
Choosing the latter alternative, I began by making up my mind to leave the hotel, and to take up my quarters in some less pretentious and less expensive domicile.
On the very day I had come to this conclusion, I was standing at the Criterion Bar, when someone taped me on the shoulder, and turning round I recognized young Ronald Knox, who had been a dresser under me at Barts.
The sight of a friendly face in the great wilderness of London is a pleasant thing indeed to a lonely man.
In old days Ronald had never been a particular crony of mine, but now I hailed him with enthusiasm, and he, in his turn, appeared to be delighted to see me.
In the exuberance of my joy, I asked him to lunch with me at the Holborn, and we started off together in a hansom.
"Whatever have you been doing with yourself Michealis?" he undisguised wonder, as we rattled through the crowed London streets.
"You're as thin as a lath and as pale as bone china." I gave him a short sketch of my adventures, and hardly concluded it by the time we reached our destination.
"Poor devil!" he said, commiserating, after he had listened to my misfortunes.
"What are you up to now?"
"Looking for lodgings." I answered. "Trying to solve the problem as to whether it is possible to get comfortable rooms at a reasonable price."
"That's a strange thing," remarked my companion; "you are the second man today that has used that expression."
"And who was the first?" My curiosity was piqued.
"A fellow who is working at the chemical laboratory up at the hospital. He was bemoaning himself this morning because he could not get someone to go halves with him in some nice rooms which he had found, and which were too much for his purse."
"Ah," I replied "if he really wants someone to share the rooms and the expense, I am the very man for him. I should prefer having a partner to being alone."
Ronald looked rather strangely at me over his wine glass.
"You don't know Ciel Phantomhive yet," His face was almost comical in its sincerity, I had trouble hiding the laughter that was threatening to burst out at any given moment.
"perhaps you would not care for him as a constant companion."
"Why, what is there against him?"
"Oh, I didn't say there was anything against him. He's quite sultry most of the time, an enthusiast in some branches of science, but queer in some of his ideas."
"A medical student I suppose?" Personally, I saw nothing wrong with this Ciel Phantomhive, from what Ronald had said so far.
"Nope, I have no idea what he intends to go in for. I believe he is well up in anatomy, and he is a first-class chemist, but, as far as I know, he has never taken out any systematic medical classes. His studies are very desultory and eccentric, but he has amassed a lot of out-of-the way knowledge which would astonish his professors."
"Did you never ask him what he was going in for?" I asked.
"No, he's not a man that is easy to draw out, but he can be commutative enough when the fancy seizes him." In my honest opinion, he seemed far to stuck up for his own good, pompous beyond belief, and he truly fascinated me.
"I should like to meet him." Was my honest reply, "If I am to lodge with anyone, I would prefer a man of studious and quiet habits. I am not yet strong enough to stand much noise and excitement. I had enough of both in Afghanistan to last me for the remainder of my natural existence. How could I meet this friend of yours?"
"He is sure to be at the laboratory." Returned my companion, " He either avoids the place for weeks, or else works there from morning till night. If you like, we can drive round together after luncheon."
"Certainly." Was my only reply, then the conversation drifted away into other channels.
As we made our way to the hospital after, Ronald gave me a few more particulars about the gentleman whom I proposed to take as a fellow lodger.
"You mustn't blame me if you don't get on with him, I know nothing more of him than I have learned from meeting him occasionally in the laboratory. You proposed this arrangement, so don't hold me responsible if you end up hating the guy"
"If we don't get on it will be easy to Part Company, "I answered "It seems to me Ronald," I added, looking hard at my companion, "That you have some reason for washing your hands of the matter. Is this man temperament that bad? Don't be mealy-mouthed about it."
"It's not easy to express the inexpressible," Laughter bubbled from his mouth, again, one of his more comical attributes. "Phantomhive is a little to detached for my tastes, he's almost cold-blooded. I could imagine his giving a friend a little slip of poison, not out of malevolence; you understand, but merely to test the theory. He appears to have a passion for definite answers and exact knowledge."
"Yes, and quite right too."
"Yeah, but it may be pushed to excess. When it comes to beating the subjects in the dissecting rooms with a stick, it's certainly taking a rather bizarre shape."
"Beating the subjects?" This man was becoming more and more interesting with each passing moment. I felt the need to open up his brain, see how he ticks.
It was a burning need to get inside this 'Ciels' mind and see what bizarre thoughts are forming there.
"Yes, to verify how far bruises may be produced after death, I saw him at it the other day!" Ronald looked like he had just spread the best gossip in London. How quaint.
"And yet you say he is not a medical student?"
"No. Heavens knows what the studies of his subjects are. But here we are, and you must form your own impressions of him." Sure enough, we had reached the laboratory.
As he spoke, we passed through a small side-door, which opened into a wing of the great hospital. It was familiar ground to me.
I needed and I needed no guiding as we ascended the bleak stone staircase and made our way along the corridor with its vista of whitewashed walls and dun-coloured doors.
Near the further end a low arched passage branched away from it and led to the chemical laboratory.
This was a lofty chamber, lined and littered with countless bottles. Broad, low tables were scattered about, which bristled with retorts, test tubes, and Bunsen lamps with blue, flickering flames.
There was only one student in the room, who was bending over a distant table absorbed in his work. His frame was slight and small, his hair dark in the candle-light.
Truth be told, he looked no older than 13, which couldn't be right at all. His lips were moving, yet no sound was escaping, his silent mutterings going almost unnoticed by even himself.
The sound of our footsteps must have startled him from his quiet stupor, for his head snapped up with cat-like reflexes.
And what a sight he was.
I didn't know it yet, but he, Ciel Phantomhive, was soon to be my new obsession.
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Well, that's the first chapter over with.
So guys, what did you think? Tell me if you have any ideas on what to do next.
Also, as any fellow writers will agree, reviews make the world go round, so PLEASE just give a quick opinion.
Thank you, and goodbye. ^_^