Friday 31st, August 1888

3:50

Shadows dripped like candle wax from the eaves of the house, running down the wall and into the cobblestone street. A lantern flickered above the doorway, illuminating the gruesome scene below.

A women, probably in her late twenty's, lay spread out over the doorstep, her face ghostly white. Her throat was jaggedly cut open, the blood still spilling out, contrasting beautifully with her skin. Her abdomen had been carved open and her guts were on display as if someone had been looking for something inside of her. Many other incisions were made on her soft belly, each cut gleamed crimson in the moonlight. Her gold-spun hair was positioned carefully around her face, peaceful in death.

She had been found this way by some street urchin that ran to the nearest police station shouting, "Murder!"

So now, Detective Inspector Jones stooped over the body, clutching his overcoat close to ward off the cold. His breath ghosted between full lips in the early morning chill and his head was covered with a bowler hat. Piercing blue eyes stared intently at the corpse.

"What was her name?" He directed this question to Officer Williams who was behind him.

"Nichols, Sir. Mary Ann Nichols." Williams replied, his thick Welsh accent skipping over vowels.

Jones nodded thoughtfully, "And she worked in Buck's Row, did she?"

"As a prostitute, yes Sir."

Jones sighed and glanced around the crime scene, "And you're sure nobody disturbed the scene?"

"As sure as I can be."

A steady dripping sound could be heard from somewhere in the alley. Moonlight slowly faded to sunlight and the streets of the East End of London began to wake.

"Alright, load her up." Jones ordered the surrounding officers who jumped to obey him. He stood and faced Williams. "We'll have Harper take a look at her. Should be an interesting first case for him."

Williams frowned, "I'd heard you two didn't get along that well."

"Yeah, but he's the best damned doctor we got."

Jones stayed for a few more minutes, glancing around at the scene of the murder, trying to take in as much as he could for he knew the press would be there soon and ruin the integrity of the crime scene.

When he was satisfied with what he had memorized, he joined Williams in the carriage and headed to the police station.

...

Dr. Owen Harper hated his job.

The pay was shit, the work was hard, and he currently was elbows deep in the fetid bowels of an elderly man trying to find a scalpel he had dropped because his hands had been slippery with blood.

He had just removed the better half of a blackened liver he needed when the Head of H Department strolled into the dead room as if it was his own.

"Harper, I have a case for you."

Owen sighed at the clear lack of respect. "It's Dr. Harper to you, Jones. And I'm a bit busy."

Jones wrinkled his nose at the smell of several different types of bodily fluids. "Whatever you're doing, this is vastly more important."

Owen put down the intestines he had in his hands and gave up on ever recovering the scalpel. "All right. It better be good."

Jones rolled his eyes, damn he was good at that, and strode from the room, expecting Owen to follow. Which he did, but not until he washed his hands throughly.

The doctor finally caught up to the detective in the cold, filthy morgue where Jones was staring thoughtfully at the dead women on the slab who had been mutilated thoroughly. Owen whistled at the sight, "Damn."

"Her name is Mary Ann Nichols. She was found on Buck's Row in this state, still bleeding out."

Owen approached the slab, "Whoever did this had some professional training, look at the cut on her throat. Severed the carotid clean through. Brutal. Horrible, that is."

Jones hovered behind him, watching his every move. Owen usually made some remark at how masterful the killing was, but even he seemed to be taken aback at the brutality.

"Anything else?' Jones asked, taking a step back as Owen took a scalpel out of a nearby drawer.

"I let you know when I finish the autopsy." Owen replied as he positioned the knife over the woman's breast bone, motioning with his free hand for Ianto to leave.

Ianto did. Gladly.