A/N: This is a story I've been planning for a while. Hope you like it, there will be romance constables and plenty of action.

Disclaimer:

I don't own Murdoch mysteries, only my OCs.

Crabtree POV:

Detective Murdoch, Higgins and I were on patrol duty that night, we were patrolling the rough side of Toronto, the place with too many alleyways to count and a dodgy pub at every turn. We just rounded a corner when we spotted two young women walking down the alleyway alone. We glanced at each other, unnerved. It wasn't safe for two women to be wandering around at this time of night anywhere, let alone here. "Should we see if they need an escort home?" I asked

"That would be the proper thing to do, George." Murdoch replied. I blushed slightly; I have a tendency to state the obvious. There were many reasons I admired and respected Murdoch, he didn't scoff as most would when I said something stupid and the fact he called me by my first name rather than my last in was an example of how he respected everybody. He was an extremely clever man too and many of the ladies were amoured by him. I wished I could be like him. I try my hardest to be like him, he was a pure gentleman, a fantastic leader, a cracking detective, a clever scientist; basically everything I wanted to be. However, I didn't envy him. I simply admired him.

We sped up our pace slightly; not wanting to startle the women, for our dark attire combined with the poorly lit streets would make us unidentifiable as officers of the law from that distance and may have induced the wrong impression.

As we got within several hundred yards ahead of the women approached a fork in the path, they stopped and embraced and split. As we got closer I saw a redheaded woman depart from the right side of the fork with a wave and to bell-like laughs echoing off the walls. She was headed towards the safe area now she would reach a secure street within five minutes, she would not need an escort.

Her partner, I assumed was dark haired because I could not make out a colour and we were within eyeshot to see lighter tones of hair and clothing. She continued down the right side, unlike her friend she seemed to be taking a longer route to her home, judging by the coat she was wearing, she did not belong in the shadier area she was heading towards. But her simple ensemble suggested that she was within working class, probably heading towards a neighbourhood similar to the one I grew up near to as a foundling.

We decided approach her and request an escort, judging where she was walking through. As we turned around the corner we saw a tall, bulky figure, whom was slightly hunched over, in a black trench coat. The person slipped out of the shadows and began to follow the lady. Apparently he was as unaware of us as she was of him.

We hung back, although we had our suspicions about this person's motive we had no proof his intentions were malicious at that point. For all we knew his intentions could've been as innocent as ours were.

Me and Higgins reached towards our batons and looked at Murdoch, he shook his head. He wanted to evaluate the situation before charging in. We trusted his judgement and relaxed our stance slightly, but prepared to spring into action if required to. He sauntered up to her and gripped her wrist. "Do you mind letting go, I think you must have mistaken me for someone else." Piped up a quiet, patient voice. A laugh with a similar pitch to that of a cello rang eerily off the brick walls.

The lady seemed to be getting annoyed now "Now, I don't care if you're Bram Stoker or own the most creep-tacular pub in Toronto, I'm giving you three seconds to LET ME GO!"

He chuckled in response.

Her distress was made clear; we drew our batons waiting for Murdoch's signal.

"One... Two... THREE!" by three the man was trying to drag her down the alley. Murdoch nodded and we charged. Before we could yell at him the young woman stomped on his foot and using his momentary distraction to swing round and punch him with all her might square in the face! He staggered back upon impact, but didn't release his grip. We were too stunned to yell due to the woman's strong defence. He made a grab for her other wrist, she countered with a solid knee to the groin. Despite ourselves we all winced, we knew from experience that the agony was crippling. Apparently he agreed as he crumpled to the floor. Unfortunately for her, her attacker was perseverant; he grabbed the hem of her skirt so she finished him off with a ruthless kick in the gut. He keeled into a foetal position.

Murdoch suddenly found his voice "Place that man under arrest for attempted assault."

The man looked up. And, before she could dodge he pulled the woman to the ground, scrambled up and bolted down the alley.

"Henry, follow him, George and I will attend to the lady."

Higgins nodded and sprinted after him.

The woman picked herself up off the floor and dusted herself off.

"Are you all right, Miss?" I asked.

"Slightly bruised but no harm done. Thanks for your concern though." She muttered shortly and softly.

It was at this point that I got my first clear look at the girl. Her hair was the darkest shade of chestnut, long, unruly locks of which framed her sweet face; she had a cute button nose, plump, pink lips that were slightly parted as she breathed heavily. Her eyes were dual colour, predominantly blue, but rimmed with hazel, I had a feeling that these eyes could flash any colour in the right light and mood. Her beauty didn't stop there, she had a glowing natural tan, and it made her skin look virtually flawless save for a small, completely natural beauty spot on the right of her face beneath her lips. My eyes travelled downwards; her curvature was statuesque, complemented by a rather ample breast and a skirt like one I had never seen. It trailed outwards at her hips although the skirt was more slender than most women's it still left her legs to the imagination but all the while hinting to long, shapely legs concealed beneath.

She obviously saw me looking and pink flecked across her cheek bones. I averted my gaze partly because it was making her uncomfortable, partly because I felt like a fool and could feel my own cheeks burning.

Thankfully Murdoch decided to speak "What is your name Miss..."

"...Kirby, Victoria Kirby." She replied, until that moment I never realised how much her voice resembled an orchestra's symphony; elegant and spine-tinglingly beautiful.

She looked as if she were about to say more, when a scream sliced through the alley.

"Sadie!" She gasped in panic. With that she gathered her skirts and darted off towards the direction of the scream.

"Madam, I must insist you wait here. It may not be safe." I yelled after her, she stopped and peeped round the corner. Her eyes were stormy blue and shone with steely determination.

"I'm not going to let my best friend be hurt, or worse." With that she disappeared and her footfalls rang down the street.

Murdoch and I promptly followed.