Summary – Inspector Abberline's last case…

A/N – I have never written a from Hell fic before, and here I am doing a bloody cross over. However, I think it's a bloody good one. It's a cross over with pirates. And even that is AU though I think I shall keep From Hell the same. Since this happens after the movie.


Treacherous Waters

Chapter 1 – Port

"If everything seems to be going well...you've overlooked somethng" annonimous


It was as foggy inside the opium den as it was outside on the early morning of mid October. Sergeant Godly put out his cigarette as he walked inside. The man who rant he opium den and who most called "Emperor" came over and handed Godly several pounds. It was not unheard of the opium den owners to pay off the constables so that they could run their establishment. Godly pocketed the money before inquiring upon the location of his friend Inspector Frederick Abberline.

Most of the men knew that the Inspector was an addict; there were also rumors of the man's visions, that he had seen the Ripper kill before the murder even happened. Godly couldn't help but slightly admire the man. He didn't get where he was without his visions and his guts. Godly walked through the smoky haze of the opium den to find Abberline succumbed to sleep.

He raised his fist, and popped the inspector across the face hard.

"Good morning, Inspector," he said cheerfully, it was a manner that he had adopted for just such occasions for he knew it annoyed the inspector much.

"Godly, must you do that every time?" Abberline asked crossly as he sat up with the help of his friend.

"I must," Godly admitted. That was enough for Abberline as he found his coat and checked his pockets to make sure nothing was missing. Of course, the "Emperor" would never let anyone mess with Abberline, as he was the main customer of this particular opium den.

"We have a case," Godly informed Abberline as they made their way out of the den and into the early foggy air of London. Abberline and Godly climbed into a carriage and soon they were off to the Police Station on Fleming Street.


The body was covered in maggots and mostly rotten from the sea water it had been dumped into. Godly and Abberline stood over the bloated form of the former Naval Captain. Abberline was only slightly confused by the situation.

"Are you informing me, Godly, that we have been called in to solve a murder of an Officer of the Fleet?" he asked.

"Indeed, sir," Godly replied, he covered his nose with a handkerchief.

"Odd, don't you think?" Abberline asked.

"Possibly, but we have clearance to do whatever we have to in order to solve the mystery,"

"Some mystery, what sort of Captain was he, you think?" Abberline inspected a wound that looked suspiciously like a bullet wound. Godly was silent for a few moments.

"I'm not sure,"

"Neither am I," Abberline muttered, with his pencil he tried to get a look into some of the pockets. All were empty, which meant that either this murder was a robbery, or there had been something important that the Captain had….and he was murdered for it.

"Let us pay a visit to the docks, sir," Abberline said.


It hadn't been easy to get aboard the ship that had reported their Captain missing. However, in the end Abberline and Godly were admitted by the First Left-tenant. They held their meeting in the officer's quarters. Abberline and Godly were treated to a top of rum as well.

"Tell me, Mr. Norington, why do you sail under a Captain if you are indeed a Commodore?" Abberline asked.

"I was called to London for my next assignment, sir," Norington replied stiffly.

"And did you happen to see the Captain leaving at all?" Abberline inspected the Commodore for any sort of feeling. But a man of the sea and with the caliber the Commodore had, he didn't easily give up any emotions whatsoever.

"I did, he was going to meet his wife,"

"Wife? Interesting,"

"I hope you know that this is important, Captain Graves is a hero in the Navy," Norington said.

"Oh, I know, Commodore, I know all about Captain Graves," Abberline sat back in his chair, the cup of rum forgotten.

"It seems to me sir, that with the status of Captain Graves, that possibly, he had something that someone else wanted,"

"Such as?" the Commodore asked.

"That I am not sure of since I have come into the situation half through. However, I assure you sir, that if his murder wasn't that of a spree of the moment robbery, that the situation is worse than we have been led to believe," Abberline informed the man.

"He wasn't carrying anything,"

"Ah, so you do know something?" Abberline propped an eyebrow at the man. The other officers in the room sat stiffly, Godly was inspecting the Commodore, but as Abberline had all ready concluded, the Commodore was as strong as brick.

"He didn't have anything, because I have it," Commodore Norington said.

"Ah," Abberline shook his head. His internal curiosity coming to the fore front, but he didn't want to ask what it was out right, it would slow him down but he wanted Norington to give him the information instead of being ordered too.

"So, the good Captain Graves was killed over something he didn't have, and how long was it till you reported the man missing?" Godly asked.

"Two days, Captain Graves took two days leave," a random Officer informed them.

"That has to be enough time to do what need to be done then…and the wife, where does she live?" Godly asked.

"The Widow Graves lives on Baker's Street," Norington gave them a look.

"Thank you, please, don't move this ship till our investigation is through," Abberline informed the man before he and Godly made their way out of the Officer's Berth.

"That was bold of you, Inspector," Godly commented as they emerged on deck.

"I have to be," Abberline replied.

"So, now we visit the widow?"

"Indeed, Mr. Godly, I believe so,"


Captain Jack Sparrow had paid a visit to London once in a while. He didn't much like London, not since his run in with Todd down on Fleet Street. But he had heard that the murderous barber had been hanged when his crimes had been found out. Even his accomplice, the beautiful Mrs. Lovett had died (from poison, or so the story went). However, Jack Sparrow wasn't going near Fleet Street, it was full of the most unsavory characters the Pirate Captain ever had the pleasure of meeting. He much preferred Tortuga over that of Fleet Street.

His ship docked along the quay; besides the British Royal Navy, only the East India Trading Ships could get first choice docking. Jack was glad to have this mission over with, he had a time of it out running pirates he had made brief acquaintances of during his youth and keeping the cargo safe. He didn't want to be a pirate and that meant that the cargo he had he would fight over. He had heard of other EITC Captain's being punished by the branding of "Pirate" for little more than taking bribes. Losing a cargo would ensure the future his family wanted for him.

Jack sighed; he didn't want to think of the family reunion he was missing. Not that he minded, he tended to get loads of bruises when family was about. But he honestly didn't want to show up with an EITC ship and then have loyal men of the EITC snitch on him for visiting family. It was better just to stay away. Till the men were loyal to him, not that that was going to happen any time soon since half of them were Shang-highed. But, he was glad that he took on a couple of men; one being William Turner, and the other Victor Benedict. William was a sea man before he started serving on The Wicked Wench; he soon became Jack's second in command, Victor was a boy of nine of which Jack had picked up from a pirate ship he had effectively attacked in order to get his cargo back. (It had changed hands three times before that, but it was all intact) since the boy had started serving on his vessel, he had become jolly in his demeanor. It was nice to see.

As soon as the ship was safely docked, Jack had his men start unloading. The cargo was to go straight to the EITC warehouse to be counted by other employed in that line of work. Jack was to go see Becket and inform him of the successful mission.

"Mr. Turner, your in charge till I get back, savvy?" Jack said to the other man. He dusted off the dark blue coat he wore. It was almost brand new, even with a year at sea, Jack had taken good care of it. Bill Turner nodded his head at his Captain, "Aye, Aye Captain," he saluted. Jack nodded, he loved that title. He loved it a lot.


"How many times did it trade hands?" Beckett asked stiffly.

"Four, sir, but it is all intact, I made sure of it," Jack replied. The man stood in front of the superior man. He wore a white wig to blend in with the surround aristocracy of the EITC. Jack detested the tradition, but knew that he couldn't very well throw it out the window as he liked to do with so many others; especially when it came to family tradition.

"Good, good, take some leave, Captain Sparrow, I will want you here the first of next month, that gives you two weeks," Beckett said.

"Aye, sir," Jack replied. He was dismissed and was glad to make a quick escape. How he detested that man, for whatever reason, Beckett could hardly be trusted. Jack just couldn't figure out why.


"I told you had gotten the wrong man," a boy of nearly eighteen, dressed in a Mid-shipman uniform was glaring at another man. This man could hardly be seen because of the shadows he was immersed in, however, one could tell that this man was of third class material by the way his clothing was patched.

"It ain't me fault that the Cap'n didn't have what we needed," the man replied in a French accent.

"So you say, t'was really the Commodore who has the papers, he still has 'em," the boy had reverted to an accent as well. To any passers-by this would mean that neither was British.

"You're serving on that there ship, laddy, I think you should get the papers," the man replied.

"Sir, I was thinking the same thing," the boy nodded. Several moments later the two went their own separate ways.


"What now, we have no suspects and one dead body," Godly said.

"I'm not sure, if the Commodore has the papers and he stay's aboard his ship, I don't think whoever killed Graves will get to him. I don't think Graves was killed by someone he knew," Abberline replied. They walked up Baker's street for the correct number that the Widow Graves lived.

"The Captain must have made some good income for a place like this," Godly said. Bakers Street was one of the wealthier neighborhoods of London. Abberline wondered if the place hadn't been lent out to the Captain and his family. But refrained from saying anything.

"Do you think she knows?" Godly asked when they found the correct stoop.

"There is only one way to find out," Abberline replied. He knocked on the door swiftly.


a/n – Okay, please review! I kind of have a partial plot for this. But I thought it was just too interesting not to post. Please review and let me know what you think of it.

Ta,

Dizzy