Early the next day, Madelyn made her way across the London rooftops toward Malborough Place, where she usually searched for food and could easily acquire the daily news. She dropped silently down in an alleyway and peered into the trashcans lining it. Quickly grabbing a few clean-looking scraps and consuming them, Madelyn made her way out onto the street. It was still below freezing in London, and there were only a few people out in the streets, making their ways to work or possibly running desperate errands. Spotting a trashcan across the street with several newspapers lining it, Madelyn darted across the icy street and plunged her hand into the discarded papers, extracting the current issue.
The main article was once again about the missing detective and professor, revealing a bit more of how Holmes had managed to unravel the scheme of the cunning Moriarty (as reported by Doctor John Watson, who happened to be Holmes' closest friend). The article also revealed the service of Holmes' funeral was to be held tomorrow, and only close friends were to be able to attend. The location of the service was not disclosed to the press, but Madelyn knew precisely where to go. It was not hard to derive that out of the many churches in London, the Westminster Abbey was the church closest to the final confrontation of Lord Blackwood, the case previous to the one concerning Moriarty (who coincidentally, made his presence known in the vicinity of the final confrontation of Blackwood and effectively instigated the case which brought about his own demise). It was actually quite a large church, and how they would manage to keep wind of this away from the press was beyond her.
She quickly grew tired of the crime section of the paper, as they were all too simple. Discarding the paper a second time, Madelyn jogged lightly back towards a building across the street and scaled it effortlessly. She decided to spend the night closer to the abbey Holmes' service was to take place, and began her long journey of roof-hopping to the southwest of London. She had no difficulty for a good thirty blocks, until she entered a wealthier neighborhood. A large crowd surrounded a particular house on Wellington Place, and Madelyn's curiosity was piqued. Lying down on the roof and peering down on the crowd, she listened carefully. She could hear sniffles and sobs as well as a few quiet voices.
"It's just s-so tragic," a woman stuttered as she held a handkerchief to her face, "the entire family…"
"They died in their sleep it seems." a man in a white uniform spoke kindly to the woman.
"Whatever the cause of their passing, they looked peaceful, so they mustn't have been in any pain when it…happened." He consoled the woman best he could.
Madelyn observed several stretchers lying beside a white carriage, all of which were covered with white cloth. There were two adult-sized figures on two stretchers that were side-by-side, and three more stretchers that followed had figures much smaller underneath the sheets. It was indeed an upsetting sight, to see an entire family (and a wealthy one at that), die within the night, especially during a time so cold and unforgiving. After reviewing the scene before her, she concluded the upset woman was a maid at the household of the deceased (who lived off-site due to the adornment of a traveling coat). Standing back up, she brushed off the snow on her front and turned to leave. But a loud, angry voice called out behind her.
"Oi! Who in the bloody hell is that? What is she doin' up there?"
A man from the crowd below had spotted her, alerting the entire mass of people to her presence. Several gasps and cries of outrage echoed from around the man. Madelyn turned quickly to leave, as the voices grew louder and angrier. She could only assume that the people thought she had something to do with the deaths of the family, so she hastily departed to avoid a confrontation for something she did not have anything to do with. After she had gained some distance from the yelling throng of concerned citizens, she slowed her pace and leisurely kicked snow up as she went. Skidding suddenly in the icy snow, she slid ungracefully into a chimney and let out a grunt as the air was knocked from her chest and her head thumped against the cold brick. Coughing and panting, she climbed back to her feet, slipping slightly in doing so, and looked around to make sure no one had seen such clumsiness. Satisfied that no one saw her, she glanced over the edge of the roof, seeing that the house she stood upon was in fact 221B Baker Street. Something stirred in her memory about the address, but her little collision with the chimney had her feeling rather scrambled. Shrugging lightly and rubbing her head, she continued on past 221B. Her stomach growled loudly as she walked across a rooftop on Melcombe St. Sighing loudly, she climbed down the building and walked calmly on the sidewalk.
"It's much busier down here." Madelyn commented to herself, observing a much higher number of pedestrians the farther south she travelled.
She knew that today she would have to pick-pocket to earn a meal for herself, and frowned in discontentment. She successfully lifted change from a few pockets, and nodded to herself when she gathered enough for a decent amount of food. As she made her way to a bakery on the block, a man in a patchy-grey cloak and a tan hat pulled down over his face roughly bumped into her shoulder and attempted to lift the money she had recently collected from her pocket. She rolled her eyes and clenching her jaw in frustration, executed her signature maneuver to return the money back to her own pocket. Grinning in satisfaction, she continued to walk towards the bakery as if nothing had happened.
Short chapter, I know. Sorry if I sound repetitive sometimes, it's hard replacing such common words as 'rooftop' or 'quietly' without the phrasing sound weird.
