Ha ha! Finally got this up! Sorry for the dilemma! So we're finally coming to an end of the story. I have a couple more chapters to write before its over with, but I'd say they're coming along rather nicely. To be quite honest, I'm a little self conscious about this chapter. I dunno i just don't like it that much, so feel free to tell me what you think about it! Well i think that's just about it for now, so I hope you guys like it! Thanks for all the support! :)


Chapter 7

"Alfred! Alfred! Get back here you damned git!" I yelled as I sprinted out of the palace's doors in search for the blonde American amongst the ocean of people and buildings. I did, however, spot his long cowlick peek up from the tops of the heads of passerby's. I attempted to track down the swaying piece of hair before it disappeared into the crowds again. It was almost like an eye spy, trying to catch glimpses of that American. Damnit! Why did he have to run off like this?

The cowlick, I noticed, moved faster and faster along the long stretch of road. I called his name out again and again, but he seemed to drown me out. Alfred took a swift left turn down an alley way, a failed attempt to throw me off his trail. I sped up and maneuvered my way around the busy hustle and bustle of the Londoners to find Alfred leaning against the brick wall enclosing the dead end alley. He looked infuriated and took deep long breaths as his eyes were fixated on the dirty brick wall across from him.

"Alfred you damned wanker!"

"What do you want?" he retorted scolding.

"Don't use that voice with me Alfred, please."

"Don't tell me what to do. You're not in charge of me!"

"Alfred, listen, I know you're upset but,"

"Damn right I'm upset! We've spent all that time, all those hours searching for answers, and for what? Nothing!" He took a step away from the wall and now turned to me, face to face. With great acrimony in his disposition and speech, he continued.

"All of those women died and it means nothing to you! You're just giving up!"

"You don't think I want to catch the Ripper?" I yelled back. It hurt to hear that he thinks it means nothing, because of course it does, for the past months it has been my everything.

"Well, you're sure not acting like it!" He turned his back towards me and leaned against the wall once more. I don't ever recall seeing him this angry before. Usually he has that goofy grin plastered on his face regardless the severity of the matters at hand and always manage to maintain his plucky optimism.

"Maybe that's because I refuse to act like a child when things don't go my way." Silence. I think that was a wee bit to far.

"Listen, I want to solve this as much as you, but I won't go against my monarch. Alfred, that's treason."

"Well, then let's hope Gull is the actual Jack the Ripper, which I'm sure he is. If we catch him then her highness will be so happy she won't send punishment down our way."

"But,"

"But what?" He whipped around to face me once more. "You had your chance with Francis; yes I know it failed, but now its time to move on! Let me have my chance. If I'm wrong then I'll take the blame and say you had no part in this, just let me take the chance I'm willing to bet my life on. You may think I'm an idiot, just as you always do, for saying this all, but I'm a lot smarter than what you give me credit for. When I say Gull is suspicious, I mean he really is a shady character, so don't discredit my theory just because I said it! I'm willing to investigate further, queen's permission or not! I'm willing to take a stand for what I believe in, to be a hero. Are you?"

I paused. He made decent points, yet it is all so very unsettling. This is direct disobedience, but if he's right what could possibly happen for locking up a notorious knife wielding lunatic? However, we risk everything if we are found out and have nothing to show for our efforts. Possibilities of this happening seem high, in addition it is Alfred taking charge here, and I don't know how successful this is going to be. Now this is all going down to trust. I want to trust him with this. My head says no, but my heart is saying yes or perhaps it wants to say yes. After consideration, I slowly nodded my head, much to Alfred's surprise.

"Wow, to be honest I didn't expect you to say yes."

"Yeah, well I wasn't entirely expecting to say yes either. Now just shut up and tell me what you want to do." It's weird to say that and not be the one leading the way. I've always been the leader for every situation, but know this lad will be calling the shots.

"Well for one, I want to press into this guy. I want to know all the secrets he has to hide. I know that scalpel is not just for decoration. By the looks of it, the Queen hasn't had any operations, so why would anyone keep a bloody scalpel in a locked box?"

"Well now that he has seen you prowling about in his office, I highly doubt he is going to let you take a peek. In addition to that, there's no bloody way we're going to sneak into the palace. Not with the guards lurking about, they'll shoot us dead."

"Doesn't he have a house or something?"

"I would think so."

"Then we'll start there! We should go to the police station or Scotland yard to get the address."

It seems like a decent plan, however I'm positive that the police and the yard were already informed about us being disbanded from the case, so there's no way we would be able to access police records. I explained this to Alfred to which he proposed we talk with Abberline about it.

"Abberline likes you Arthur, and I'm sure he'd help us out. You should write a letter or something explaining everything goin' on."

"Alright, I will do so."

Knock knock. The fidgety Abberline, whom I had informed about our present state via letter, stood at my doorstep the next day with a slip of parchment with the address of Dr. Gull inscribed onto the sheet.

"Abberline, thank you so much for aiding me, I know this must have been risky. I'm forever grateful to you my friend."

"Yes, anytime." He replied in a softer tone then usual.

"Is something troubling you Fredrick? You seem a wee bit off."

"No, I'm fine, just nervous I suppose. The Yard and the police are just at odds, that's all. We're not coming any closer to identifying this fiend and you two seem to be making far more progress then the Yard and the Police combined. Arthur, if it's not too much of a burden, would you mind if I helped you and Alfred further?" Poor chap; there must be plenty of friction between the Yard and the Police for Abberline to want to stick with us.

"No, not at all. Your help is very much welcomed and appreciated. I just hope we're right with this accusation and this doesn't turn into another Bonnefoy." I told him as I ushered him into the house.

"I'm inclined to agree. You seem far more confident about this accusation then your last one though."

"It's not actually my accusation, its Alfred's."

"Alfred's?" Abberline questioned in surprise. "He formed this?"

"Yes, believe it or not, he did."

"He is the last person I thought you would have sought accusations from. Speaking of which, where is the lad?"

"I'm right here." Alfred chimed in as he strolled into the room with one of my crumpets in hand.

"Is that my crumpet?" I questioned agitatedly.

"Hm? Oh yeah it is. Here you can have it back, it kinda tastes like a petrified couch cushion." He said blatantly as he pushed the crumpet into my hands.

"TAKE THAT BACK YOU BLEEDING PRAT! My crumpets are delectable, unlike that rubbish you're use to eating."

"Is that Dr. Gull's address?" He continued, ignoring my insults.

"Yes it is," I grumbled, "Abberline is coming with us by the way."

"Alright, that's fine by me." He said as he grasped the paper out of Abberline's hand and examined it closely before he continued.

"So I think we should head out for the doc's house at 9 AM tomorrow. It is a Friday, so he'll defiantly be working at the time." Alfred seems to have actually thought this through.

The next, day at precisely 9 AM, we made our way to the doctor's abode, which was not too far from Buckingham Palace. Anyone under the Queen stayed close to her, either in the palace, itself, or in a close proximity in case of emergency. William Gull would spend his days there at the palace aiding Her Majesty and servants in their health, while his nights would be spent here at his home only to repeat the process again the next day. Once we reached the door of one of the more lavished looking houses of London, the good Doc's house, I twisted the knob of the door and with no surprise, it was locked. I reached down into my pocket to retrieve my lock pick that never left my person.

When I was a young boy my fixation for locked doors, chests, drawers, and anything else with a lock on it left me thirsty to learn what was inside of the sealed off item. Thus my skill for lock picking was born. I first learned the trade from one of my older brothers, Alistair. (Presently we are not on good terms, like the rest of my brothers) I would watch him pry open any lock he came across. I soon picked up the art myself and became exceptional at the trade.

I stuck the lock pick inside of the key hole and began to twist it, listening ardently for the clicking noise, amazingly without results. This must be a more complex lock than I originally presumed. I maneuvered the pick every which without any luck and eventually exerted enough force on the pick that it snapped in the key hole!

"BOLLOCKS! What the hell happened? I'm an expert, that's not suppose to,"

"Hey Arthur!" The door swung open and standing on the other side was that damned American, smiling and staring at me through those square framed glasses. My features pulled into an exasperated expression of "how the hell did you get in there" and "there's times I'd love to strangle you, this being one of them".

"What in the world Alfred? How did you get in there?"

"The window on the side of the house wasn't locked properly." He laughed and turned into the building. Abberline, grinning and attempting to holding back giggles, following closely behind. Grudgingly, I dawdled into the affluently decorated house. Abberline and Alfred waited for me in the hallway of the house where the three of us agreed to split up and search the house for anything suspicious. Abberline took the upstairs, I had the study and the rest of the rooms towards the front of the house, and Alfred had the sitting room and the kitchen. (Not that I'm to surprise about his choice in rooms. Ever since that gluttonous American arrived here, my food bill has increased ten fold!)

I decided to first check the study, perhaps something of interest will pop up. The study, a light blue room with polished wooden floors, was organized and neatly set up. A large floor to ceiling window looked out to a proper English garden and a red wood desk was set just so to look out to the greenery. (Not a bad place to work if I do say so myself.)

Journals and neatly stacked papers on new medical procedures were set on the surface of the red wood and the same went for the drawers, all very organized. I slid the chair out from underneath the desk when something rather curious caught my eye. A bit of dried mud in the shape of a shoe was smudged onto the floor. Now if Dr. Gull were a messy and disorganized man then I would not pay heed to such an insignificant blemish, but he's not. I glanced out of the window out towards the garden to make the comparison between the dried mud stain and the garden dirt. The garden dirt appeared to be darker when wet, I would know too. After all I do a bit of gardening myself and that is the same type I use for my roses and such. So where is this dirt on the floor from? Gull had to have stepped in it somewhere along the lines and tracked it into the study. It most certainly isn't from around these parts. I wonder if the others would care to hear about this….

I stepped put of the room and into the hallway when a scream echoed throughout the house.

"ARTHUR! ABBERLINE!"

"Shite Alfred! Hold on!" I yelled back franticly as I dashed towards the origin of Alfred's voice. I ran into the hall when Abberline staggered down the stairs; we both darted to timorous voice from there.

Alfred stood next to the marble fireplace in the sitting room, staring profoundly at a piece of parchment. Never taking his eyes off the parchment, he motioned Abberline and I to view the page with a small list of names and dates inscribed onto the page.

Mary Ann Nichols….August 21, 1888

Annie Chapman….September 8, 1888

Catherine Eddowes….September 30, 1888

Elizabeth Stride…...September 30, 1888

Mary Jane Kelly…...November 9, 1888

"My word!" I interjected as I grasped the parchment and stared at the names.

"Proof enough for you?" Alfred stammered

"Where did you find this lad?" questioned Abberline

"A brick in the fireplace was loose. If I hadn't tripped on that side table over yonder I wouldn't have noticed it."

"Mary Jane Kelly? Another harlot I presume…" I whispered, handing the list of the names written in black to Abberline.

"Yes, I would like to think so." He added.

"Never mind who she is!" the American yelled boisterously, "let's go and arrest this bastard!"

"We can't do that you twat! If you don't remember let me be first to point out we were expelled form the case, ergo we cannot burst through Buckingham's doors screaming bloody murder! And in addition to that, next to Kelly's name is today's date meaning she could be in great danger."

"Oi, why don't we split up?" proposed Abberline. "I'll go to the police, state the situation, and show them this list. That should be enough proof in itself for them to start looking into Gull. Arthur you should go to this Kelly woman and make sure she is alright, and Alfred, stay here and keep an eye out for Gull. Do try and stall him here in the house's premise until Arthur or I arrive on scene."

"Brilliant Abberline! Let us get going then. Time is of the essence."

Time flew by as I scampered to Whitechapel again. The familiarity of the poverty and grottieness of the sector hit me like a cold bucket of water. Now being in Whitechapel knowing who I'm after versus taking stabs in the dark was relief and confidence in itself, yet all very hectic. Why? Well for one, I don't know where Kelly lives. Normally it is below me to ask for help, but desperate times call for desperate measures; I asked for directions. After wandering about I stopped those traversing the streets to ask them the address of Ms. Kelly, to whom most of which stared at me awkwardly and left. That is until I asked one woman glancing into a shop window.

"Excuse me madam?" The woman turned from the window revealing her thin tired face and gaunt body. Her low cut dress had dirt speckled onto it and her skin appeared almost multi-coloured from the grime. Typical of the people in Whitechapel, depressing but typical.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Uh do you know of a Mary Jane Kelly?"

"Oh! Fair Emma! Why do ya ask? Lookin' for her services perhaps? A strapping young fellow like you havin' problems with the ladies," she chuckled "if you were a tad bit older I'd take ya for me self, yes I would!"

"WHAT? I'm not looking for her bloody services, I'm a gentleman! Gentlemen, like me, do not partake in such a thing! And I am NOT having problems with ladies; I just… haven't found the right one yet! Now would you quit your infernal laughing and give me her bloody address!"

"Calm yourself, I'm only joking with ya lad. You know comedy!"

"Save the comedies for Shakespeare."

"Well, aren't you stiff? Now I see why you're havin' problems with women. Fair Emma lives out on 13 Millers Court off Dorset, yes she does."

"Thank you SO very much." I mumbled sarcastically. I honestly do not know how anyone could mistake me, a gentleman, for some sleazy tosspot that would perform such an obscenity. Now if I were to look like Francis then that would be a completely different story.

The sun rose, only to be blotted out by the thick grey clouds in the sky, as I searched for the address. Time was off the essence, so there isn't a moment to lose. I pulled my pocket watch from my vest, the second hand rhythmically ticked around the face as the time continued to slowly ebb away. 10:30. Damnit!

Raindrops slowly started descending from the sky and a very light layer fog had soon begun to blanket the streets and alley ways as I looked for 13 Millers Court. Millers Court was a collections of housing along a narrow alley way. Immediately stepping into the darkness of the alley, an eerie presence lurked among the shadows. To accompany that, I had the strangest feeling of Déjà vu, like I had been here before. A small light above a door at the far end of the alley penetrated through the dark and foggy weather. With no other option but to venture forward, despite the eerie feeling, I cautiously made my way further down the alley, examining the doors along the way. Cold raindrops fell onto my face and slowly worked their way down to my chin as my brain went over why this locating seemed oh so familiar. Yet I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Left foot in front of right, I made it to the door of Mary Jane Kelly when it hit me.

The dream of Francis! It all came back, all the blood, the insanity, and the location. In the dream the alley I walked through was so very similar, the end of the lane wasn't blocked off by buildings in the dream, but the grey colours and ridged textures were one in the same. In that dream I had found the Ripper, but paid the price for it; I was stabbed with a scalpel through the heart. Does this mean I will-?

"My god." I whispered to myself. Dark scarlet fluid leaked from underneath the door I was standing in front of, and seeped out onto the ground, staining it in red. My body shook and trembled from watching that wretched colour slowly transform into a dark brown and clump together, becoming as thick and sticky looking as syrup.

The door then swung open, letting loose the strong and putrid smell of blood into the thick air. Standing in the doorway, as blood soaked as a butcher, was Jack the Ripper, Dr Gull.

On seeing me his features twisted into surprise and shock and his mouth twitched and jerked awkwardly, chocking to find the right words to speak. I burned with anger. It raged and welted inside me like Mt. Vesuvius ready to explode. To know a fucker like this was under my nose, this WHOLE time… it's … it's… unforgivable.

"Arthur!" He said in an urgent tone "I, I came here on hearing screaming coming from this building and found this woman butchered. There was nothing I could,"

"Cut your shit Jack! You… you oozing sore of depravity! You have dishonoured this country, and dishonoured the Queen, and it is my duty, and personal pleasure, to make sure unhinged little fucks, like you, painted in crimson blood are brought to justice. Jack the Ripper, or should I say Dr. William Withey Gull, in the name of the Queen, this sovereign country, and in the name of justice, I here by arrest you for the brutal murders of Mary Ann Nichols, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Eddowes, and victim number five lying in a pool of crimson blood, Mary Jane Kelly!"

Jack tiled his head towards the ground and laughed ominously, and unsettling; it made my stomach turn.

"You really think you can put an end to me? Put an end to me purifying London from those whores?" He asked me as a Glasgow smile grin spread across his face. He popped his head up just enough for me to see his large protruding eyes glaring and burning right at me, before he spoke up once more.

"I'm doing what I do for the sake of this country and I'm not about to let some silly detective hero want to be like you stop me!" He pulled an eight inch scalpel from his coat and with speed and accuracy; he lunged towards me with the blade and attempted to plunge it through my throat. I caught his wrists, keeping the blade suspended above my throat. He exerted more force upon the scalpel as I struggled to keep it away from my skin. My eyes teared up and muscles began to weaken. Well Arthur old chap, this seems to be the end of the line.

"Arthur! Hey Art you here?" A voice cried out in the distance. Just my luck! Jack, distracted by the voice, loosened up just enough for me to slip away. In a matter of seconds I mustered all the strength I had and punched Gull square in the face, sending him and the scalpel flying backwards, rendering him unconscious.

The voice from before, Alfred, arrived upon the scene immediately after, brandishing a Remington M95 Double Derringer at Gull's cataleptic body.

"Now where'd you get that?" I asked him while laughing faintly out of relief.

"Ha I always keep my pistol on me! Its easily concealed you've never noticed it." He turned his gaze at me and flashed a large smile. "Oh and by the way the police are on the-ACK!" Gull, from the ground, kicked the American's stomach hard, loosening his grip on the gun and pried it from his hand. Jack aimed the gun at my head and I stared deep down the barrel of that gun; the end of the line.

"ARTHUR!"

BANG! I fell to the ground hard, rolling over to my left and hit my head against the pavement. I opened my eyes slowly and felt myself quickly for blood or a bullet hole. None. I was left unscathed… If it didn't hit me then what did-

"No! No! OH GOD NO! ALFRED!" I screeched from the top of my lungs. The Ripper ran out of the alley, taking the gun with him and leaving Alfred standing there, eyes empty and fixated straight ahead of him, clutching his stomach. Blood spread through the fabric of his shirt, like the ripple effect from casting a stone into a pond. Alfred's mouth was gaped and his entire body trembled and shook as he crashed to his knees.

My throat tied into a knot and tears spewed from my eyes as I ran to the fallen man and cradled his limp body in my arms. He looked at me in pain, his dull blue eyes meeting my reddening green, and tried to stutter out words.

"Shh. You're going to be alright Al. T-try not to talk." More tears fell from my eyes as I ripped a strip of my shirt off to stop his bleeding. I undid the buttons of his shirt, revealing the bloody muscles of his abdomen, and applied the cloth to the hole in his body. He cringed as I put pressure onto it. Alfred's dulled eyes were now half way shut and welted with tears and intense pain. His mouth slightly moved again, trying to form words. A small crackling sound came from the back of his throat and before he muttered 'Arthur' so quietly almost to the point of inaudibility.

"Please… please Alfred... please don't leave me." The rain and my tears, one in the same, dripped onto Alfred's weak body. I pressed his head close to my chest as I kept my hand and cloth on the bleeding skin of his stomach. His breathing shallowed and heart beat grew faint. Alfred F. Jones muttered my name one more time before closing his teary lifeless eyes.

"ALFRED!"


AND CLIFF HANGER!MUAHAHAHAHA :-D Sorry a bit mean was it not?

So that was depressing to write. But Alas It's not the end of the story. More will awaiting and will be posted ASAP! Let me know what you guys thing! Thank you all for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! :)