Author's Note: So I'm currently reading a novel in which Oscar Wilde solves mysteries, and it's proving quite an inspiration. I'd really love to hear some people's speculations on how the mystery will turn out (I know already of course, but I want to hear what you guys think. Also I'm really amazed by how popular this fic has been. It's rare that anything I write gets the attention this has. I'm especially surprised considering that this fic doesn't have a beta (yet, anyone interested?) and going back and reading through I've noticed a few errors (which I plan to go back and fix when I get a chance). In any case thank you all so much. Enjoy.

Ciel lounged on a sofa in his smoking jacket reading through the report on the mistress. Sebastian was up getting ready for his role as a drug lord later that evening. He'd opted for rather rakish bohemian attire. His shirt was a loose open piratical thing that left more perfect chest on display than any gentleman would expose, necklaces dangling tantalizingly on the bare skin, his long hair down, a scarf tied through the belt loop of the mind bogglingly tight trousers, high heeled boots, and a full skirted brocade jacket, with earrings in his ears, and rings on every finger. He'd rimmed his eyes with kohl, and sauntered in, presenting himself to Ciel. "How do I look?" he purred, leaning languidly in the door frame, a wicked smirk on his lips. He knew exactly how he looked, exquisitely wild, untamed and sultry.

Ciel lifted his gaze, eyes widening in surprise. It had been so long since he'd seen the other man in dressed like a man, and he'd never seen him quite like this before. Sebastian's suits had always been neat, proper, well cut, and flattering, but terribly proper. Like this Sebastian looked... sinful. He flicked his hair back.

"Well?" said the raven haired man, and Ciel laughed.

"You look like sin," said Ciel, smirking back at him, dropping the file on the coffee table, and walking over to Sebastian, grabbing him by the waist, pulling him in close, pressing his hips against the other man's.

Sebastian purred, lifting his chin up slightly. "So," he said, slipping an arm around Ciel's waist. "I take it you like it then?" he said, raising an eyebrow, his voice sliding easily from upper class tones, to something that might have been Irish by way of Cockney, but it was hard to say. It was a wall travelled accent, suggesting time spent at sea, and Ciel was surprised at Sebastian's ability to so perfectly imitate a different sort of person all together. He'd have to make a note of that interesting little fact for later... should he find himself in the mood for a bit of role playing.

"Indeed," said Ciel, taking Sebastian's chin in hand, and running the tip of his thumb over that lusciously full lower lip, "you look like some pirate captain I've just captured," he added with a chuckle.

"Oh?" said Sebastian, keeping the accent up, amused.

"Yes. If you were a pirate captain, darling," purred Ciel, looking at him intently, "I would use my influence to keep you, and I would bring you home and use you as my personal fuck toy. You'd be a proud creature, wouldn't you?"

"Of course," said Sebastian with a little smile, as Ciel threaded his fingers through the inky black mane.

"I'd break you," said Ciel, pressing his husband up against a wall, "I'd take you, and fuck you senseless and beat you bloody, until all that pride was gone, and you were completely mine," he purred, his mismatched eyes meeting Sebastian's crimson. Sebastian laughed.

"I don't break easily," he said, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Well, it wouldn't be any fun if you did," said Ciel chuckling.

"So... what about the mistress?" asked the ex-butler, changing the subject.

"She's Russian, daughter of disgraced Russian gentry. Her father committed treason, was selling information to the French to pay off gambling debts," he said with a wave of his hand, "her name is Natalia Ivanova. She's nineteen, and was brought over a year ago by some second rate poet who fell in love with her when he was traveling. She broke off the engagement the moment she got to Britain and has been kept by one powerful man or another ever since."

Sebastian nodded. "Right then," he said, "and so we've got the buyers lined up for tonight?"

Ciel nodded. "Lau will be there of course to look them over, you looked over the photos of the men who run the cathouses and their underlings?"

"Of course," said Sebastian with a laugh, "what are you wearing?"

"An auburn wig, the street tough clothes, pistols, and a bandage over the eye," he said, "I intend to play the captain's hired muscle. Grell is helping Meirin is get dressed to go with us as arm candy for you. After all, a powerful drug lord can't be seen without a girl or so on his arm."

"...Meirin?" said Sebastian looking more than slightly worried. It wasn't that he doubted her ability to look the part. With the right hairstyle and attire (and her glasses off) she could easily appear to be the sort of languid vamp who spent her time on the arm of a powerful opium dealer, however her ability to act the part was... rather questionable at best. She was too hyperactive, shrill and,... prone to knocking things over to play such a role, to say nothing of her unfortunate propensity for getting nosebleeds when she got close to him. He could only imagine how she'd react to being asked to curl up at his side with him dressed as he was. If he was very lucky she might be kind enough to faint rather than make a spectacle of herself.

"Isn't she a bit... excitable for this?" said the raven haired man, giving Ciel a look that seemed to say, 'are you joking?'

"I gave her a mild sedative to calm her down. She'll still be just as alert as ever, just calmer."

"Ah," said Sebastian, obviously deeply relieved, "well that's alright then."

"You didn't really just think I'd just sic Meirin on you when you're dressed like that," said the silvery haired man with a chuckle.

"One never knows, darling," he said, "you should change, it's getting quite late."

Ciel glanced at his pocket watch, and nodded.

A bit later the party, Sebastian, Ciel, Bard (wearing spectacles and a suit, taking the part of another henchman) and a blushing Meirin set out. It was a good job Meirin was nearly blind without her glasses, as if she'd seen how she'd looked it was entirely possible she'd have refused to come along at all. Her hair was elaborately curled and pinned up, decked with feathers and flowers, and she was wearing little more than underclothing, a peacock blue corset and a skirt hiked up to reveal a startling amount of her stocking clad legs and high button boots. There was a choker at her throat, and her face was painted up like a proper show girl's, eyes black lined, and pouty lips painted a startling crimson. Bard seemed unable to stop staring, until Sebastian smacked him.

"That's no way to look at a lady, now reel your tongue back into your mouth my good man," he said, voice returning for a moment to its commanding 'lady of the house' tone.

"Sorry, ma'am," muttered the cook, rubbing the back of his head.

"And don't call me ma'am," said Sebastian getting right back into character, "do I look like a woman to you?"

"Not right now, but the way your voice goes when you start scolding me sounds like one," said the cook. Sebastian raised his hand again and Bard quailed.

"Er, sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he said hastily, Sebastian, placated chuckled.

"That's better," he said, "now remember, you two just keep quiet. Bard you look imposing and important and Meirin you look like you're not paying attention."

"Yessir," said Meirin eagerly, and Sebastian wondered for a moment if Ciel had given her enough sedative, but she didn't bounce up and down in her seat, so he pushed the worry aside, as the carriage rattled through the cobbled streets of London till they arrived at the dark and seedy address where they were supposed to wait for the clients. It was a rough little inn by the docks where the big ships importing goods from around the world came in, the sort of place frequented by sailors and less reputable folk.

The group walked in without causing a stir, although Sebastian and his party looked a good sight better off than the general crowd at The Red Hand, such people coming in to deal in their ignominious business was not an uncommon occurrence by any means. They spoke to the bar keeper and were sent up to a room on the second floor where a simple dinner of bread, cheese, and cold roast chicken had been laid out.

The room was dimly lit, and the arrangement of the room with its the rather froufrou pink bed clothes, and beaded lampshades suggested it was often used for sordid assignations between sailors and women of ill repute. Still it was warm with a fire burning in the hearth and the chairs were comfortable.

Sebastian made himself comfortable on the sofa. Meirin took her assigned place leaning against Sebastian. The sedative had taken full effect by then, and so she was quite able to play the bedroom eyed femme fatale, lounging against Sebastian, and looking up at him adoringly. Had she had her glasses on, even the sedative wouldn't have been able to stop the nose bleed that would inevitably have ensued.

Sebastian slid his arm around her shoulders, while Ciel practiced looking threatening. They had a large case of perfectly pure Lady Blanc that they'd acquired with the permission of the royal family for this operation, and everyone in the party was well armed. A well paid guard stood in the hall, and they'd been informed of the potential escape routes including a hidden door in the back of the closet, and a trap door under the dresser.

They now left the door open so as to see who was coming along the passage. They didn't have to wait long before the first client appeared. Since the recent events, London's opium dealers had been hungry with all the large suppliers tapped out.

The first was a sandy haired man in a worn bottle green velvet jacket. He looked worn out, and his tired eyes belied his young face.

Sebastian waved him in lazily, sipping from a glass of fine wine, every inch the pirate king. Ciel watched him. Later he'd drag him to bed, still dressed like this, so he could play lord of the realm punishing pirate king. Ciel of course would change into his one of his finest suits, and lounge with a riding crop on his chair with his pirate whore in front of him... bound, on his knees, but for now he would watch Sebastian play his role and play it very nicely indeed.

"And you are?" said Sebastian looking hi over dismissively, fingers tracing the curve of Meirin's shoulder, "I do like to keep track of my appointments," he added with a wry chuckle.

"I'm Jacob Stark, sir," said the man bowing low. His accent was rough, northern.

Sebastian nodded. He was on the list. "And how much would you like, Mister Stark?" he said with an amused smile, "and how much are you willing to pay."

Ciel loved watching his lover like this, loved to see the powerful creature he had as his obedient pet, loved watching him fill the room with his presence.

"Just a baggie or two, demand's been high of course, but I don't have much money what with what's been going on," said Jacob.

Sebastian smirked and nodded. "And tell me," he said, between sips of wine, "Mister Stark, what do you know of what's been going on?" he added raising an eyebrow.

Jacob looked surprised. "Not very much, sir," he said, "just that some gentleman with a pretty face and deep pockets has been buying up well nigh everything that comes into London, sir."

Sebastian nodded.

"Get the man a bag," he said, naming his price and collecting the money, before waving the man off.

"Most interesting," said Sebastian swirling the wine in his cup, "some gentleman with deep pockets and a pretty face, hm?"

Ciel nodded. The next one came shortly thereafter, and the one after that, neither was particularly interesting. They ran small businesses, though each added a word or two to the description of the man buying up the drugs. He was petite, he was dark of hair, he dressed well.

The fourth customer however was... far more interesting. He was a small man, with dark hair to his chin worn rather fluffy in the back, dressed in a top hat and a rather elegant suit with a jacket in heavy damask, with velvet lapels, and a rather pretty face including bright blue eyes and rather pointed elfin features.

Despite the excitement in the air, the party kept their calm. Sebastian sipping his wine, Ciel standing silent and threatening, bard looking up from his papers, and Meirin still wrapped around Sebastian.

His gaze flicked over the group, as if assessing the threat they posed.

"So," he said, "I hear you have some Lady Blanc to sell," said the man, seeming to relax.

"Indeed," Sebastian replied, "and what is your name, my good man?"

"Cyrus Collier, and you must be Lucian Sparrow," he said, nodding, referring to the alias the other man had adopted for the mission.

"Indeed," said Sebastian with a warm smile, pouring himself another glass of wine, "and how much do you want to buy, sir?" he queried, head tilting to the side.

"How much've you got?" said the other man, who's accent was interesting, American tempered with English, like he'd been in London for some time.

Sebastian chuckled and opened the case, "about five pounds," he said with a little shrug.

"I'll take all of it," said the man casually. Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "This isn't that cheap garbage they sell out in the east end you know," he said with a wave of his hand, "this is pure china white, uncut. Have you got the purse for it?"

The man brought a bag out from inside his jacket, which was filled with more than enough currency to cover the transaction. Sebastian concealed his excitement admirably, nodding, and dropping the bag on the table.

"S' you're the one that's been buying up all the supply in London," he said tilting his head to the side.

"That'd be me," he said with a laugh, "I like to think of it as a civic duty, no one loses any money and I keep the stuff off the streets."

"Admirable," said Sebastian with a chuckle, "but what do you do with it all?"

"That's none of your business," he said, picking up the suitcase and turning to leave, but Ciel stopped him, blocking the door.

"I don't think we're quite through with you yet, Mister Collier," he said, with a malicious smirk on his face.

-TBC-

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