A/N: So, as should be pretty obvious at this point, this is indeed a Toby becomes Jack the Ripper fanfic. It seemed like the only logical thing, upon the end of the movie. (Not sure if the stage production ends the same way, though, so I won't say how it ends for dear Freckles, who hasn't seen the movie.)

As always, enjoy! Cookies for all of my darling reviewers!

"Frederick, I don't know...he had an emergency last night and didn't get back until a few hours ago."

"Let him spend the day sleeping, Abigail. We need him."

"I'm coming too."

"I'm afraid I won't allow that, my pet; it's not a sight for a woman's eyes."

Tobias lay awake as they conversed outside his room. He was flat on his back, staring at the ceiling; he had been in this position since returning from his foray into Whitechapel. He knew, of course, why Frederick needed him. The inspector wanted a surgeon to examine a murder victim. Tobias almost laughed at the irony, and almost wept at his own betrayal of his friend's trust. But he could not refuse. To refuse would raise suspicion, and he could not afford to do that.

When Abberline finally knocked and entered, Tobias sat up and looked at him in the eye.

"Where?" he asked. It was already clear that he had not been asleep.

"Buck's Row," Abberline replied. "An alley within sight of London Hospital. She was found half an hour ago by a stable boy."

"Her name is Mary Ann Nichols, nicknamed Polly," Abberline continued, standing at the head of the body while Tobias knelt beside her. The surgeon's brow was knitted together, his mouth set in a hard line; his dark eyes shone dewy. Abberline put a hand on his friend's shoulder, compassion on his face.

"I know, son; to see purposeful death like this...leaves one with little hope," he said, hardly knowing the inner conflict that was the real source of Tobias's distress. He shook his head and stood, resuming his briefing.

"She was a well-known prostitute, currently staying in a lodging house. The stable boy recognized her by her clothes. She stole them from a workhouse in Lambeth," the inspector said.

"Curious," said a nearby officer. "Her throat was cut, but there's barely any blood on her."

Abberline frowned and looked at Tobias, who looked back up at him before pointing to the purplish spots on the Nichols' neck.

"She was strangled first," Tobias said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and continued. "Her throat was cut postmortem."

"Why?" asked Abberline. The surgeon shrugged, not trusting himself to speak.

"It's possible that the murderer killed her by accident, and cut her throat to make it look like someone else had done it," said a second officer. Tobias looked at him.

"But with what?" asked the young man.

"What do you mean, Tobias?" asked Abberline. Tobias stood up, wincing as he gingerly moved his lame leg.

"The cut was made by something very precise, very sharp," the surgeon said confidently. "There's hardly any tearing or snagging of the skin. He was careful about it. Someone trying to cover a mistake would likely be panicked, and make a hasty job of it."

Abberline nodded, muttering to himself as he squatted to examine the wound again.

"So," he said, almost inaudibly, "who would have possession of such a precise instrument?"

Tobias heard him.

"Plenty of tradesmen require implements that could have made that cut," he said. "Butchers, carpenters, fishermen...barbers...even surgeons," he added, raising his eyebrows at his friend as though trying to remind him of something. Abberline nodded gravely.

"Whitechapel's full of tradesmen," said the first officer, his incredulity obvious. Their suspects, by that conclusion, were numerous.

Tobias couldn't help but feel somewhat amused by, if not Abberline, then his entourage. They were all fools who were only interested in how much work they'd have to do. In Abberline, however, Tobias saw a true opponent, someone who was more than clever enough to put the pieces together if he had but one more piece of information...and was without a certain fondness for the real murderer.

What a fine line you will have to tread, Tobias, the young surgeon told himself. He was ashamed to realize that he felt both sadness and exhilaration at the thought of such a challenge.

"Do you see now why I needed you?" Abberline asked, standing.

"It is a strange murder," Tobias agreed.

The Inspector put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Go home, my young friend. Get some rest, or Abigail will have me murdered next," he said, smiling slightly. Tobias returned the inspector's gesture, though his face remained sober.

"You know where I am, should you need me again," he said. "Though I must hope it is only to consult more on this case, and not to review another like it."

"That is a hope we share, young Tobias," Abberline said with a sigh.