Desmond disliked the idea of getting his suit wet. Elaine knew that while he certainly didn't mind getting his hands dirty in a metaphorical sense, he wasn't too pleased to do so in literal sense if he felt it could be avoided. Even if it was just getting wet. But Elaine, who was getting a little anxious to find that crown, had pointed out that in the time they would wait for Raymond to move closer with the ship, the time would pass and that it might not be such a wise idea to stay inside a tomb that had not been open for more than two millennium.

Desmond was still reluctant, but gave in. So, they used some rope they brought to tie together some of the stronger remains of the boat so they could have something to hold onto as they went down into the water. After that, they would have to leave their bags here and carry what they could in their hands to keep said items dry.

This resulted in them carrying one flashlight now, as well as the translation booklet and some smaller tools that may come in handy later.

"Ready?" asked Desmond, as he and Elaine sat on the edge of this river (was that the right term? Maybe canal would have been better, but Elaine couldn't really be bothered to care much right now), items held and the bundle of wood between them to use as a type of buoyancy object.

"May as well," Elaine said. The part of her legs already submerged in the water were already use to the temperature at this stage. It was cold, and anywhere else it would have made the French woman flinch more. Now however, in the hot country of Egypt, it felt more like a relief if anything. She could only hope though that her sandals wouldn't accidently get swept away by the current once they fully got in.

"Then let's."

They pushed themselves into the water, quickly resting their arms on the wood and allowed the current to carry them into the dark tunnel. Desmond, who was holding the flashlight they brought, shun the light around, trying to find anything of deep interest. There was more paintings on the walls. It looked to be showing the trials a newly deceased person, in this case the Pharaoh, faced before they were judged before Osiris before they reached the afterlife or were eaten by Ammit, was it, the Devourer of Souls. Placing the drawings in this tunnel was certainly a good choice if Elaine had to say so herself.

"This isn't as bad as I thought it would be," Elaine noted after several minutes of nothing. "'Ow do you think this was made?"

"Well, it could be that there's just a certain way this was built to make it flow as such," Desmond replied. "It would be the most likely possible answer. Though, I do question how there's water here in the first place. I wouldn't have thought it would be here after so long. But, perhaps there are some questions better not knowing. Or at least, not necessary to be understood. For the time being at least."

"Well, as long as we find an edge to grab onto, I think we'll be able to look back on this and maybe laugh a little."

"Easy for you to say," Desmond grumbled in an almost childish manner. Elaine didn't respond back to him, instead she just smiled to herself.

It didn't seem like a lot of time had passed when the signs of an edge appeared. It had been difficult given that the two were holding small items, and still using their make shift buoyancy aid. But being careful, they managed to get onto the ledge (Desmond first, then Elaine), and even managed to pull the wood up with them before it could float away.

"I still wish we could have gotten a proper raft."

"We'll take warm baths when we get back to the ship," Elaine brushed it off. Looking to Desmond, Elaine narrowed her eyes. With only one flashlight, it was hard to see, but she was certain something was different with Desmond's hair now that they were out of the water. She grabbed the flashlight from the ground before Desmond could and shun it in Desmond's direction, her mouth dropping in surprise.

Having only seen Desmond's hair curled, Elaine had never really considered what his actually hair length might have been if it were not curled but now she knew. It was actually only an inch or two shorter than her own, but it was still longer then Elaine had thought it would be.

It actually looked good now that Elaine considered it. A bit different, and while she did like Desmond's curled-end hairstyle, she had to admit that seeing his hair down like this was a sight she never wanted to forget, and secretly would like to see again at some point. In fact…

"Elaine!"

Elaine jumped in her place, startled by Desmond's sharp call back to reality. He was scowling a bit, and seemed to be aware of Elaine's cause of staring as he pushed his wet locks back.

"Do you really have to stare?"

"It's a different look, I can't 'elp it." Elaine tilted her head to the side as she let a new image come into her mind. Desmond's hair fully down and blowing gently in the wind as he wears a ruffled poet shirt. With or without his glasses, the look still works. Hell, it was actually quite… arousing in a way. Though Elaine wasn't sure if she should be slightly ashamed for letting her mind think as though she was a teenage girl again, or just commit the image to memory forever and ever.

The later was winning so far.

"Are you still staring at me because of my hair," Desmond faintly groaned. "Honestly, I would think my normal hairstyle to be better than just… Letting it down like this. It just feels… Naked."

"They both look good on you," Madam Merry told him. Checking her soaked shirt, she decided to playfully tease the red eyed man. "What if I let you shine the light on my shirt? I think its see-through now because of the water so that might make us even~."

"Th-that won't be necessary!" Desmond had quickly taken the light from Elaine to shine around their new location, though Elaine felt certain that she had seen traces of blushing on his face.

"You weren't going to get a look anyway." Elaine picked up the rest of their things and looked in the direction of the light. There was another hallway, and the entrance of it had a statue of Sekhmet on either side of the entrance. It reminded Elaine of the entrance of the fire chamber from the Azran sanctuary, though not as intimidating.

"Sekhmet. The warrior goddess," Desmond noted in a slightly absent minded way.

"It also makes you wonder if it gives any indication of what's ahead." Desmond glanced to Elaine, but didn't respond. There wasn't a need to. Elaine however pressed her hand against Desmond's shoulder, and indicated him to move forward.

"Let's keep moving, shall we?"

OMAKE THEATRE: Where Layton characters are chibi-fied!

How did this happen? That was the question in Descole's mind as he looked in the mirror. This wasn't possible. It defied many laws. Biology, nature, religions that didn't have gods like Loki or Cronus. But the evidence was in front of him in the mirror.

He was pregnant. Six months too by the looks of it.

Elaine sat on the bed behind him. Just as shocked as he was. Neither of them said a word.

"… So who's the father?" Elaine asked suddenly.

"What?!" Descole shot Elaine a dark glare. Not that she would know because of his mask.

"Well we 'aven't 'ad sex, so who's the baby daddy? Who did you cheat on me with?" Elaine questioned as she folded her arms, an angry look on her face.

"I… I don't know how this happened! It was like this this morning!"

A knock came to the door, and Raymond entered.

Also preggers.

"Oh, good. It's not just me," said Raymond as though it was an everyday thing for men to suddenly find themselves pregnant.

"This is a dream…" Descole mumbled. "It has to be a dream."

But it wasn't just the household of the Sexy Frenchwoman, Sexy masked Frenchman-wannabe and too old to be sexy Scottish butler. Oh no…

"Does this mean you're a lady now, Professor?" Luke inquired innocently as his mentor sat in his office. The Professor had not even touched his tea and Emmy and Luke could only look at him in concern. Just in case you were wondering, Luke isn't preggo. He's too young, and even that's weird for fanfiction.

"There has to be a reason for this," Professor Layton mumbled as he took off his hat. "I haven't had sexual intercourse, and Rosetta Stone hasn't made another drug-my-tea-and-kidnap-me-to-have-her-way-with-my-professor-built-body attempt since last Saturday."

"And I guess it's unlikely you're carrying the next saviour," Emmy said, trying to bring in some humour. "Or maybe it's the Anti-Christ? Think about it. If Jesus was born to a woman, then the Anti-Christ, who is the opposite, would be born to the opposite gender."

"While I could understand your reasoning, I doubt it."

"Maybe you just ate a lot of food, Professor?" Luke chirped. "Like my dad!"

"Your… father?" Professor Layton did not like where this was going.

"Yeah! Before I came back here, I saw dad at breakfast with a big belly like yours!"

Oh God…

"Come to think of it, so was Doland! And the milkman. The binman. A policeman, in fact all of the policemen of Misthallery. In fact, I think nearly every bloke back home was preggers. I think even Crow was too!"

Luke is too young, but Crow isn't. Deal with it.

"Oh, and on my way here, I think even the Dean was pregnant too! He was crying outside the bathroom for his 'lost, handsome body."

The phone rang and Emmy answered it while the Professor groaned. How could this get worse?

"Professor, it's Angela," Emmy told him. "She says both Henry and Randall are pregnant, as is Alphonse and basically everyone in Monte d'Or."

Fuck.

"Attention everyone," Dean Delmona's voice could be heard from the intercoms. "Due to every single male in school being pregnant, from student to teachers, and from myself to the janitor, classes will be cancelled, and all facilities will be closed. We know this may interfere with your studies, but frankly, all we have to say is this;

"Tough lemons."

"Mother of God," Professor Layton whimpered. "This is getting worse by the second."

And it wasn't just the good guys, oh no.

As far as the eye could see, all members of Targent were running around, screaming their heads off. I say all because the group appears to be sexist and has no female members. Rachel was kidnapped and never seen actually apart of the group like her husband so she doesn't count. Neither does the wife of that one soldier who is only a part of Targent to be with his wife (according to his profile) count. It's basically a sausage fest.

Bloom was sitting across from Bronev, hoping to reason with him.

"Sir, I really think we should look into this. It's a serious problem and if we're not careful it could end in a complete disaster!"

Bronev was too busy patting his belly to care though.

"If you're a girl, I'll name you… Racheleo Rosaleo Bronev. If you're a boy, you'll be Leon Leonidas Bronev the Second," Bronev said to his belly affectionately. Bloom could only stare. It was bad enough that a possible girl would end up with a horrendous combination of Leon and Rachel, and a terrible attempt to combine Rosalie and Leo. But Leon Leonidas? The second? The poor bastard (quite a literally one in this case, all things considered) would be mocked all his life until he could legally change it.

"Does this mean I'm getting a sibling, or an aunt and uncle?" Johanna asked as she suddenly appeared next to Bloom.

"You're going to be one of the few people who are older than their aunt and uncle," Bloom sighed. Johanna frowned before asking another question.

"How will all of the babies come out? Will there be a C-section or will they be pooped out?"