"That was an odd experience," Diederich said.
It was now well past both of their bed times, and it was closer to dawn than it was to any other time of day but the sun had not risen. He was visibly tired and he had very little endurance when it came to sleep deprivation. Vincent however, had no problem, though he was starting to get a bit of a withdrawal headache from the lack of intoxication in his system. He took out another opium cigarette and lit it. He inhaled and exhaled quietly as they walked together in some direction. He wasn't sure who was leading or who was following at this point. They had left the girl at her home. Her name was Hortensia. She spoke with quiet words and looked at them like she suspected them of wanting to hurt her. It was hard for Vincent to come up with something to say hat would exonerate him for the accusations of evil intent. He was evil, but his evil intent wasn't meant to be directed near this girl. The burn mark on Diederich's hand was proof of that. Maybe Hortensia was surprised when they left her with a goodbye. Maybe she was expecting that they'd come back to finish the job, so to say. Perhaps she was too used to people directing cruelty towards her, and it drove her to try to kill herself. So much that when someone was actually trying to be nice to her, she suspected it to be a front for something else. It could have been murder, but it wasn't.
"I'm not sure how to feel about this case," Vincent said.
"Look over there," Diederich said.
"What?" Vincent asked, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. He looked over, and saw a man and a woman. It was nearing dawn but it wasn't yet time for people to start heading to work. The streets were empty, save for himself and Diederich. It was not at all normal to see two people walking around, but further more, they were walking around with a large black sack. They were both holding onto each end and were slowly but surely walk to some destination.
"Follow them," Vincent whispered. They watched the two suspicious people carefully, always several hundred feet behind them. Vincent was a pro at stalking people through the streets of London.
The couple stopped a few times, they were clearly out of breath. This was the way that people behaved when they were out of shape, and unused to carrying heavy things. Like bodies. They gently set the bag down on the ground when they needed to rest as if it contained something precious and fragile. Vincent and Diederich followed them through the dark streets, hiding in the shadows. The two people walked to a bridge, carefully carrying the black sack towards a bridge. They looked back and forth, looking to make sure that nobody was watching. Clearly, they weren't looking very well because the Queen's Watchdog was watching them closely. Vincent handed a gun to Diederich. Vincent took out a second pistol and held it close to his person. They watched as the couple opened up the bag, revealing a young woman, in a white dress, flowers bedecked around her. She was already disheveled from being carried around. The woman gasped and made a cross over her chest, muttering inaudibly to himself. Vincent ran over, his gun held close to this person. Diederich followed behind him slowly. The man and woman gasped at him. Vincent had the gun pointed at the woman.
"Am I to presume that you're the one who put that poor girl in her grave?" he asked, his voice was terse and full of hatred. The girl lay there, covered with stab wounds that bled slowly into the white of her shift dress.
"Please, let us explain," the woman pleaded, looking down the girl.
"Start talking," Vincent said, the barrel touched her temple. Her husband had tears in his eyes.
"This is our daughter. She committed suicide but the church won't let us bury her with us if they knew. A few people in our area whose children have done the same thing. Their children were buried in the family plot. We saw that they had mistaken it for a murder so we did the same thing," the woman said. Her tears fell down on the corpse of her child. Her husband looked sullen and vacant, flecks of her blood were on his hands. These were not murders. These were sad, desperate parents who didn't wish for their child to be shamed after her demise. There was really nothing Vincent could not to protect them.
"So you're committing fraud?" Vincent asked. He sounded cruel and tense, but it was mostly an act. He did feel just the slightest bit of sorrow, but there was no going easy on them.
"Yes," the man said. A full confession. How easy.
"Pick the girl up, Diederich. We're taking these two to the yard. Let them handle the rest of it," Vincent said.
Diederich grimaced and pulled the sack over the girl's corpse. He picked her up easily, but was clearly bothered by the gross smell of rotting flesh, blood, and dying flowers. Nobody said being a personal corpse delivery service would be fun. Vincent had his gun pointed at the two people as he walked them all the way to the nearest station that he knew the yard was sitting. It was almost nearing dawn, it was most likely just a bit past four o clock in the morning. People had not yet awoken, so there was nobody looking onto Vincent marching them through town with his pistol in hand while the two parents sobbed. The four of them stayed silent during this solemn occasion. Vincent took no pleasure in it. This was not like shooting Druitt in the foot, or killing his father. He couldn't derive pleasure in this but it had to be done. These people were heartbroken, but this was the queen's will. The people at the yard would not be happy.
"Knock on the door," Vincent commanded the man. He knocked on it loudly. A groggy older man with ageing skin answered the door. Vincent had woken him up. Good morning inspector Randall. Wake up and smell the corpses.
"Sleeping while on the all night shift, are you, Randall?" Vincent said, sneering at Randall. He was a few years older than Vincent and gave him an attitude. Vincent gave it back with interest.
"Get your shit together, if you want to be inspector, you're doing a bloody awful job at it. Take these into questioning for the Ophelia killings and stop making me do your work for you, you pathetic son of a bitch."
"Good morning, Phantomhive," Randall said scowling at him. He sighed and took out two pairs of handcuffs from his pockets.
"You two are under arrest," Randall said. The two held out their hands willingly for him as they cried. Diederich set the girls corpse gently on the door step of the building.
"Can I have that apartment key of mine that you stole?" Diederich asked.
"No."
"Vincent, hand it over," Diederich said, holding out his hand. Vincent stared up at him defiantly. "Now."
"Why?" Vincent asked him. He knew why. Because he made an illegal copy of his key. Which didn't matter because even if he didn't have the key he could always pick the lock, or go in through the window. It honestly made not the slightest bit of difference in outcome as to whether or not.
"Because if you want to get into my home you are going to have to be polite and ask for it like everyone else."
"I think we're close enough to share keys."
"We are not."
"If I wanted to I could break in, you know."
"You try that and I'll punch you in the groin so hard your progeny will be sterile."
"Hey now. Don't go ruining things for yourself," Vincent said. Diederich glared at him. Vincent didn't want to risk it. Vincent sighed and took the key out of his pocket. He could always just break in. Or stalk him again. He placed the key in Diederich's hand.
"Thank you."
"I'm coming back later because I'm taking you out tonight. Dress nicely and take a bath because you smell like a corpse."
"Are you serious?" Diederich asked.
"I am so serious."
"I don't get a choice with you, do I?"
"Well you could, but then I wouldn't pay you..." Vincent said. He was holding Diederich's pay check for ransom and the ransom was one night out with Vincent. The location of it would not be disclosed. It didn't matter because unless Diederich liked not being paid, he'd follow Vincent wherever he went. That is what the rules were.
"You're a bastard, you know that?"
"I'm not a bastard, I just know how to get what I want out of you," Vincent said. He also knew how to manipulate the fact that Diederich was too exhausted from an all-nighter to argue with him.
Writing fanfiction gives me the chance to show my practice to the public since even my closest friends have never read whole portions of my original books. Creating art is a very private, very personal thing for me (I never create in the presence of others, it just won't happen) so it's fun to get a chance to share it. :)
