Disclaimer: Anything that looks new is mine. Everything else I don't own, and never will.
A/N A new story. I was just watching the movie, and this one hit me. It just had to come out. I have not abandoned Crookshanks's Bane, but now with two stories, updating might not be so regular. See note in Chapter one of Crookshanks's Bane for more info on that. But anyway, enjoy this story!
Fagin stared down the dark street. It was only him and the mice out tonight. And of that he was doubtful. It was too quiet for mice. This stillness seemed unnatural to him. And quite frankly, it scared him a little bit.
He was supposed to be meeting some new jewel thief tonight, someone who called himself The Sidecar. Whether the name referred to the drink or the locomotive he was unsure, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that the note said to meet him here an hour ago, and he still hadn't shown his face. At least Bill was on time for every meeting.
It most definitely had been from a thief. None of the coppers could have known the communal signature the local thieves did. What worried Fagin, however, was that he had been found so easily. Was it really that easy to find him? Was he that obvious a thief?
Well, an hour was an hour. Which was more then enough for Fagin. Muttering angrily to himself, he headed off to Lydia's. He needed something to calm himself.
Lydia was an older woman who ran the Horse Run bar, a rowdy hang out for third class London residents. She had once been a first class citizen, but was orphaned at sixteen after her father died. Considering her circumstances, she had done quite well for herself. Her mother had died in childbirth with her sister Eloise, who in turn had been born quite ill. After their father died, Lydia discovered that even though she had led a privileged life, her father had owed many debts that he couldn't pay. Lydia was forced to sell her house and onto the streets with her sick younger sister. This turned her to petty thievery until she had saved enough to open this bar, and then later to buy the rest of the building. It was in this building where Eloise died several years later. Nobody knew why Lydia kept the entire building. She didn't rent it out, and it was much to large for one person. But she had earned enough respect from her customers that they didn't ask questions.
Fagin stormed into the bar, still annoyed that this anonymous thief stood him up. He dropped himself in front of the bar, where Lydia was serving another man a gin.
"Evening Lydia" He muttered. She turned to him.
"The usual, Fagin?" She asked, expecting his order of a strong gin.
"Make it a double to night, my dear." Fagin answered. Lydia raised one eyebrow.
"Rough night?"
"A stand up. No sense of dignity. I waited for an hour."
"What happened, Fagin?" Lydia asked, pushing him his requested drink.
"I don't think I can trust you with the details, my dear." Fagin said, taking swig of his drink.
"Fagin, you've already told me too much. You've got me interested. It's my bar, my rules. Spill it, or I'll have Eliza throw you out." Fagin narrowed his eyes.
"Oh, you've got some nerve. Fine then. Two nights ago, when I came in here, I ordered a drink and when the barmaid brought it, a note came with it."
"What did it say?"
"It was a note from some jewel thief, telling me to meet him on Black Street at eleven tonight. It had the thief signature on it, so it wasn't from the coppers, but he was a no-show."
Lydia looked perplexed.
"Which barmaid?" Fagin looked at her over his gin.
"Do I have to?"
"Eliza is right over there, Fagin."
"It was Aggie."
"I'll have a word with her, maybe she'll tell me where she got the note."
"Thank you, my dear. If I may say so, you're looking lovely tonight."
"Piss off, Fagin. I'm not a barmaid, and I never was. I have other customers to serve." And with that, she stormed away, and took the order of another man at the bar.
Finally, it was closing time. Lydia and her assistant bartender, Eliza, threw the last drunkard out and started to head upstairs with the barmaids, but held back.
"Aggie! I want to talk to you." The tallest of the barmaids turned around.
"About what?" The rest of the barmaids turned around, wanting to hear the conversation.
"I want to talk to Aggie. The rest of you, to bed. Now!" The rest of the barmaids ran up the stairs, not wishing to get on Lydia's bad side.
After making sure that every barmaid had indeed run upstairs, Lydia turned to Aggie.
"Who's this mysterious jewel thief that you gave a note to Fagin from?" Lydia asked smartly. Aggie scowled, and pulled some long jeweled chains from her bodice and handed them to Lydia.
"I got these the other day. I was going to meet Fagin the other day, but with Martha sick, I had to work tonight. There was no time to send him another note."
"Agatha, you know that as one of my barmaids, you are past the stealing age. I'll let it slide this time, but anymore of this and I'll have no choice but to fire you. It's your choice. You are seventeen now, and you came to me as a nine year old. You know the rules by now, and I expect you to follow them. Understood?" Aggie nodded. "Good. Now up to bed with you."
As Aggie ran up the stairs, Lydia shook her head. She hadn't had this much trouble with any of her girls since Nancy.