AN: Well. Have been kicking this idea around in my head for years and every attempt I've made to write it has been utterly awful. Hopefully this is less awful, but I can make absolutely no guarantees. That said, I've self edited this to the best of my abilities, but I'm notoriously bad at such things, so please, please, please, if anyone is interested in sacrificing their free time to beta for me I'd love them forever and make them cookies. Or something. You can reach me at GoblinQueenie on AIM and YIM, or goblinqueenie at gmail dot com.
Chapter One
It was promising to be a temperate autumn day: the humidity had relinquished it's soul sucking peaks it had reached in summer and the weathermen promised the dreary cold rain and ice of winter was still far off.
Despite the lovely weather, the two figures seated at one of the prized window tables of the coffee shop didn't seem to be enjoying the sunlight pooling on the wooden table top, making the spoon in one coffee cup gleam.
"Know what, Torres?" the young man began gamely, peeling back the paper wrapper of his muffin.
"Hang on I'm thinking," the woman replied, tapping a random rhythm on the tabletop with her stylus. "Look at this," she said, drawing on her tablet before handing it to her partner.
"A pentagram. Isn't that a bit of a stretch from the three points you have here? Besides, doesn't fit the profile."
"Humor me, Angel."
"I'll look into it, but we're short warm bodies to pull that sort of surveillance."
"You say this like I don't know it. Bah. Our Mephistopheles is making my brain hurt."
"As I was saying, before you interrupted with this brainwave-"
"It's worth looking into, Angel. It's not like we have any good leads. It might be a stretch, but-"
"I already agreed. I'll run it by the profilers when we get in, but I'm telling you – what you should already know, by the way - that it doesn't fit the profile. It may be a neat pattern, but look at two of the points," he paused and tapped on the tablet before handing it back to her. "Too close to places where he might be caught. I mean, one's in the zoo, for Pete's sake. That's not our perp."
"Not yet. But I think he's like most ritualistic killers. Think back to good old Jack. Safe and easy targets at first and then that bold and hideous progression. I think it does fit the profile. He's smart and by doing his dirty deeds in risky places he'll prove that he's smarter than us.
"Speaking of Old Jack," Angel said, voice full of portent.
Torres cut him off, dark eyes narrowed in irritation. "I know what you're going to say, you know what my response will be, we know the argument that will follow it. So, can we skip it and get back to the case at hand, please?"
Her partner sighed. "There's news. They're doing it anyway and if we get on board now then we have a real shot at having first crack at them."
"It may be your idea of a good time to hand hold two Victorians while we try and catch this whack-job, but it's not mine."
"Not just any two Victorians, Torres," he said. "The two Victorians. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. The greatest detectives in history. Holmes and Watson! How can you pass that up?"
"Naïveté is hardly charming in cops, Angel."
"Nice."
"I'm not your partner 'cause I'm nice."
"Let's get going," he said with another sigh. "I'll get two to go, if you want to go on ahead."
"All right, thanks," she said, packing her things and slinging a uni-strap back pack over her shoulders. "Jaa."
"Jaa."
AN: I know, I know, Holmes and Watson in the future. It's a bit tired, but I couldn't resist. Hope you enjoyed and please tell me what you think. Constructive criticism most welcome.