A/N: Okay, I have to admit that I've been de-motivated lately for various reasons, and also very busy with university. However, I've reserved half an hour at night for writing the last couple of days, so that I wrote at least a bit :) So here comes finally a new chapter for this fic!

Chapter 4

Greg and Sara returned briefly to their hotel to take a shower and to change into fresh clothes before setting off again for the inner city. They were just in time for the tour to start and Greg looked around at the other people who were participating. They seemed to be tourists from several countries, judging from the different languages they could hear being talked around them, and Greg had to remind himself quickly that he and Sara were actually not in the city on a fun trip, although it was time now for some leisure from work.

The meeting place of the tour was at an underground exit, and Greg looked down the stairs to the dimly lit passage that led to the underground station. It was curious to imagine that the underground had already existed around the time when Jack the Ripper had haunted the city. The concepts did not seem to fit together. Greg was about to relate this thought to Sara, when the tour guide started walking and the group of people wandered after him. Sara turned around, looking at Greg expectantly.

"I'm coming," he said, and the two of them marked the end of the group. They walked a little while along the street until they stopped in front of a pub and the tour guide started telling them a story about how a suspect in the murders had worked in that pub. Greg listened curiously, wondering what they would have done at that time to investigate the case, if they had had the possibilities they had nowadays.

They continued walking along the streets, stopping from time to time when the guide would point out a certain building or place, and passing the scenes where the victims had been found. Greg looked around the places, musing whether crime scene tape had fenced off the scenes 120 years ago.

"It's odd, isn't it?" he asked Sara.

"What?" came her reply, obviously jerked out of thoughts.

"To imagine how they investigated the cases back then."

Sara nodded. "Yeah, they didn't know about DNA."

"They didn't use prints either," Greg added. "There was actually a guy who told the London police about the concept in 1886, but they didn't take it."

Sara smiled. "Did you stay up late last night and read about forensic history?"

Many streets and stops later, the group halted at Millers Court and the guide passed around photographs of the room in which one of the victims had been murdered. Greg did not feel comfortable, imagining anybody would do such a tour in Las Vegas, handing around crime scene pictures they had taken, even though the photos of the guide did not show any signs of the murder itself.

They had reached the end of the tour and Greg listened to the guide closely, who was talking about theories as to the real identity of Jack the Ripper. Out of the corner of his eyes Greg saw somebody handing around papers. At first he thought they were part of the tour, but then he saw people throwing the papers away, complaining that they weren't able to read them. Greg turned to them curiously, and got a closer look at one of the flyers. The similarity of the light blue paper was striking, and Greg reached out to pick it up. He looked down at the flyer in his hands, but was not able to read it either, although it seemed to be some kind of advertisement.

Sara was walking up to him now, but Greg turned away from her, looking into the direction where he had seen the person handing out the flyers. Then he saw a man spreading more of them further down the street, and Greg's steps moved him into his direction. It could be a coincidence all in all, but still it was a chance he didn't want to let pass…

"Hey," he called out to the man once he was nearer to him. "Can you tell me what's up with these flyers?" he asked, waving with the one he had picked up. The man hesitated for a moment, before he moved swiftly into the crowd of people, and had disappeared seconds later, as Greg did not even try to follow him. Greg shook his head. He couldn't start running after crooks in London off the clock, it being probably some kind of trick-roll guy, intimidated by Greg asking questions.

Greg felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see Sara looking at him questioningly.

"What's up?"

Greg shrugged. "There was this guy. He handed out flyers," he held up his again. "I think I've seen the same type of flyer at the scene today, so I thought I'd give it a try, but the guy ran."

Sara took the paper out of his hand and looked at it equally puzzled as he did. "Can you read this?" she asked.

"Nope," Greg returned.

"Isn't it Norwegian?" Sara asked with a smile.

"It's not," Greg said, straining to see the words on the paper in Sara's hands again to make sure he was stating the right thing. "And I don't think I'd be able to read it either," he added, blushing slightly.

"Ah, I was just teasing you, you know. They can translate it at the station and see whether it's of any importance."

Greg nodded, and packed the paper. "Let's go home."

"To the hotel," Sara corrected him.

"Anyway," he shrugged. "I'm sharing a room with you." He grinned and Sara laughed. "Was it spooky?" Greg asked. "The tour?"

Sara shook her head. "No, not really. I don't think there's a lot that could shock us."

"True." Greg stopped to look at the old buildings in front of them. "We can't do anything like that in Vegas though. When Jack the Ripper walked around here, Vegas was just a lot of desert."

They walked along the street calmly, and a few minutes later Sara was just about to step down the stairs to the underground station, when Greg was suddenly gone. She turned around, looking for him, but she could not make him out anywhere. There were not many people around anymore at this time of night so she did not think he was just lost somewhere in the masses.

Sara walked down to the underground station, wondering whether Greg had already gone down there. She could not really imagine how she would have missed that, as he had been right next to her, but it was still worth a look. She did not find him anywhere near the entrance though, but caught sight of the kiosk that seemed to be open twenty-four hours. A few minutes later she came out of it, carrying a paper cup of coffee. She climbed up the stairs out onto the street again, waiting there and drinking her coffee. It did not take very long until she saw Greg walking up to her.

Sara took another sip from her coffee. Greg stopped in front of her, while she only looked at him, seeing that he was shuddering slightly in the cold night air.

"You're not going to be able to sleep," he said.

"Oh, I'm going to sleep alright," Sara returned, knowing she was probably right. Greg stepped next to her and laid an arm around her waist.

"You didn't even ask where I was," he stated simply, looking ahead, before he glanced back at her cup of coffee.

"Well…," she started, emptying the rest of her drink. "I figured you just wanted to spook me."

Greg looked at her taken aback. "No, I didn't." He shook his head. "I mean, I'd make a joke and everything, but I wouldn't just walk out on you…"

"Actually you did."

"Uh, yeah," Greg admitted. "I saw more of these," he paused, holding up more of the light blue flyers they had seen during the tour. He let them sink. "Are you mad?" He couldn't deny that Sara looked slightly miffed.

"No, not really." She shook her head. "You didn't get any coffee though."

"I don't think I'd enjoy it that much," Greg replied, looking at the paper cup doubtfully.

Sara moved away from his touch, throwing the cup into a trash can. "Let's go, loser."

Greg walked after her, but didn't say anything. Once they had reached the underground platform, waiting for the right train to come, Sara turned to him.

"You're quiet."

"Yeah," Greg almost shrugged. With a glance to the board announcing the train departures, Sara went to sit down at the nearest bench and Greg followed her. Once Greg had sat down next to her, Sara leaned in to him and kissed him, holding his shoulders and pulling him closer to her.

She let go of him and Greg looked at her with an insecure grin. "I guess that means you're not mad."

She shook her head.

"Unless you have strange ways to show me that," Greg added.

TBC