Weeks later, Yvon was sitting in his study with Louise on his lap, running his hands through her hair and kissing her gently. Her arm was creeping down his waist, when suddenly a knock came at the door. Yvon interrupted his wife and swore.

"What do you want?" the young lord snapped. Balroy opened the door and came in, carrying a silver tray.

"A letter from Her Majesty," Bard explained, handing the letter to his master.

"Goddamn it, I was going to take today off..." Yvon cursed, taking the letter, opening it, and scanning it quickly. "Sorry, baby, they need me in London."

"Aw," she whined cutely. "Can I come?"

"No! Look, I've–" He cut off, looking at her determined green eyes. "I'm not going to be able to stop you, am I?"

"Nope."

"Alright, fine. Baldroy, get a carriage ready!"

"So, who are we after?" Louise asked as the carriage began to pull into the city.

"We?" her husband answered skeptically. "There is no 'we.' You have to stay with Baldroy."

"Oh, but –"

"No buts! You said you wouldn't be helping me with any cases anymore! Besides, last time you 'helped' I ended up beheading someone and we both agree that wasn't appropriate!"

"Fine..."

"Anyway, it's a serial killer I'm after. Hardly any connection between the victims, but they were all killed in the exact same way. Scotland Yard is chasing its own tail, as usual, so I got called in to stop it." The carriage came to a stop, and Yvon saw Sir Arthur and a few police officers trying to keep the area clear. He stepped out of the carriage and took a deep breath. "Here we go," he muttered to himself. He looked up at his butler, who was driving the carriage. "Oh, and Baldroy, unless you want to be a eunuch, I suggest you keep my wife in your sight." He saluted sharply, frightened, and snapped the reins. The carriage drove away. Yvon faced back to the police commissioner, who had spotted him.

"The Earl Phantomhive," Sir Arthur greeted disdainfully.

"Sir Arthur," Yvon replied with equal distaste. "Let's not waste time. Show me the crime scene."

"That's not necessary. We have everything under control."

"Oh, of course!" Yvon shouted sarcastically, with a huge, agitated grin on his face. "Of course it is! That's exactly what this says." He held up the queen's letter and pretended to read, "'Scotland yard is perfectly capable of taking care of this themselves for once; there's no need to get involved.' That's why I dragged myself all the way out to this glorious HELLHOLE out of season: because my presence is totally unnecessary and I just like to get under your skin! But let's not kid ourselves here: I would love to be at home right now in my study with my wife on my lap reading a book to her. But I'm not, am I? So why don't you just quit trying my patience and let me do my job so that we can both get on with our lives?!"

"Alright, alright, fine," Sir Arthur agreed. "Sometimes I don't know if you're better than your brother or worse," he muttered under his breath. Yvon ignored him and proceeded to the scene of the crime. The victim's body lay mangled in a large pool of blood. Yvon studied the victim and the scene carefully before making a conclusion:

"By the look of the corps, the murderer was a butcher. The stab wounds suggest that a boning knife was used, and the limbs are severed neatly at the joint – this was no amateur." Yvon leaned in close to the victim and took a deep sniff. He also sniffed some bloody footprints leading away from the scene. "I suspect the murderer also smelt horribly of garlic and blue cheese. Judging from the smell and the footprints, I'd say he went this way." Yvon rushed off following the trail, leaving a very bewildered Sir Arthur behind him.

While Yvon was following the trail, he heard a woman scream. He began to run. Suddenly, he saw a pair of people in the alleyway. A stocky man in a bloodied apron had a young woman backed up against the wall with a long knife.

"Hey!" Yvon shouted at him. The man, who could only have been the murderer, turned, saw Yvon racing toward him, and grabbed the victim hostage-style, with his blade across her throat. Yvon flung a small knife that struck the criminal's hand. He howled in pain and dropped both the knife and the girl. The woman staggered backwards and watched as Yvon pinned the man to the wall by his throat with an impossibly strong arm. He pulled the queen's letter out of his pocket with the other hand. "Now, let's see... was I supposed to kill you or just arrest you?" The man promptly began begging for his life. "Hm... it just says, 'he must be stopped.' So I suppose the question is... Are you feeling lucky?" The man fell silent, breathing heavily. Yvon drew his sword. "You must not be very lucky. Scotland Yard didn't follow me. They would've gone easy on you. I'll try to keep it clean for the lady's sake." With that, he plunged his sword into the man's chest, killing him. He let go of both his blade and the corpse, letting both fall to the ground as he turned his attention to the woman who was still watching him with eyes filled with adrenaline and fear. "Are you alright?" Yvon asked her. "Did he hurt you?" Hesitantly, she shook her head "no." Yvon heard the sound of people running and shouting behind him. "Oh, that'll be the yard then," Yvon told the woman. "I suppose I might've waited a minute or so for them. I'm just so bloody impatient." The young lord turned to the approaching officers and pulled his bleeding sword from the corpse.

After giving a long explanation to the Yard as to why the killing was necessary, Yvon caught up with his wife at a shop.

"Yvon!" she exclaimed when she saw him, running up and giving him a hug. "You took care of it then?"

"Yes I did."

"Did you kill anyone?"

"I... no," he denied. Louise gave him a suspecting look. "Yes..."

"Yvon!" Louise sighed.

"I had to! He was going to murder another young woman!"

"There's nothing to be done for you, is there?"

"I know a few things you could do," Yvon suggested mischievously, wrapping and arm low around his wife's hips and pulling her close to him with play roughness.

"Oh! Yvon!" she exclaimed, surprised. "That's dirty."

"C'mon. Let's go home." The couple walked out of the store, but Yvon stopped, realizing something. "Louise... where's Baldroy?"

"Oh, I got rid of him!"

"What?!"

"I know it's hard for you to accept, but I'm scarier than you, Yvon."

"Well... where'd he go? He's kind of our ride home."

"I'm sure he didn't go far; there's a few bars on this street we can look through. We'll find him quickly enough!" She smiled optimistically.

"I hope so. I'd like to leave this great cesspool as quickly as possible." The couple wandered down the street aimlessly, hoping the butler would turn up to meet them. Baldroy, who had been smoking a cigarette in a nearby alley, saw the couple pass, and realized they must have been looking for him. Hoping to get their attention, he rushed out from the alleyway and grabbed his master' wrist. Yvon shouted and violently wrenched his arm out of Bard's hand, and he began to hyperventilate.

"Don't..." he muttered, his voice a higher tone than usual. Louise could tell his control was slipping.

"Yvon, are you ok?" she asked him.

"Don't let him touch me," he repeated over and over between breaths, not acknowledging his wife. His unfocused blue eyes stared off into the distance in fear.

"Don't just stand there!" Louise snapped at Baldroy. "Get the carriage!" Bardroy nodded and rushed off. Louise turned lovingly to her husband. "Yvon, it's ok," she spoke gently. "It's just me. Louise. We're going to take you home now." Yvon didn't hear her. He was trapped in a memory.