So, the next part in the first story!
Just to clarify, however: there is no time travel or aliens in this world. It's as realistic as I can get it (I mean, I'm no expert on the Victorian Era sooo). Sorry to anyone who may have been looking forward to that.
The sun was shining high the next morning, though it had to fight through layers of fog to get its light to the citizens of London. As it was, they barely noticed it, and many just continued on their way through the thick mist. The Doctor was one of these people, except that he was in fact aware of the bright sun overhead. Perhaps the fog would clear later, he mused, though that was unlikely.
His hands stuck in his pockets, and wearing an old brown overcoat, the Doctor looked more like a grown street urchin than the famous detective he reportedly was. But he preferred things that way- things were surprisingly easier for him when people believed he was a low-life commoner. He whistled a merry tune as he walked, nodding at the passers-by, who ignored him. A particular building came into his view, crammed in between the other houses as was common. 21 Aickman Road, at last.
He waltzed up to the door and knocked twice, sticking his hand back in his pocket when he was done. The door was opened by a blonde woman.
"Yes?" she asked politely. "How may I help you?"
"I'm looking for Matthew Oswald. You're Sophie Owens, I presume?" He flashed her a charismatic grin.
Sophie blinked. "Er, yes. Sorry, who are you…?"
"Oh, terribly sorry. I'm the Doctor."
Her eyes widened, and she took a step back. "T-The Doctor? As in, the detective?"
"The one and only."
She hurriedly let him inside and led him to their sitting room (considerably smaller than his, but he wasn't rude enough to comment on that) and asked him to wait while she fetched Matt, who was apparently caring for the Owens' child upstairs. The Doctor settled comfortably into a chair and waited.
It only took a few minutes before Matt Oswald bounded down the stairs. He was dressed in the same manner as he was the day before, with a checkered waistcoat and a dark bow tie. He looked surprised to see the Doctor sitting there, but then again, he supposed, he had come unannounced.
"Doctor," Matt greeted hesitantly. Sophie was no longer present, as she had presumably taken over the care of her child.
"Matthew," the Doctor replied, smile as broad as ever.
Matt frowned and moved to sit across from the detective. "Matt," corrected the tutor.
"Right. Whatever."
"... Why are you here? Did you… find something already?"
"Not yet, but I would like to ask you something." The Doctor briefly summarized the points he and Martha had concluded earlier. Matt's expression grew more and more distressed.
"You think my sister's been forced into prostitution?" he asked incredulously. The Doctor held up his hands, as if to calm the hysteric man down. It actually worked, a little bit.
"It's our best theory," he explained. "Clara is most likely the latest victim in this kidnapping scheme."
"Okay…" Matt took a deep breath. "Do you have any leads?"
"Not just yet, but I'd like to investigate the spot where you said Clara disappeared: Latimer Street."
A nod. "So… You're off to do that now, then?"
"Well," the Doctor crossed his arms, "that's the thing. See, Matthew-"
"Matt."
He was ignored. "- I usually do these investigations with friends of mine. Like Martha. But the problem with this particular case are the victims' profiles."
"Martha's a pretty woman," said Matt immediately. "She could be in danger."
The Doctor appeared surprised with how quickly the tutor had caught on. He smiled. "Yes, exactly. And so my other female friend is out of the question. My male associates are not currently in London, either. So, I'd like to ask you-"
"To accompany you?" finished Matt, eyes wide.
"Precisely."
"But… I'm not a detective."
"Neither are my other friends. Even I'm not, officially."
"... Are you sure?"
"You seem like the intelligent sort. And this is better for you, anyway. You'll be right on the front lines, searching for your sister. I won't have to relate information to you because you'll be right there with me." The Doctor grinned again, though it seemed purposely persuasive this time. "So what do you say?"
"I…" Matt bit his lip. "If you think I'd be any help…"
The detective grinned in victory. "I know you will be." Then he stood up, straightening his tie. "Now then, allons-y!"
Matt translated the French phrase in his head. "Let's go? What, right now?"
He shrugged. "Unless you still have to babysit."
Since he didn't, Matt ran back upstairs to tell Sophie that he was leaving, and he grabbed his coat from his room. The newly-formed mystery-solving team was outside 21 Aickman Road in minutes. The Doctor hailed a cab to take them to Latimer Street, which was opposite the direction he'd originally come from his own home. As they clambered into the back, the driver muttering a lethargic greeting, Matt suddenly realized something.
"Hang on," he said, once the cab was now moving. "How did you find out where I lived?"
"Simple," the Doctor replied, somewhat haughtily. "You said you lived with an Owens family, and your sister's route home was nearby Latimer Street. Martha checked out home listings while I consulted a map. 21 Aickman Road was the only home by Latimer Street that had an Owens family listed as residents." He finished his spiel with a proud smile.
Matt could only stare. "That's… incredible." After a pause, "... And somewhat terrifying."
The Doctor merely gave the tutor a reassuring pat on the back. Little more was said as the cab took them from Aickman Road to Latimer Street. Once they arrived at their destination, the Doctor paid the cab driver and watched as the carriage disappeared into the early morning fog. Then, he turned to Matt.
"Ready?" he asked.
"As I'll ever be," was the weak reply. The duo began walking along the street.
"Clara's employers live just over there," Matt commented, pointing in a far-off direction. "The Maitlands."
"Private estate?" asked the Doctor. Matt nodded. "Then the house is probably behind an enclosed fence, meaning Clara has to walk quite a ways to hail a cab."
"Half a block, according to her."
"So between the Maitland house and the cab spots is where we need to start our search. Come along, Matthew."
Matt rolled his eyes, and ran a bit to catch up with the fast-paced detective. "I told you, I prefer Matt."
"And I prefer Matthew," he retorted. "Matthew is more posh."
He snorted. "I'm the farthest thing from 'posh'."
"Says the man in the bow tie."
"They look nice," he said defensively.
"And posh."
The tutor frowned, but didn't say anything more. They continued walking along Latimer Street.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Matt finally asked. "The police did check here first when I inquired about my sister."
The Doctor glowered. "How much faith do you have that they actually checked thoroughly?" Matt's silence was answer enough, though the tutor was eyeing him with curiosity concerning his tone. "Anyway, we're looking far more closely than any policeman would bother. The slightest sign of a struggle, the tiniest mark on the pavement-"
Matt halted in his tracks. "A hatpin?"
The Doctor paused thoughtfully. "Well, yes, I suppose. A hatpin. Why a hatpin?"
Matt reached forwards, grabbing the Doctor by the scruff of his collar, pulling him back to where he was standing. They'd reached a point in the road where there was an alleyway breaking up the houses, sealed off by a black iron gate. Matt walked towards the gate and knelt down, his hand brushing against the damp stone ground. He'd picked something up. The Doctor leaned over his shoulder to see what it was.
"Oh, a hatpin. Well, that's certainly something."
Matt's voice was barely above a whisper. "It's Clara's."
The Doctor was startled. "What? Are you sure?"
"Course I'm sure!" Matt stood up, his face afflicted with anger. "I bought it for her!"
"Whoa there," the Doctor said gently. "Alright, sorry. May I see it?"
Matt sighed, but deposited the hatpin into the Doctor's waiting hand.
It was a standard hatpin, around 20 centimeters in length. The pinhead itself was designed to look like a maple leaf, though it was now crushed and covered in dirt. The Doctor could see the slightest hints of gold and copper paint through the mud.
"A maple leaf?" he murmured, mostly to himself, but Matt heard him anyway.
"It was a story our parents used to tell us," he explained. "About how a maple leaf brought them together. Clara loved it, so when I saw that in a shop…"
"You bought it for her. Must have been expensive."
Matt smiled sadly. "It was worth it."
"How did a maple leaf bring your parents together?" he wondered. Matt opened his mouth to reply, but the sound that tore through the air next did not come from him. It was a scream. A decidedly female scream. And it came from the alleyway.
"What was that?" asked Matt, but by the time the question had been asked, the Doctor was already almost over the iron gate.
"Come on!" the detective cried over his shoulder.
"Bloody hell," Matt groaned. He clambered over the fence with considerably less grace than the Doctor, but he still managed to get to the other side with injuring himself. The Doctor was already off at a run, heading towards the source of the scream. Matt quickly hurried after him, keeping his hat secured to his head with one hand.
The alley was one-way, so all they had to do was follow it. But there were so many twists and turns that neither man was sure where they'd end up. Soon enough, the alley opened back into a street, and luckily, there was no gate to climb over. The Doctor's eyes dashed about madly, searching for a clue, when they landed on a small gathering of people nearby a tree in a park across the street. "There!" he exclaimed. He and Matt crossed the street, and pushed through the crowd of rather distressed-looking citizens. One young woman had even fainted into a young man's arms. It was not hard to see why. When the crowd finally parted for them, they saw the most horrific sight.
Nailed to the tree, completely stripped bare of any clothing, was a female body. Blood, dried and fresh alike stained her skin, and a mottled pattern of bruises dotted her neck and wrists. But worst of all, the poor woman's head was no where to be seen. The jagged line of her neck was the only indication that she'd ever had one.
Matt's hand flew to his mouth, desperately trying not to retch at the sight. The Doctor looked equally perturbed, but he regained his senses faster than his companion. He turned around, dug into his pocket, and pulled out a policeman's badge.
"Scotland Yard!" he shouted over the din of the crowd. He flashed the badge to everyone. "Everyone, stand back!"
They did as he said, and some looked relieved to see that an official was on the job. The Doctor tucked the badge back where it came from and turned to Matt, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You alright?"
He stuttered wordlessly for a while before he found his voice. "I-It's not… God, please, tell me that's not…"
The Doctor glanced at the body. "How tall is Clara?" he asked. Matt stared at him. "How tall?" he repeated, with a far harsher tone.
"I-... Shorter than me... ?"
Another glance at the body. "That's not Clara."
"What? How do you-?"
"She's too tall. Six feet at least."
Matt felt a sickening sense of relief, which was quickly replaced with full revulsion. Even though he was glad it wasn't Clara, some poor woman was still dead, her body displayed like some grotesque art show. "Might be one of the other girls," he heard the Doctor murmur. Matt tore his eyes away from the girl and paced around the tree. The Doctor could 'examine' the body all he wanted. Matt just couldn't look at it anymore.
His foot knocked into something; he looked down at it. It was a doll… Or at least part of one. Much like the girl, the doll's head was missing. Ignoring the immediate dread he felt, Matt picked up the disfigured toy to examine it further. Its extremities, like the hands and the feet, were made of porcelain, while the body was a softer leather, and it wore a purple silk dress, which was embroidered with silver embellishments. Its feet were decorated with painted-on slippers. Even its tiny hands had lace gloves. But driven through the wrists of the doll were small pins, not unlike the nails holding the real girl to the tree. Matt swallowed the rising bile in his throat and forced himself to speak.
"Doctor!" he called out. The detective's head poked around the side of the tree.
"What?"
He held up the doll. The Doctor walked over to him, allowing Matt to give him the macabre toy.
"Interesting…" he muttered. "Some sort of message, maybe? Or a clue left by the killer? It definitely looks like a collector's piece. What do you make of it, Matthew?"
"I think it's bloody disgusting," he spat. "Can we… Can we leave, please?"
The Doctor eyed him with understanding. "Yeah, of course. The real Scotland Yard will be here soon anyway. They don't usually like it when I pretend to be them." He looked down at the doll. "Besides, I know someone who can make better sense of this thing than me. Come on."
With one hand still holding their newly-acquired evidence, the Doctor used his other hand to gently push Matt away from the crime scene. The crowd of observers parted respectfully for the man they still thought of as an officer, and he only nodded at them. He didn't take particular notice of any of them, and so he failed to see the young woman near the front, who, though she was already pale and trembling, almost fainted at the sight of the doll in his hand. This woman turned and ran from the scene, but no one even noticed her leave.
After calling another cab, the Doctor and Matt were off once again in search of answers. Matt was distressingly quiet for most of the ride, but the Doctor knew why.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he risked asking.
The question seemed to startle Matt. "I… I don't know."
"You know…" The Doctor took a deep breath, then exhaled it. "You don't… have to do this. I don't want to make you uncomfortable-"
At that, Matt scoffed. "Uncomfortable? Bloody traumatized is more like it." The Doctor flinched with guilt, an action not unnoticed by the tutor. "But… No, I need to do this. I need to find Clara, now more than ever." His jaw was set with admirable determination. "If that poor girl was connected to the disappearances at all, then my sister is in more danger than I thought. And… And even if she's not, someone needs to find justice for that girl."
The detective stared at his companion for a long time before his features settled into a relieved smile. "Well said, Matthew," was all he said in reply.
Matt looked away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "... Where are we going? You never said."
"Friend of mine runs an antique shop. I figure he'll be able to tell us more about the doll and its origins."
"You've got an awful lot of friends."
"All the better to solve crimes with," he grinned. Matt rolled his eyes, and the cab continued towards their unknown- at least to the tutor- destination.
Soon enough, a quaint little shop came into view; Noble Antiques was painted on the shop's sign in elegant writing. The Doctor and Matt stepped out of the cab and went inside, senses immediately barraged with the smells of brick, parchment, and tea. The inside of the shop was filled from head to toe with various objects, ranging from old pottery to dusty furniture. It was reminiscent of the Doctor's house. Except, Matt noticed, there was an impressive number of porcelain dolls lain throughout the store.
An old man was sat at the front desk near the register, though instead of looking like an attentive shopkeeper, he was sipping idly at a cup of tea while reading a book. He didn't even appear to notice the two new customers that had walked into the store.
The Doctor beamed at the sight of the old man, and walked through the cluttered shop with ease. Then again, he was probably used to stepping around things. Matt walked with more caution.
"Wilfred!" the Doctor called, which caused the old man to jump.
The man, after recovering from his shock, narrowed his eyes. "David? Is that you?"
"Good to see you, Wilf!" The Doctor and the man, Wilfred, both laughed with delight as they shook each others' hands, like a pair of old friends finally reunited. "How's business?" the detective asked conversationally.
"Oh, you know," Wilfred shrugged. "Same as usual. What can I do for you? Are you here to see Donna? Cause she's out right now-"
"No no, it's you I actually wanted to talk to." The Doctor turned around and beckoned Matt to come closer. He did so, but with a small amount of trepidation. "This is Matthew Oswald, a new client of mine. Matthew, this is Wilfred Mott."
"Lovely to meet you," Matt said politely, shaking Wilfred's offered hand. Wilfred smiled at the young man.
"And you. A client, eh? What sort of trouble have you got?"
Matt glanced at the Doctor quickly. "It's a bit complicated. But basically, the Doctor is helping me find my sister."
Wilfred nodded his understanding. "He'll get the job done, I can tell you that much. He's brilliant- helped out my family more times than I can count! Why, my granddaughter-!"
"Right," interjected the Doctor, who for the first time since Matt met him, looked embarrassed.
"But in order to find Matthew's sister, we need to find out where this," he produced the doll from seemingly nowhere, "came from." He looked back over to Matt. "Wilf's been running this store for years. If anyone knows anything about antiques, it's him."
Ignoring the praise, the old shopkeeper stared at the doll. "Where's the head?"
"Long story. Can it still tell us anything important without the head?"
"Well, it's expensive. Worth more than any of the dolls I've got here." He tapped on the porcelain hands. "Looks like a Parian doll."
"Parian?" echoed Matt.
"They're called that cause they look like some type of fancy Greek marble. These dolls aren't for kids, though. They're used for decoration. You know, aristocat homes and the like." Wilfred looked at the beheaded doll and frowned. "But I don't see any use for a headless one. What happened to it?"
"Really Wilf, we don't know. But it's all a part of the mystery." The Doctor picked up the doll. "Alright, so it's an expensive doll. What does that tell us?"
"Whoever's behind all this is rich?" shrugged Matt. "Or at least has expensive taste. You wouldn't waste an item like that unless you could spare it."
"Right-o, Matthew. We should head back to Tardis Street and start looking at city maps for places that fit that description."
"We should?" Matt raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Come on, let's go." The Doctor grinned at Wilfred once more. "Thanks for the help, Wilf. Tell Donna I said hello."
"Any time, David. And it was a pleasure meeting you, Matthew."
Matt smiled at the shopkeeper, and didn't bother correcting him about his name. As much as it bothered him when the Doctor did it, Wilfred genuinely didn't know that he preferred Matt. So he merely let the Doctor lead him back outside, while Wilfred went back to his tea and reading.
"I still don't understand," the tutor said as they got into another cab, "Why a doll?"
"It's a practice of some brothels," answered the Doctor. "The doll is supposed to represent a girl. Customers take the doll of the girl they want and… you know. Spend the night with them. It lets other customers know who's taken for the night and who isn't."
Matt made a face. "That's horrific."
"Exactly."
The cab began a slow trot back to Tardis Street, and both men were silent for the duration of the ride, contemplating the new horror they'd gotten themselves into.
As always, please tell me what you think!