After searching around for a good ten minutes up above, George finally came across a promising specimen. It was a medium sized black box that was locked. There were no initials on it to identify the owner but George was positive this was what he was looking for. With trepidation he inserted the skeleton key into the lock. It would not fit. He tried several more times but to no avail. While he debated what to do next, someone spoke behind him, startling him badly.

"Whoever you are," said a familiar woman's voice, but in much harsher tones than he was accustomed to, "know that I am armed and not afraid to defend myself!"

From his crouched position he pivoted in her direction, hand to his chest. She held up the lantern higher from her place on the top of the attic staircase and after squinting for a second exclaimed, "Constable Crabtree! Is that you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Kitchen, it's me!" he said hastily, not in the mood to be shot at due to a case of mistaken identity.

"Forgive me!" she uttered, lowering the pistol. "I had no idea!"

"That's quite all right, ma'am!" Trying to deflect his presence here he asked, "What a lovely piece you've got there. I believe it's a Smith and Wesson?"

Kitchen nodded and then scowled. "Ever since that horrid woman held me hostage I've carried this around with me. One can never be too careful these days!" Changing gears instantly, "Pray tell boy, what are you doing up here?"

Though he had expected that he might run into someone during this search, he had failed to come up with an explanation for his presence. The attic was stifling but it was only now that he really perceived it as so and began to sweat profusely. Absentmindedly he stuck a finger in his collar in a pathetic attempt to relieve this extreme heat. The seconds ticked by and she continued to stare at him and then finally her gaze dropped to the black box in his lap.

"What's that?"

Glancing downwards, "Oh, this is um..." inspiration struck and he came up with an plausible excuse, "detective Murdoch asked me to retrieve it for him! He needs it for a case!"

Kitchen seemed surprised. "Really?" she muttered. "I didn't even know that young man had anything up here. I thought it was all just useless keep sakes from my tenants past, things that no one wanted anymore and had left behind."

"The detective is a secretive sort."

"Indeed he is. Pity."

George thought he was off the hook when she started to turn away but then she said, "How did you get into the boarding house?"

"A skel...the detective's key!"

He could have slapped himself for his almost slip up.

"But of course. How silly of me." She smiled for the first time. "Why don't you come down for dinner? I've made a lovely beef stew and there's plenty of leftovers."

George would rather be shot at than have to eat her cooking.

"That's a very generous offer, ma'am, but I'm afraid I've already eaten." Patting his stomach he said, "In fact, I'm fit to burst any moment now." This was not true but he had already lied so what was one more?

"Oh, I'm sure you could find some room in there."

"No!" he accidentally blurted out, gaining an odd look from the elderly landlady. "I mean..." holding up the surprisingly light box he said, "the detective made it quite clear that he needed this immediately."

She shook her head and said, "That young man shouldn't be working so hard the night before he is to be married. Your inspector should not have let him."

"Uh, yes, well, the detective will have plenty of time off soon enough."

"Indeed he will," she responded smiling for a second, only to have it disappear. "I don't know how I will cope with the loss of such a nice, thoughtful tenant. He's lived here for fifteen years you know. He's practically family!"

"Yes, what a shame." Half standing up, "I really must be going now, Mrs. Kitchen. Duty calls."

"Yes, yes, of course!"

Finally she descended the stairs, leaving him free to exit.


Box securely fastened to the back of his bike with rope, he headed towards the station house in order to make use of the lock cutters. Before he got there, he realized the folly of this idea. Surely there would still be a few constables present?

Since he didn't want any of his colleagues to know of his illegal activities, he instead stopped short of the precinct and after fumbling with the knot for a few seconds, brought the box and its mystery contents into the still open morgue. Most likely he would be unable to avoid running into Emily but he was okay with this outcome, so confident was he in her ability to keep his secret.

Not two steps through the northern threshold, did he find her still scratching away at some report or other that she had neglected to do until now. The idea reminded him vaguely that he was somewhat behind on his own duties. But the thought of what he might find in the black box beneath his armpit quickly evaporated any notions of rectifying this situation.

A few more steps into the morgue and she took notice of him, putting down her pen and smiling soon after. Out of instinct he returned the gesture even though the beginnings of unease were starting to accompany his improper actions.

"Constable Crabtree, to what do I owe this most prestigious of visits?"

He was a bit peeved that she still sometimes referred to him this way but he supposed it was his own fault for failing to take the initiative and consolidating their relationship in a more permanent way. As of yet he had been unable to muster the courage to kiss her even though many opportunities had presented themselves during their courtship.

In any case, that was not what he was meant to be focused on now, there were far more important matters at hand.

Continuing in the vein of formality he said, "Your rib cutters, Dr. Grace."

Interest peaked she stood up and said, "Whatever for?"

"I need them for a rather delicate matter." Her eyes dropped to the box now and lit up with that mischievous glint he knew so well.

Pointing she said, "Where did you get that box, George?"

Involuntarily he gulped. He didn't want to lie to her so he replied, "Detective Murdoch's attic."

Emily's eyebrows shot up to the point of dislocation and he felt it necessary to explain himself further. "The detective was acting very strangely today and I believe that he is experiencing the side effects of drugs." Holding the box in front of him,"And this was the only way to get down to the bottom of the matter."

Emily was flat out gaping at him. Her facial expression was pretty comical and under any other circumstance he would have laughed. Now however, the inner turmoil he had been experiencing since leaving the station house had reached a crescendo and he felt a bit sick to his stomach.

"And you thought the best course of action was to steal his private property? If you were so concerned, why not simply have an open and honest conversation with him?"

"I didn't see the point," he grumbled. "The detective was snapping at me whenever I spoke...hardly makes me a likely confidant."

"All right," she said eventually, placing a hand on his forearm, "if you felt it necessary, I trust your judgement."

"Thank you for saying that, Emily."

They were silent for a bit longer. "So, rib cutters, George?" He nodded. "You are in luck." She smiled. "I have just finished cleaning them."

Yes, lucky me.

They moved into the main viewing area. While she picked up the cutters from beside the sink, he placed the box down on the slab used for displaying bodies.

Back by his side they shared a look and she said, "Are you sure you want to do this, George? Once I cut this lock, there's no going back. You may not like what you find."

"Do it. Whatever the outcome, I need to know the truth."

I need to know that there is a logical reason for the detective's bad behaviour.

She nodded and stuck the small, pruning like shears around the handle of the lock. Using both hands she squeezed. Nothing happened. She tried again but still there was no result.

Metal was harder to cut through than ribs.

"Mind if I give it a go?"

Without a word she handed them over to him, apparently annoyed at her ineffectiveness.

George put them in place and mimicked her method. Grunting with the effort, there was finally a loud snap and the lock hung loosely in place. He pulled it out of the slot and lifted the lid. They both peered inside for several moments, frowned and then looked at one another. She was the first to break the intense silence.

"Apparently whatever is ailing the detective is not drug related."

George picked up the strange, multicoloured object and when it unfolded itself due to gravity, they were able to see that it was a bizarre piece of clothing, a one piece suit by the looks of things.

Emily touched the material and bent it inwards. "It's cold, almost like metal but it is clearly not made of metal because it is very flexible. Perhaps the detective has created a new material? Something meant for the fashion industry?"

"I hardly think he has wasted his considerable talents for the purposes of fashion, Emily. The man only owns two suits, one for work and one for church. No," he said shaking his head, "this is something else entirely."

"Well, then, George, what astonishing theory do you have to account for this?"

He didn't reply because he had just noticed something. There was a small rectangular section of the forearm that was different from the rest. He tapped the clear screen, what looked to be made of glass. "What do you make of this?"

She shrugged. "A mirror?"

"There's no reflection."

He turned it around and was met with another puzzling sight. It was silver in colour, resembled metallic teeth and ran most of the length down the back. There was a tiny handle at the top. Instinctively he pulled on it and the back of the suit split apart! Apparently this device was what allowed entrance into it!

Suddenly Emily became very animated. "Well done, George! You should try it on!"

"Excuse me?" he said a bit bemused.

"You heard me! Try it on! If nothing else, it will amuse me exceedingly!"

"I don't know..."

She grabbed his arm. "Oh come on! Where's your sense of adventure?"

Her eyes were burning brightly and he didn't want to disappoint her again as he knew he had done many times before by avoiding that fateful first kiss, so he caved. "All right...but where can I change?"

"Right here of course!"

Eyes widening, "Emily, you can't be serious! That would be highly improper!"

"I won't look, George, you have nothing to worry about. Besides," she said with a wink, "it's not as though I would see anything I haven't seen before."

He blushed.

Dead bodies, he thought after a second, that is what she is referring to...I hope...she was engaged before though...

Twirling his hand, "Turn around then. And no peeking."

She smirked at him but covered her eyes with her hands and then did as he asked.

He put the suit aside and then very quickly unbuttoned his tunic and kicked off his boots. George glanced nervously over his shoulder and saw that she was still turned around. Once he had removed the suspenders from his shoulders he hesitated a moment before dropping his pants. Though he was still wearing his long johns he had never before felt so wholly exposed and embarrassed.

George pulled the tiny handle all the way down and then stepped into the suit. As soon as both legs were in, he knew it was going to be a snug fit, too snug. But he persevered and continued to tug it on. Even with the additional layer of clothing covering his skin, the difference in temperature was astounding and he gasped slightly when it touched his most sensitive area.

"What is it?" she asked, half turning around.

"Never you mind!" he exclaimed, desperate to stop a full revolution.

Thankfully she heeded him and he let out a sigh of relief.

With a bit of effort he managed to wedge the suit past his thighs and then it was a simple enough matter to get the rest of it on, with the exception of the clasp on the back. No matter how hard he tried, he simply could not get past the half way point.

"What's taking so long?" Emily enquired, clearly losing her patience.

"I can't get this infernal thing to go up!"

"Do you want my help?"

"Yes!"

She took one look at him and burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?"

Her response was only to laugh harder.

Irritated he said, "Will you stop that and do up my back?"

Emily wiped her eyes clear and then closed the latch completely. When she came around to face him again, they got very big. He looked where she was looking and mirrored her expression. The screen on the right forearm was lit up in a bright blue hue!

After they got over this initial shock, George noticed that writing had appeared in the screen, as if by magic! It said, 'Good evening, Mr. Murdoch. What is your pleasure tonight?'

The instant this happened they both jumped and exclaimed simultaneously in their surprise.

That writing disappeared and several options replaced it. In order they were, shield, teleport, jump and exit.

He looked up at Emily who had a surprisingly calm demeanour about her.

"I wonder what teleport means?"

"I don't think we should find out!" was his ready response, heart hammering wildly. "This was locked up for a reason!"

"Where's your sense of adventure?" she said again, annoying him.

Quick as lightning she pushed the screen in that location and it changed once more.

'Use previous coordinates, 43° 42′ 0″ N, 79° 24′ 0″ W? Y/N.'

Before she could do anything else he placed his hand over the screen.

"Please George?" she beseeched of him sweetly, giving him a dose of puppy dog eyes. "Try it just this once and then you can put it away forever if you want."

"Fine!"

He hit the Y, assuming it stood for yes and nothing happened. Relief flooded over him in waves. The next second there was a faint humming sound as well as a tingling sensation spreading throughout his entire body. A mild warmth soon after accompanied this. The screen said, 'Initializing....'

Emily was staring at him with mouth ajar. It was then that he realized the whole suit was glowing in various different colours! But glow was not really the right word for this phenomenon, it was more like a shimmering in which the colours were continuously blending into one another, shifting around into different locations, faster and faster in a mesmerizing fashion until his eyes began to water and he could look no more.

By the time he blinked he found himself alone and in a forest!