storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2008-12-15 04:37 pm
storypaint) wrote2008-12-15 04:37 pm
From Hell (Layton gen)
Title: From Hell
Comm: defeating the purpose of the Professor Layton (Anon) Fan Meme
Prompt: The Professor investigating the Jack the Ripper case and trying to keep Luke out of it.
Series: Professor Layton
Character/Pairing: Layton and Luke gen
Rating: PG-13 for blood, offscreen death, too much history
Wordcount: 912 words
Excerpt: Layton pushed Luke behind hm as they approached the yard. A group of policemen were crowded around a person lying on the ground, their lanterns lifted high, but they didn't appear to be making any attempts to help her.
Luke wasn't allowed in Whitechapel after dark. It was, in any case, somplace true gentlemen avoided, the professor told him, full of painted ladies and men with questionable morals.
"But why are you going, then?" Luke asked as he watched his mentor pull on his boots. The candle lit the room enough for Luke to question the worried expression on Layton's face. It made his heart pound in anxiety.
"Luke, please go back to bed," Layton said, his voice empty of his trademark calm. "This is not an investigation for you."
"But why, Professor? It's one-thirty in the morning..." Luke shuffled in concern, looking down at his feet. He wanted to rush around and find his shoes and coat. He'd been woken by the shrill sound of the seldom-used telephone in the front room, and that had been surprise enough. The professor hated to break routine; he never went out at this hour.
This was a very special mystery, and Laytone wouldn't be able to solve it without his apprentice, Luke thought.
"Luke, please. Stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can."
The professor paused with his hand on the doorframe.
"If someone knocks, don't answer it. You hear me?"
"Professor?"
"You hear, my boy?" the professor said, his face fierce in the candlelight. Luke gulped.
"Yes, Professor," he replied.
The door slammed heavily, blowing out the candle. Luke could hear the professor rush down the street, his feet slapping the puddles of the evening rain.
Luke shivered in the dark and lit the candle again.
*
He didn't catch up with the professor until the man was on the outskirts of Whitechapel. He barreled straight into the tall man, too scared to appear casual, like he had planned to. There were certainly sights to be seen here and he had received a swift street education as he hurried down the dark road. It wasn't a good one. He'd run straight into another top-hatted man before he'd caught up with the professor, captured in the stranger's large hands and sent on his way with a bare grunt of acknowledgment.
"I'm sorry!" Luke called over his shoulder before he began running again.
The professor jumped in surprise when Luke bumped him. He looked down at his apprentice, his eyes narrowing.
"Luke, I believe I told you to stay at home."
"Professor, you need me..." Luke said, trailing off as Layton's anger became more visible in the lamplight. The professor was fuming. Before he could begin to berate the boy, a policeman rushed up to the pair.
"Layton, you're here, thank goodness. The body--"
The man paused, pointing at Luke. "Who's this?"
"My apprentice, who is in a great deal of trouble," Layton said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand.
"Luke," the boy mumbled.
"Should he see...?"
"He wanted to come."
Nevertheless, Layton pushed Luke behind hm as they approached the yard. A group of policemen were crowded around a person lying on the ground, their lanterns lifted high, but they didn't appear to be making any attempts to help her.
Luke choked. The smell of horse and blood was harsh in his nostrils. Layton's grip on his hand tightened.
"I don't want him to see this," Layton said to the policeman, and the man nodded. He leaned down on his haunches and looked at Luke, his gaze kind.
"I've got a boy your age," he said. "Stand with me a bit while Detective Layton talks to the police?"
"He's a professor, not a detective," Luke said in a small voice, but he stood there with the policeman while Layton conferred with the others. He didn't want to watch his mentor lean over the girl, didn't want to think about the dark puddle bleeding into her hair. He told the policeman puzzles instead.
After an agonizing half-hour, Layton watched back to them, his steps heavy. He looked at the policeman, removing his hat for a moment and shaking his head.
"A tricky bugger, ain't he?" the policeman said. Layton nodded and replaced his hat.
"I have some theories..." He sighed. "Only theories at the moment, however."
The walk back to Layton's home was utterly silent. Luke kept his head down, staring at the cobbles, while Layton held tight to his hand. Still, the man didn't complain when Luke crawled into bed next to him. Their sleep was slow to come, uneasy.
Luke woke early, to the ringing of the telephone. The professor was grim when he answered.
"Layton here."
Luke heard the growl of the other speaker and then Layton's eyes widened with shock. He nearly dropped the phone.
"Another last night?"
The very thought made Luke want to throw up again. He felt like he could smell it again, horse sweat and blood and excrement... His gorge rose and he leaned over the edge of the bed, putting a hand over his mouth. His movements attracted Layton's attention.
"Luke?"
The professor's eyes widened and this time he did drop the phone, tripping over the bedside table to get to his apprentice and grabbing his shirt. They'd both slept in their clothes, too tired to change.
"Luke, whose hand?"
Luke looked down at his white shirt, stained by a large copper handprint, and remembered the tall man whom he'd knocked into, remembered the man picking him up, and...
He fainted, sagging in Layton's grip.
"Layton? Layton?" the phone spoke tinnily, but Layton could only stare at his apprentice's shirt.
*END
Author's Note: All information gathered from research on Google, Casebook.org, and Wikipedia, especially the Jack the Ripper article. The setting for this evening is 30 September 1888, the night of the "Double Event," the murder of both Elizabeth Stride (when Layton is called to the scene) and later Catharine Eddowes (the subject of Layton's second phone call). Sources suggest poor weather conditions that night and that Stride's murder was possibly interrupted, leading to the later murder of Eddowes.
Comm: defeating the purpose of the Professor Layton (Anon) Fan Meme
Prompt: The Professor investigating the Jack the Ripper case and trying to keep Luke out of it.
Series: Professor Layton
Character/Pairing: Layton and Luke gen
Rating: PG-13 for blood, offscreen death, too much history
Wordcount: 912 words
Excerpt: Layton pushed Luke behind hm as they approached the yard. A group of policemen were crowded around a person lying on the ground, their lanterns lifted high, but they didn't appear to be making any attempts to help her.
Luke wasn't allowed in Whitechapel after dark. It was, in any case, somplace true gentlemen avoided, the professor told him, full of painted ladies and men with questionable morals.
"But why are you going, then?" Luke asked as he watched his mentor pull on his boots. The candle lit the room enough for Luke to question the worried expression on Layton's face. It made his heart pound in anxiety.
"Luke, please go back to bed," Layton said, his voice empty of his trademark calm. "This is not an investigation for you."
"But why, Professor? It's one-thirty in the morning..." Luke shuffled in concern, looking down at his feet. He wanted to rush around and find his shoes and coat. He'd been woken by the shrill sound of the seldom-used telephone in the front room, and that had been surprise enough. The professor hated to break routine; he never went out at this hour.
This was a very special mystery, and Laytone wouldn't be able to solve it without his apprentice, Luke thought.
"Luke, please. Stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can."
The professor paused with his hand on the doorframe.
"If someone knocks, don't answer it. You hear me?"
"Professor?"
"You hear, my boy?" the professor said, his face fierce in the candlelight. Luke gulped.
"Yes, Professor," he replied.
The door slammed heavily, blowing out the candle. Luke could hear the professor rush down the street, his feet slapping the puddles of the evening rain.
Luke shivered in the dark and lit the candle again.
*
He didn't catch up with the professor until the man was on the outskirts of Whitechapel. He barreled straight into the tall man, too scared to appear casual, like he had planned to. There were certainly sights to be seen here and he had received a swift street education as he hurried down the dark road. It wasn't a good one. He'd run straight into another top-hatted man before he'd caught up with the professor, captured in the stranger's large hands and sent on his way with a bare grunt of acknowledgment.
"I'm sorry!" Luke called over his shoulder before he began running again.
The professor jumped in surprise when Luke bumped him. He looked down at his apprentice, his eyes narrowing.
"Luke, I believe I told you to stay at home."
"Professor, you need me..." Luke said, trailing off as Layton's anger became more visible in the lamplight. The professor was fuming. Before he could begin to berate the boy, a policeman rushed up to the pair.
"Layton, you're here, thank goodness. The body--"
The man paused, pointing at Luke. "Who's this?"
"My apprentice, who is in a great deal of trouble," Layton said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand.
"Luke," the boy mumbled.
"Should he see...?"
"He wanted to come."
Nevertheless, Layton pushed Luke behind hm as they approached the yard. A group of policemen were crowded around a person lying on the ground, their lanterns lifted high, but they didn't appear to be making any attempts to help her.
Luke choked. The smell of horse and blood was harsh in his nostrils. Layton's grip on his hand tightened.
"I don't want him to see this," Layton said to the policeman, and the man nodded. He leaned down on his haunches and looked at Luke, his gaze kind.
"I've got a boy your age," he said. "Stand with me a bit while Detective Layton talks to the police?"
"He's a professor, not a detective," Luke said in a small voice, but he stood there with the policeman while Layton conferred with the others. He didn't want to watch his mentor lean over the girl, didn't want to think about the dark puddle bleeding into her hair. He told the policeman puzzles instead.
After an agonizing half-hour, Layton watched back to them, his steps heavy. He looked at the policeman, removing his hat for a moment and shaking his head.
"A tricky bugger, ain't he?" the policeman said. Layton nodded and replaced his hat.
"I have some theories..." He sighed. "Only theories at the moment, however."
The walk back to Layton's home was utterly silent. Luke kept his head down, staring at the cobbles, while Layton held tight to his hand. Still, the man didn't complain when Luke crawled into bed next to him. Their sleep was slow to come, uneasy.
Luke woke early, to the ringing of the telephone. The professor was grim when he answered.
"Layton here."
Luke heard the growl of the other speaker and then Layton's eyes widened with shock. He nearly dropped the phone.
"Another last night?"
The very thought made Luke want to throw up again. He felt like he could smell it again, horse sweat and blood and excrement... His gorge rose and he leaned over the edge of the bed, putting a hand over his mouth. His movements attracted Layton's attention.
"Luke?"
The professor's eyes widened and this time he did drop the phone, tripping over the bedside table to get to his apprentice and grabbing his shirt. They'd both slept in their clothes, too tired to change.
"Luke, whose hand?"
Luke looked down at his white shirt, stained by a large copper handprint, and remembered the tall man whom he'd knocked into, remembered the man picking him up, and...
He fainted, sagging in Layton's grip.
"Layton? Layton?" the phone spoke tinnily, but Layton could only stare at his apprentice's shirt.
*END
Author's Note: All information gathered from research on Google, Casebook.org, and Wikipedia, especially the Jack the Ripper article. The setting for this evening is 30 September 1888, the night of the "Double Event," the murder of both Elizabeth Stride (when Layton is called to the scene) and later Catharine Eddowes (the subject of Layton's second phone call). Sources suggest poor weather conditions that night and that Stride's murder was possibly interrupted, leading to the later murder of Eddowes.
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