Entry 1

The morning sun warmed my face as it greeted me through my bedroom window. Birds could be heard chirping outside and the trees swayed in the breeze. The storm had passed.

I sat up and let out a yawn as I stretched. Falling back onto my pillow, I lay still for a moment. The bed in my room was delightfully comfortable and I found it most difficult to leave. I glanced around the room. It was completely decorated with vintage furnishings and had a wonderful aroma which I presumed came from the flowers on the vanity. Why was this room so elegantly decorated when there was no one before me to occupy it?

Ignoring the question that my mind presented, I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed and stretched once more, touching my toes and reaching toward the sky. After opening the window to let in the petrichor, I sat before the vanity and gazed at my reflection. It was too early for my mind to form thoughts, so I remained there, seemingly dissociated from myself.

Taking a brush from my luggage, I began detangling the knots that my long hair was prone to accumulating. Braiding was always a struggle to do on my own, so I never did so when I could avoid it. My mother would always French braid it for me to keep it from tangling when I went to school. I never understood how she achieved the particular look I liked.

I dressed myself for the day, something casual for I did not plan on going far. The pressing matter at hand was finding a place to work while I recovered. Oh. Right.

At that very moment, my leg throbbed and I winced in pain. Why did it cause me so much anguish even after it was gone?

Just as I was preparing to leave my room, I heard the door to the living room open and shut. The door that leads to the upper hallway of the Palace.

I made my way into the living room without a sign of Shirleigh. Then I noticed a wonderfully prepared breakfast atop the dining table. Beside it lay a note addressed to me from Mr. Hudson.

After I seated myself at the table, I heard a door open in the direction of my bedroom. There was a room across from mine, which I believed to be Shirleigh's. As if to confirm the thought, Shirleigh emerged from the hall dressed much more formally than I. The suit she wore was tailored flawlessly to her body and her hair curled at the ends. She carried an air of confidence but her face remained the same as it's been since I first met her; deadpan. I started to wonder what she looked like when she expressed emotions.

"Good morning," I greeted.

Shirleigh moved across the room to the coat rack to retrieve a scarf and an outer coat. She opened the door to head out, clearly with a purpose.

"Are you not going to eat? Where are you-"

The door shut behind her and I was left by my lonesome at the table. I sighed and my brows knitted together. I hoped that moving in with someone else would provide a way to keep my mind drifting but my "roommate" has yet to provide any sort of enjoyable company.

Before I started my meal, I read the letter Mr. Hudson left for me. If I had a pound for every sigh that has escaped me...

Miss Watson,

I am glad to have you with us at Victoria's Palace. Do make yourself at home, we hope you enjoy your stay with us. 

Regarding Miss Holmes, I do apologise for any difficulty that she may give you from here on out. Miss Holmes is rough around the edges as you may have noticed. She can be quite the handful and socialising does not come easily for her. I ask that you do not take any of it personally. She does not intend to harm anyone intentionally. Perhaps you could be the one to wear down that exoskeleton of hers and allow her to blossom as I feel she should.

Enjoy your breakfast and if you have any concerns, you can always find me at the front desk on the main floor.

-Hudson

My fork scraped the plate as I finished and I leaned back in my chair, satisfied. Since I was alone, I wondered what I should accomplish for the day. Finding a job should keep me occupied but I think I should thank Mr. Hudson for the meal before heading out.

I grabbed my coat and locked the door after my departure. When I approached the bottom of the stairs, I could hear Mr. Hudson's voice. It sounded as if he were on the phone with someone who was giving him trouble. He hung up and noticed my presence.

"Ah, good morning, Miss Watson," he smiled. "Did you sleep well?"

"Wonderfully, actually," I replied. "I came down to thank you for breakfast."

"Oh, it's no matter," he waved his hand to dismiss the idea. "I have been looking after Shirleigh for years. It is my pleasure to assist her and any acquaintances whenever I can."

"In your letter," I started. "You seemed to speak fondly of Shirleigh. Now I know why that is."

Mr. Hudson adjusted his glasses and folded his hands together atop the desk.

"After her parents passed," he told me. "I was the only person in her life that could care for her properly. I beg that you do not tell her that I passed such information to you. I won't hear the end of it and I have had enough draining conversations for the day."

My mind recalled the phone call a few minutes earlier.

"Who was it, if I may ask?" I inquired. "That you were speaking with on the telephone."

"Oh," he shook his head, one of his hairs falling out of place. "It is a personal affair, that's all. I do appreciate the concern."

I nodded slowly.

"Do you happen to know where she went perchance?" I asked. "Shirleigh, that is."

"I am afraid that she does not inform others of her plans nor whereabouts, not even me. I apologise."

"You mustn't apologise for everything on her behalf, Mr. Hudson."

He chuckled and the room seemed to lighten up.

"I will be heading out for a couple of hours," I informed him before leaving through the main doors. "I do have to find a way to pay you."

"Take care, Miss Watson."

Upon my exiting, I was greeted by a tall woman clad in blue carrying a briefcase. The reflection of the sunlight in her gold-rimmed glasses blinded me when I looked up at her.

"Pardon me," she excused herself and disappeared into the building I had just left.

Turning to face the world, I inhaled a breath of fresh air and steadied myself with my cane. As I wondered where to head first, I spotted a young woman handing out flyers.

When she noticed me approaching, she hurried over and greeted me with a bright smile.

"Hi there!" she said with great enthusiasm. Her hair was tied into twin ponytails and flowed behind her in the wind. Her clothing style reminded me of fashion trends from the East. Multiple charms were hanging from her bag and several pins were placed with intricacy on her jacket. The leg warmers she wore covered the tops of her large shoes and honestly looked very comfortable for the weather. "Interested in applying for the open position with the newspaper?"

"Good morning," I smiled back. "I will certainly take a flyer. I am in need for a job at the moment. I'm afraid I'm not all that proficient at writing, however."

"Oh, no worries," she told me. "Everyone starts somewhere! That's part of the journey, right?"

She handed me a flyer that provided the information of the chief editor, the details of the position, and location of the main office. I thanked her and watched as she hopped over to another passer by to potentially gain another recruit.

Wondering if I would make a sufficient enough journalist to earn a paycheck, I glanced over the flyer once more before storing it away in my bag.

»»————-　♔　————-««

After visiting the stores on the block, I returned to the Palace and found that the woman I had bumped into when I had left was still inside. She and Mr. Hudson were speaking at the front desk. Not wanting to interrupt their conversation, I slinked up the stairs and unlocked the door to the flat. I looked around but did not see any sign of Shirleigh. Figuring I still had some time before her return, I decided to call some of the shops and inquire about the work.

While I was on the phone with the chief editor of the local newspaper, I saw the doorknob to the door turn and I dropped my phone as my chair clattered to the ground.

Shirleigh had entered the room covered head to toe in dark red stains. She stopped in her tracks when she heard the chair fall over and gave me a stare as if I were the one who appeared to have committed a crime. Unable to bring myself to say anything, I stared as she vanished into the hallway to our rooms.

I reached for my phone and apologised to the editor whose confusion was noticeably audible. Hanging up the phone, I reset the chair in place and leaned on it in an attempt to gather my thoughts. Sounds of the bathroom shower could be heard and one could only think that Shirleigh was freshening up.

Was it...blood? Human blood? I shook the thought from my mind and walked over to the bookshelves that covered one of the walls of the living room. The books on the shelves were of complex, niche subjects, most of them focusing on chemical analysis. There were a few legal textbooks strewn here and there and novels of the sensational genre.

Hearing something fall to the ground behind me, I turned and watched Shirleigh move away from the living room door where a laundry bag had been thrown. Gazing at the bag, I couldn't help but think back to her appearance when she walked in.

"It was indeed the blood of a human," she said before throwing herself in one of the chairs by the fireplace.

Her head rested on one arm of the chair and her legs dangled over the other. She reached for the violin that lay on the end table beside her and began to pluck it with such force that I was afraid the strings would snap at any moment.

"How-?"

"It is written all over your face, anyone can see that," she answered. "That and I can practically hear your thoughts."

I remained in my place in front of the bookshelf and stared at the back of her chair. One of her legs swung back and forth and she shook her head as if having a conversation with herself. I wanted to ask the reason for her turning up besmeared in blood, but I figured she was so consumed in her thoughts that she wouldn't want to be bothered. My mind recalled the warning Evelyn had given me when I had first arrived about The Whitechapel Murderer. I shook the thought from my head. The murderer was a man and he only killed people after sundown. It couldn't possibly be my flatmate. Evelyn wouldn't do that to me.

"I visited Evelyn at the morgue," she told me.

"I'm sorry?"

"You want to know why I was drenched in red when I left wearing blue, yes?"

"I suppose that is one way to put it," I mumbled. "Can you actually hear my thoughts? Are you an esper?"

"Esper?" Shirleigh scoffed. "One would have to be foolish to believe in the supernatural."

I frowned.

"Evelyn?" I repeated. "Whyever was she at the morgue?"

"She works there?"

"Oh, she never informed me," I admitted. "She told me she started work but I wasn't aware it was at the morgue."

Shirleigh sat up in her chair and brought her knees up to her chest. Growing tired of standing, I shuffled over to my seemingly designated chair across from her. Her eyes were closed and brows furrowed.

"You do realise that did not really explain anything?" I stated.

Her eyes opened but she did not look at me.

"If I informed you of my preoccupations..." she trailed off and I could see that she was searching for the correct words to use. "...I am afraid of what you might think of me as a person."

"Surely it can't be worse than what I think of you as of right now," I said bluntly. "I have the right mind to say you committed a horrible act of murder and somehow waltzed down the street without being apprehended by the police."

"I did not waltz. I took a cab."

"The poor cab driver..."

Shirleigh stretched her legs and crossed one over the other. She folded her arms and her head tilted as she stared past me. That seemed to be something she did often.

"What are your opinions on murder?"

"Murder!" I exclaimed. "You are asking how I feel about ending someone else's life prematurely? You jest."

"I suppose you would not be opposed to putting a stop to them or preventing them from happening?"

I tried to make sense of the question. What was she trying to ask of me?

"Is that what you were doing?" I asked.

Shirleigh shook her head.

"Not yet," she said. "I was testing hypotheses and scenarios."

"But..." I paused. "You are attempting to catch a murderer?"

"Not attempting," she locked eyes with me. "I will catch a murderer."

I stared back at her silently, unsure of what to make of her words. I figured she wanted to chase down The Whitechapel Murderer. Something that was undoubtedly risky but something told me that this wasn't her first time doing something of this nature. There was also a part of me that admired her cockiness. I found myself wanting to experience the thrill of stalking someone dangerous and the feeling of putting an end to their treacherous ways. Realising I had spaced out, I regained my focus and saw that Shirleigh was now leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and fingers pressed together. She was looking at me with a sly but inviting smile and my heart skipped a beat.

"Would you like to try your hand at it?"