Entry 3

The silence was all that accompanied us as we sat in the dark lobby of Victoria's Palace.

Shirleigh bent her leg creating a sort of barrier between the two of us. She drummed her knees with her fingers. The way she fidgeted began to worry me. It was almost as though she had pent-up energy as if we didn't just run miles down the street. That said, I felt that I could run a marathon at this very moment. I thought that maybe she was thinking about her encounter with the culprit in the alley but from the short time I have spent with her, this was not how she normally portrayed concentration.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

She opened her mouth to speak but when she looked at me, she stopped herself. Instead, she turned to face the wall by the staircase, her back now facing me.

"I must confess something," she said.

"What is it?" I questioned. "Is something wrong?"

"The reason for me bringing you along tonight," she started. "Was so that you would leave me be after seeing the potential dangers I am involved with..."

Her sentence trailed off like a child who their mother had chastised. She sighed as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and turned her attention to the front desk, allowing a view of her profile as she did her best not to look in my direction.

Not only was I slightly hurt by her words, I couldn't help but think how ridiculous her logic was. For how smart she truly is, her people skills are most certainly lacking. Perhaps it is because she prefers to be alone. If we were mere strangers passing one another on the street, I wouldn't pay her much mind. However, we live together now and if there is anyone she needs to communicate more with, it would be me. Shirleigh isolates herself and is more than likely keeping way more things to herself than she should. Mr. Hudson asked me to break this shell of hers and I intend to do so.

"Well..." I began. "What do we do now?"

It was quiet for a few long seconds. She turned to look at me and a somewhat confused expression was plastered on her face.

"The culprit-"

"Evelyn," Shirleigh reminded me.

"Right..." I said. "I am certain she saw me. We made eye contact."

Shirleigh stared at me blankly.

"I thought you would be cross," she stated.

"Hm? Cross? About Evelyn?" I wondered. "I'm not angry at her. If anything, I feel...betrayed, perhaps."

"No," Shirleigh shook her head. "Not about Evelyn, about...what I did..."

"Oh!" I covered my mouth, realising I had been a tad too loud. "Why would I be cross with you? Sure, the logic behind your actions was preposterous, but you were honest about it all in the end. That's all that matters."

She looked at the ground and I assumed she was processing what I had said. She then turned her attention to the chandelier that gently swayed from the ceiling.

"Although, we do have to work on how you go about things," I stated. "Not everyone is going to accept joining you on an adventure to catch a murderer, especially as your way of saying 'leave me alone'."

Shirleigh let out a huff resembling one of those laughs that people didn't want you to know was such.

We sat in the dark for just a bit longer before returning to our flat.

"We will stay here for the night," Shireigh said, letting down her hair. "As long as we're here, she won't be able to touch us."

"Is there a reason why that is?" I asked.

Shirleigh remained silent.

"You will be fine," she told me.

"Was that supposed to reassure me?"

"It is more for my reassurance."

I planted my hands on my hips and watched as she kicked off her shoes. She started for her bedroom before turning to face me.

"It would be wise for you to change," Shirleigh stated. "Red is not your colour."

Before I had the chance to retort, she had already retreated to her room.

Glancing down at my dress, I couldn't keep my mind from remembering Evelyn's face. So many emotions flashed in her eyes, anger, pain, mortification. She had never looked so horrifying before. Shivers went down my spine when I thought back to the body on the rooftop and I felt sick.

"Watson!"

"Yes?" I answered, slightly annoyed.

Not hearing an answer, I walked down the hall and Shirleigh was standing in her doorway.

"After you freshen up, your dress goes in the bag by the door," she informed me. "I shall leave them with Hudson in the morning."

"You leave bloodied clothes...with Mr. Hudson?"

Shirleigh stared at me blankly.

"Right," I acknowledged. "Thank you for telling me."

"And, Watson..."

As I turned my back to cross the hall to return to my own room, my flatmate called out to me once more, only this time, her voice sounded softer.

"I appreciate you coming along with me tonight," she lifted herself on her toes, her attention fixated on something in her room. "You proved rather valuable."

"Is that your way of saying 'thank you'?"

"I...understand if you would rather keep your distance," she continued, ignoring my question.

"Apology accepted."

She looked down at me through her long lashes and there was something melancholic behind her eyes. Of course, it was replaced with the all too familiar stoic expression she often wore. I smiled at her and she closed her bedroom door.

Within the comfort of my room, I began readying myself for a shower. Removing my stockings, my hand brushed against the cold metal of my prosthetic and I gasped. I ran. For the first time since having this hunk of metal attached to me, I ran. A full-fledged sprint and I collapsed, staring at the rug beneath me. Something cold rolled down my cheek and I realised tears were falling from my face. Instead of holding them back as I had done for so long, I let them run.

It was difficult to say if they were tears of happiness or tears of anguish finally being set free. When I wiped them away, I found that I felt relieved and was glad I allowed myself to cry freely. My sniffles seemed to echo in the silence of the room and I got to my feet.

I opened my bedroom door and entered the bathroom, turning on the shower water. As nice as a bath sounds right about now, the thought of sitting in bloody water did not sound as appealing.

After stepping into the shower, I removed my prosthetic and pulled the shower curtain closed. I placed my hand on the shower wall to keep myself upright as the water washed over me. The warm water relaxed my muscles and I closed my eyes, letting the sound soothe my mind.

When my leg grew tired, I sat on the edge of the tub and washed my skin, being sure to scrub the dried blood underneath my fingernails. What were we to do now? Shirleigh was set on catching this murderer...my friend...I couldn't help but think there was something off. Not only did Evelyn faint at the sight of blood, but she always exhibited the utmost kindness, helping others. Helping me.

Now that I had time to sit and marinate in my thoughts, it was difficult to prevent my mind from forming new theories. Evelyn had warned me about The Whitechapel Murderer when I arrived. It wasn't to protect me, it was to keep me from catching her red-handed. Shirleigh had informed me that she worked at the morgue, something she hadn't told me herself. Was her fear of blood just a multi-year ruse? But why would she be carrying out such gruesome acts? How long was she doing this and why was she after something so specific? Was it for herself...?

Deciding I had enough water pelting my skin, I turned the water off and dried my thigh before reattaching my prosthetic. Drying off the rest of my body, I slipped on my nightgown and walked into the hallway. Before heading back to my room, I stopped by the enormous bookshelves in the living area. If Shirleigh was so fixated on this case, I would certainly find some sort of research or notes.

Scanning the bookshelves, I was unable to find anything of note to look into. When I started to head back, I caught a glimpse of a folder on the end table next to what I think I shall call "Shirleigh's Thinking Chair". Grabbing the file, I returned to my room where I would begin delving into a dangerous rabbit hole.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Birds chirped outside my window and I groaned pulling my blanket over my head. I rolled over accidentally knocking some papers off the side of the bed. I leaned over and saw the case files on the Whitechapel murders scattered across the floor.

All of the victims were young women who lived in the East End and all of their wounds were similar. Each of them had multiple stab wounds, their throats slit, and their abdomens scavenged. There was most definitely a specific goal the culprit was trying to accomplish, but the "why" was something I just could not figure out.

Crawling out of bed, I picked up the papers and arranged them the way Shirleigh originally had them.

Not bothering to get dressed or brush my hair, I opened my door and nearly dropped the file I had so carefully organised.

Shirleigh was sitting in the hallway across from my bedroom, sleeping. Her head bobbed as she subconsciously tried to keep her body from falling over. Her hair was an absolute mess and I giggled to myself, apparently a little too loud for Shirleigh violently woke and jumped to her feet, completely alert.

"Oh," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "It was only you."

"Good morning," I said, hiding my prosthetic behind my other leg. "Why are you in the hallway if I may ask?"

"I was keeping vigil," she explained, scratching her head.

"You..." I paused. "...were watching me?"

"I was not watching you, I was watching over you," Shirleigh explained mid-stretch. "It would be a shame if something happened to my first flatmate. Hudson seems to have taken a liking to you and I feel he would have my head if something were to happen."

My heart skipped when she called me her flatmate even though I was aware that was the only term to refer to someone living with somebody else. Unsure of how to respond, I made an acknowledging huff and started to slink back into my room in hopes of slipping into some stockings to cover my prosthetic.

As Shirleigh yawned, I shut the door to my bedroom and exhaled.

»»————-　♔　————-««

I joined Shirleigh at the dining table where she had her nose in the morning paper, her breakfast untouched.

"I believe I have not seen you eat anything since I moved in," I stated.

"Digestion slows cognitive function."

"I beg your pardon?"

Shirleigh set the paper on the table, obviously irritated.

"Digestion requires energy. Energy that could be better utilised by my mind," she told me. "Partaking in meals would render me useless."

"But you are a human," I said. "Not eating for the reason you say is completely counterintuitive. Food provides the necessary energy and nutrients we need to function."

"I am not a human, Watson," she stated bluntly. "I am a brain. The rest of me is a mere appendix."

I sighed and sat across from her.

"Are we going out again tonight?" I asked.

She lifted her eyes from the paper and raised an eyebrow.

"You know, to catch Jack the Ripper?"

"You read the file?"

"Ah," I looked at the folder that I held close to my chest. "I did. I apologise for taking your things without consulting you first."

"As much as I despise my personal belongings being touched, it is of no matter," Shirleigh said. "In fact, I would love to hear your thoughts on the case at hand."

"Oh, um," I had difficulty forming what I wanted to say. "I am sure it is nothing you haven't already thought of."

"Surprise me."

Clutching the folder, I attempted to recall the theories I had formed when turning page after page. I found myself growing rather nervous each time I opened my mouth to speak that I would stop myself and rethink my choice of words. It was difficult to say whether I was afraid that my thoughts were ridiculous or scared of what Shirleigh would think about me in terms of intelligence. She remained unmoving on the other side of the table but I could tell that she was growing impatient by the second.

"Well..." I began. "All of the victims reside within the East End. They were all killed in secluded areas and dissected in a similar fashion. From how brutal the murders appear, the culprit either knew the victims or was blinded by violent rage."

Shirleigh remained statuesque.

"All of them were young females, which seemed odd to me at first," I said. "But when I remembered the body on the rooftop, it started to become clear that the murderer is after a singular thing."

She thought I wouldn't notice, but Shirleigh carefully leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table and pressing her fingertips together. I looked up and her face expressed great interest. Her eyebrows raised as if to tell me to continue and so I did.

"The murderer removed all of their wombs-"

Shirleigh sprang to her feet, the dishes on the table clattering and a few utensils falling to the floor.

"What happened?" I asked, confused.

"How could I have not seen something so blatantly obvious?" Shirleigh grumbled to herself. "But why? Why? Why?"

She paced back and forth in the kitchen, rubbing the space between her eyebrows. I watched as she had a silent conversation with herself,  complete with hand gestures and the shaking of her head.

"Do you not work together with the police? A coroner or an autopsy would have revealed as much."

Upset by my sudden inquiry, Shirleigh groaned and ran her fingers through her hair.

"I would have to be a complete and utter fool to lend myself to those incompetent 'officers'."

"Incompetent?" I exclaimed. "Whatever makes you say that?"

Shirleigh flung the refrigerator door open, retrieved a jug of water, and poured herself a glassful before throwing the jug back on the shelf. She stood in the refrigerator light, holding the glass in one hand and placing her other on the open door. From what I could see, the shelves in said fridge were nearly bare save for a couple of jugs of water and some jars that were covered with a fabric of some sort, presumably preservatives. At least it seemed I wouldn't have to worry about her ever being dehydrated. The door slammed shut and Shirleigh turned to face me, leaning against the counter.

"For the time you have been out of the country, I suppose things have changed since last you were here," she set her glass beside her and crossed her arms. "A couple of months prior, while you were in the islands, the police chief of twenty years announced her departure and a boy stepped in to take her place."

Shirleigh's nose scrunched and it was clear she had disdain for the newcomer.

"A boy?"

"A man, Watson," Shirleigh explained. "A rather condescending, manipulative, tyrannical man. One who only sought the position of police chief to take control of the city. He has no interest in upholding peace hence the reason for the gradually increasing rate of crime and this serial killer running amok."

"Have you ever thought about becoming an officer yourself?" I wondered. "I believe you would be able to reform the department without any issue."

"I serve no one but myself."

"But you seem to like assisting others," I said, turning in my chair to face her. "This definitely is not your first time doing something like this, surely it must bring you satisfaction."

"It does," she closed her eyes and held a finger up to her forehead. "I do not, however, do it to assist the townsfolk. I do it to satiate my mind's cravings for stimulation."

"It just sounds to me like you're hungry," I said flatly. "Why don't you eat something? Hudson does take the time to make all of this, after all. Don't you find that you are being ungrateful?"

A look of wrath flashed across her face before dissipating. The intense expression caught me off guard. She sighed.

"I feed on knowledge, Watson," she told me. "Not carbohydrates. Now let us go."

Shirleigh stepped toward me and extended her hand which held a familiar-looking cane in its grasp. Realising that I did not have it with me when we returned last night, I gasped. In disbelief, I took hold of it but she didn't release her own.

"It is nought but the mind," she said in a low voice, leaning towards me. "It is a truly magnificent thing and can cause great fears all the same."

I stared into the blue spheres that would often chill me to my core, but rather than shivering under their gaze, my face grew warm and everything that weighed on my conscience lifted. Shirleigh unfurled her long fingers and stepped backwards before swiftly pivoting on her ankle and making for her room.

"Time, Watson!" I heard her call out from the hall.

"Is of the essence," I murmured, retreating from the table, and leaving my cane behind.