Entry 5

"How did you know?"

Shirleigh was lying on the sofa examining the envelope Evelyn had passed to her. Her eyebrows raised as if to ask me to elaborate.

"How did you know it was Evelyn?"

She lifted her eyes to look at me, still silent.

"Thinking back on it now," I started. "When you said you had visited Evelyn at the morgue a few days ago, I don't think you were there to test whatever hypotheses you had. Well, maybe you were, but I believe you had paid a visit in order to observe Evelyn, the true culprit. So how did you know it was her?"

Shirleigh sat up and brought her knees to her chest. She closed her eyes.

"As we know, all of the victims were murdered here in the East End and they all had wounds resembling one another. When I first examined the bodies, the method by which they were killed told me that someone with medical, rather anatomical, expertise had committed the crimes. The throats were first slit from behind, slicing through the carotid arteries in the neck, resulting in near-instantaneous death. The maws in the victim's abdomens, while terribly jagged, were performed more methodically than any common person would be able to accomplish. These observations allowed me to narrow my search to those with professions in the medical and medical-related fields.

"The fact that the culprit was also left-handed benefitted my search greatly. There are not many people who are left-hand dominant. Evelyn just so happened to be the only person in the morgue who was just so. When I was observing her the other day, I examined the notes she jotted down. Unfortunately, she had injured her dominant hand a few days prior, which coincides with the 'double event', and had to use her non-dominant hand. Now, if you will observe for yourself."

Shirleigh motioned to a stack of papers on the coffee table. I took them up and recognised some of the writing as Evelyn's, then there was writing that looked identical to that of The Ripper's.

"This is..."

"The Whitechapel Murderer's handwriting is the result of Evelyn using her non-dominant hand."

I stared at the letters and back at Shirleigh completely speechless. It was amazing how her mind worked in such unorthodox ways. I would have never figured out where to even begin with all of this.

"Brilliant..." I murmured.

"Hm?"

"Absolutely brilliant!" I exclaimed, rising to my feet. "You must teach me your methods."

I could have sworn that Shirleigh's face turned a light shade of pink, but when I blinked, she was the same as she had always been.

"You can begin with observing," she told me. "Don't just see. Observe."

"Hmm."

"The only thing that I have yet to understand is why she would go to the trouble of removing each of the victims' wombs," Shirleigh muttered. "What was she trying to achieve?"

"That is still quite the mystery, isn't it?"

She laid her head back on the armrest and held the envelope above her face.

"Speaking of observing," I said. "Why don't you just open it?"

"The suspense."

"Suspense?"

"It is like the build-up to a holiday," she began. "Take Christmas for example. Don't you find the days leading up to the holiday much more exciting than the actual holiday itself?"

"Hmm," I crossed my arms in thought. "I'm not sure. I can more or less understand what you are getting at, though."

"That is why I will not open it."

Evelyn had given me the letter just before the police took her away and I passed it on to Shirleigh. Her parting words were rather ominous and have lingered in my mind ever since, so I am sure, without a doubt that they have been on Shirleigh's as well. I worry that maybe a lot is going on in that head of hers that she won't tell anyone about. If she won't open up to anyone else, I at least hope she can learn to confide in me. But I suppose everything takes time.

My thoughts were interrupted, however, by the sound of paper tearing and I saw Shirleigh opening the envelope with a penknife.

"I thought you weren't going to open it," I said.

"I grew bored."

"Right..." I mumbled, making my way over to read the letter. "What does it say?"

The person who wrote the letter had beautiful penmanship, and the loops and curves of the letters were elegant. What was even more impressive was how cryptic the actual contents of the letter were. Consisting of only a few sentences, the ink on the paper was able to instill an ominous feeling within me. It read:

Miss Holmes,

If this letter finds its way into your possession, then the curtains have risen. I am looking forward to the show.

x The Ringleader

After I reread the note a few times over, I glanced at Shirleigh's face, which seemed to remain in its ever-indifferent state. There seemed to be something in her eyes, however. Something that sparkled.

She rose to her feet suddenly and strode over to the fireplace. She stood there for a moment before tearing the letter to pieces and tossing them into the burning flames.

"Wait!" I exclaimed, scrambling to my feet. "Don't you think that maybe that was a clue to something?"

"It was no clue, Watson," Shirleigh said, collapsing into her thinking chair. "It was an invitation. And I am no party person."

"An invitation?"

Shirleigh closed her eyes. Sitting across from her, I let down my hair and allowed myself to become completely relaxed.

"Do you do this sort of thing all the time?" I asked.

"Hm?" Shirleigh glanced at me. I believe it was the fastest she had ever acknowledged me.

"You know, chasing criminals and such. You say it stimulates your mind, so I was wondering if you had been doing this for a while."

"Hmm," she hummed, kicking her legs in the air. "It has not been long. Ever since I moved into the Palace, I often found that there were people who disturbed the peace. You will find, Watson, that I do not welcome unnecessary disturbances. My mind is incessantly running and even the most minor of inconveniences will ruin my mood."

I sat silently in hopes of being able to listen to her more. There was something eloquent in the way she talked. Her voice was of a lower register but it was still feminine and comforting to listen to. This may be the most she has ever talked about herself since my moving in.

"That being said, I figured that instead of waiting for law enforcement who would more than likely never arrive, I would put an end to the needless disruptions, giving my mind both stimulation and serenity."

"Amazing," I said. "So you have caught murderers before. No wonder you knew exactly what to do."

"The Whitechapel Murderer was the first killer I have apprehended. My previous 'cases' have been of minor calibre, finding lost animals, breaking and entering, robberies, et cetera."

"What?!" I exclaimed. "That's remarkable!"

"It is nothing."

Seeing as she fidgeted with the ribbon on her nightgown, it was easy to see that she appreciated the recognition.

"Would you..." she started, staring into the embers of the fireplace. "...Would you consider joining me on my future excursions?"

"I would love to join you."

She turned to me, shocked at my quick response. Her expression had softened for the first time that I had known her and I smiled. It filled me with joy that she would ask me such a question. The adventure I shared with her these past few days was utterly exhilarating and I wanted to be by her side for as long as I possibly could.

She went to swing her legs back over the arm of her chair but winced as she tried to do so.

"Are you alright?" I asked, rushing over to her side. "Let me see."

Shirleigh pouted before unbuttoning the midsection of her gown to show me an ill-cared-for wound. I knew she had gotten hurt during her clash with Evelyn but she assured me that she was fine.

"You just slapped a bandage on this didn't you?"

Shirleigh nodded sheepishly.

"You have to disinfect your wounds properly, Shirleigh," I said my voice firm. "Otherwise you risk infection. Is this how you have always tended to your injuries? Just, rub some dirt on them?"

She shrugged.

I sighed.

"You can't be afraid to ask for help," I told her. "No, you aren't afraid. You refuse to ask for help, probably because you feel you don't need it."

Some of Shirleigh's hair fell over her shoulder as she turned her head in the opposite direction. I would have assumed that she was uninterested in my little lecture, but her body language told me that she was somewhat ashamed.

I got to my feet and she looked down at me. She was even taller when I was not wearing heels, but that never intimidated me. In fact, her height made me feel safe whenever I stood beside her.

"We all need help sometimes," I whispered.

She held strong eye contact with me until I turned away to fetch my first aid kit from the kitchen.

»»————-　♔　————-««

After seeing to Shirleigh's wounds, I lay on the sofa on the opposite side of the living room. The sun had begun to set and gave the sky a wonderfully orange glow. It was a scene that I wish I could capture and hang as a painting. The cool wind from the outside gave me a nostalgic feeling when it brushed my skin.

"For some...peculiar reason," Shirleigh started, rousing me from my daydream. "I feel...stronger and smarter when you are with me."

I looked over in her direction, she held her violin above her, tugging at the snapped string.  She hummed to herself, but it was more of a silent conversation than a song. I waited for her to say something else, but she spoke no more for the rest of the evening.

It was strange, but I shared a similar feeling. Almost as though we were meant to cross paths...or walk alongside one another down the same road.