A Mark Left Behind

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***

June 7, 1888.

Within London, the current largest capital of the world, there was a feeling of distance that no one seemed to be able to cross.

Like an unseen barrier between people.

It was silent and people moved around with uncertainty.

There was a lingering presence of distrust and death in the air.

Alvis, who was smiling while out shopping, ignored the atmosphere entirely and continued on his morning duties.

"Good morning Mr. Everard, I hope business isn't too slow these days."

The large man laughed.

"Haha! No, not at all. Thanks to the Royal family my business has been fine. Though it is a little ominous is it not? These strings of murders."

"Yes, they are. Here, the money for today."

"Yes yes. Hmm, well I'll be seeing you tomorrow as well?"

"Yes, you will, like always Mr. Everard."

Leaving the store with a brown paper bag, Alvis called out.

"Miss Holmes, I've ignored you these past few months, not including that time where you tried to track me with the residues of a mana stone, yet you still track me?"

Looking near a dark alleyway, out came Charlotte Holmes with her hands within her coat's pockets.

"..."

"Haha, well hello Miss Holmes."

Alvis laughed seeing the monotone face of Holmes.

"Oh? Not responding?"

His smile changed into a wry one.

"..."

"Ah, why must you be like this Miss Holmes. I'm trying my best to interact with you yet you treat me as such… Truly, it's heartbreaking to receive such harsh emotions from you."

"...Did you know this was going to happen?"

Words had finally come out from Holmes' mouth.

"My, what might you mean?"

"These copycats who copy Jack the Ripper's murders."

"..."

Alvis stood still for a moment in silence.

"...Did you know Miss Holmes? Currently, there are four 'factions' of power within London. Two within the governmental sphere and two who control the populace. Isn't that quite strange? Such large amounts of power within the hands of some people."

"..."

"Ah, not that I care much about them. What were their names again…? Ah, well. But my point is Miss Holmes, this was going to happen in one way or another. Those two who control the populace made quite a lot of people's relationships strained so a murder based on revenge such as this one is to be expected."

"..."

"You can try to stop it if you wish, Miss Holmes, but once you stop it, can you stop the thoughts that this murder has caused? The thoughts of revenge because of infidelity, betrayal, and much more… The name 'Jack the Ripper' will soon become a symbol rather than a simple name."

"..."

"Even if you manage to control the common populace, what about the nobles and wealthy merchants? Hoho. Of course, I am looking forward to how you will solve this. I hope that Dr. Watson will publish this so that I can soon read it. Well, in the end even if you are not the one who calms this crisis, I'm sure that the other within the government will quell it."

"Ah, it seems that our time is up for now. Those within the kitchen usually get mad if I am late no matter the reason. Well, goodbye Miss Holmes I'll be seeing you soon."

Alvis waved as Holmes stared at him, motionless and mute.

Holmes reached into her pocket and brought out a pack of Arcadia cigarettes.

Taking one out, she brought her lighter to the tip and smoke soon entered her mouth.

'...I need to stop this soon.'

***

A criminal organization has appeared.

Plans were made.

Please Miss Holmes…

Succeed.

***

As night soon fell and Alvis' shift ended at Buckingham Palace, he rode a carriage to the Garrideb mansion.

Noises of scratching inside persisted, like a dog was begging to be let in.

After entering and going through the secret passageway, there Alvis took off his top half clothes.

On his arms to his chest were small black dots and small black patches.

It was Originium that had pierced through his skin and solidifying on his skin.

"...It seems that more and more of my failures are being used instead of being used as further research material."

"Ahaha… Well what can you do at times like this, right Dr. Frankenstein?"

"...Yes."

"..."

As a pair of pliers enter her hands, Dr. Frankenstein brings it to a fairly large solidified Originium ore about the size of a portion of a pinky.

"Ugh…"

As the pliers take out the ore, the rock leaves behind a large hole in its absence, which starts to pour out blood.

"..."

As minutes pass of the woman staring at the black ore, eventually Dr. Frankenstein speaks.

"Drink this."

Dr. Frankenstein held a small tube of liquid by holding the top with three fingers like a claw.

Alvis then took the tube and drank its contents without a second thought.

Immediately the effects could be seen on his body and the wound where the hole was once was, was replaced with new flesh. All that remained was the blood on top of the newly formed skin.

"May I ask which number this was? I felt that it was quite potent today even compared to the other ones you have given me before."

"...#183. This one was one of the more recent ones. Dating back only a week ago."

"Hmm. Is that so?"

Alvis looked into the now empty tube with a look of contemplation.

He gave the tube back to Dr. Frankenstein and put his shirt back on.

"What is the progress of the tests that were requested?"

"Those tests that you asked me for will take at least another few months and another year at the latest."

"Hmm. Well, Mrs. Garrideb, I won't know if I can survive that long now can I? Also, you do have my notes that I transcribed to you, yes?"

Dr. Frankenstein's head nodded in a strange manner, like her neck was more so made of cotton than of flesh and bones.

"Shall we start on our lesson?"

Over three hours passed as Alvis earnestly learned from the former professor before he left the mansion, passing by the heavily modified room of Neria Garrideb.

Scratching noises persisted throughout the mansion.

***

"Hmm~"

"Hoho, well, this is quite good…"

Alvis read the morning news.

The headlines 'Charlotte Holmes Solves Yet Another Case!' was proudly on the front page.

"What number is this now? It was sixteen… Hmm~ This is quite good. I should go and celebrate this with Miss Holmes, should I not?"

***

Charlotte Holmes' room looked more like a madman's than a livable space.

On the walls were papers that clearly used a typewriter due to the neatly spaced letters and her board that was once used for investigative purposes was now flipped over and filled with papers of various murders.

Slowly within London, the rate of crime was rising, like a curse had descended from Whitechapel and spread like plague throughout the capital.

It started with one revenge murder that was quickly solved by the police but then, like a flap of a butterfly's wings, London murders started to rapidly increase.

It was now August and there were over twenty unsolved murder cases.

The general populace were scared and hid within their homes and it was unbelievable that just over half a year ago the very same people danced and sang together while the snow fell in winter.

Holmes looked at each piece of paper before piecing together several and a smile appeared on her face.

"I've solved another one."

Holmes rushed out the door and called out to Watson.

"Watson! I've solved another murder, the one that happened on July 13. Send this to Scotland Yard to arrest this man!"

At Holmes' shouting, Watson just as quickly took the letter within her hands and quickly left the boarding house.

This was now the daily life of these Detective duo as they frantically moved to stop the copycats of Jack the Ripper.

The entire house had changed even more drastically than when Holmes was in a frenzy.

At a closer inspection of Holmes' face, though it was brimming with happiness of the amount of cases, it was also lamenting as if the happiness on a surface level was merely fabricated.

It had been days since the house rested with silence.

Holmes had used several drugs that she herself had made to stay up the several consecutive days.

She was tired.

It was tedious.

The cases were all tedious.

No matter how much her curse would allow her to feel emotions, the unrelenting amount of neverending cases would drown her.

Her hair was brittle yet glowing.

Her eyes were shining yet dull.

Her nails were chipped from the heavy amount of mana poisoning.

In other words, Holmes' body was collapsing.

It was a cycle of destruction.

For several days she would solve cases then sleep then start again.

As Holmes sat on a wooden chair, an unexpected noise rang out.

Ding Dong~

Holmes sighed as she slowly strided towards the door.

"Who's ther—"

As soon as Holmes opened her eyes at the visitor, her eyes seemed to glow with murderous intent.

"You vile man. What are you doing here?"

Alvis stood, holding a box of what seemed to be cake.

"Yes yes, Miss Holmes. I'm here to celebrate! You have once again seemed to exceed my expectations with solving sixteen cases on your own! As a fellow detective I wanted to come and celebrate."

Holding the box with a large smile, Alvis' mood compared with Holmes was a complete contrast.

"Haha, you… Did you do this as well? You knew that I would solve these cases so that I would be unable to find evidence for your crimes… I don't have time."

"..."

Alvis simply smiled.

"May I come in?"

"..."

Holmes stared at the man with an incredulous look.

"Ha… Yes, sure. Though I cannot guarantee your comfort with how unclean our boarding house has become."

"No, no. That's quite fine."

As Alvis stepped into the house, the door behind himself closed.

Alvis' head turned as he took in the scene of an almost diapalated house.

Papers were everywhere, letters were everywhere, the floors were unclean and not cleaned for at least a month, the fireplace was filled with ashes and not clean as well.

"What a quite nice house you have, Miss Holmes."

"Genuinely I cannot tell if you are sarcastic or mad. What part of my house is currently 'fine' to you?"

"Hmm~ Is it not nice to have a change of pace? Disorder the order, at least now you have a new memory."

'Mad, truly mad. What kind of man can say those words as if they are real?'

"..."

"...Set the cake here."

Soon, both Alvis and Holmes sat across from each other, each with a cup of tea and a plate of a slice of cake.

"What do you want."

"Me? Oh Miss Holmes, do you not see?"

Alvis sighed.

"See? I don't understand what you mean."

"No, it's fine. Miss Holmes, do you remember my words from a few months ago?"

Holmes' brows furrowed.

"...Are you referring to 'I am looking forward to how you will solve this case?'?"

"Ah, yes. Truly having a perfect memory comes in handy in times such as these. Yes, I want you to solve this case more than anyone else in the world, Miss Holmes."

"Of course I understand that just saying these words will not do anything as after I leave you most likely plan on continuing your work on the copycats and so I present you a choice."

"One: You may ignore my words and continue your work. Or Two: Solve this case within a month or else 'Jack the Ripper' will start his killings once more. I'm sure you must have noticed that after the first copycat murder 'Jack the Ripper' has turned silent and only sends messages through the Central News Agency. I wonder what those fanatics of 'Jack the Ripper' will do once his work starts again."

Holmes' glared at Alvis but he continued.

"Ah, of course no outside help. This is only for you Miss Holmes and you alone. I don't want a certain someone to come and sweep up this mess. To give you a little hint, that certain someone plans on sweeping everything in a month, that's the reason for your deadline."

Eating the last piece of his cake, Alvis stood from his chair.

"Thank you for the tea and hospitality Miss Holmes. I hope you make the right decision. Ah, if possible I would like to see how you solved this case in a book written by Dr. Watson soon. I won't be so cruel and say that Dr. Watson is considered 'help' in this case."

As Alvis left, Holmes' tea grew cold.

***

On September 10, 1888 a shocking news story erupted in London.

"Holmes, is this the right decision?"

Watson asked, with an unsure tone.

"Watson, that vile man has only given me two choices and of those two, only a single one is a path that is worth walking on."

Holmes looked considerably better than the previous day as her dark circles lessened considerably.

"In all honesty Watson, that man opened my eyes for a moment. If I was stuck within that neverending case of murders, not only would I have drowned, the entire country would too."

"I was too stuck within that spiral to notice anything."

"Perhaps that is the only thing I can thank him for."

"Now, Watson. Let us find the clues to the path that I have ignored earlier."