Chapter Text
Bored. Ciel was so incredibly bored. The Moriarties had been having their fun, playing some twisted game with the consulting detective that their dearest William had found himself obsessed with recently. It wasn’t that Ciel did not get it, seldom does one find someone who understands your entire being without needing to know a single thing about you. For him, that was his twin brother, for William that was this Sherlock fellow. He was bothersome, and Ciel could only see himself being able to tolerate him so long as they were at each other's throats in a game of chess, but he was undeniably brilliant. Something that drew in the middle child of the Moriarty family.
At first there was joy to be found in spending his time with the new house guest, Finnian so well intentioned it would be hard to find him bothersome. Yet, it was equally exhausting for Ciel – a cold boy without much interest in others – to have to keep up with the light in the other boy's heart. A clash of kind warmth and a bitter frost. He tried to teach him a variety of games, but every instruction seemed to go over the boys head. Now, here sat Ciel with a book on German pronunciation in hopes that he could explain the rules of games in the blond’s native language. He could recognize many words from the studies of his youth, but his spoken German was, as his nanny had once told him, an atrocity.
Here he was, studying something that in the grand scheme of things would be useless to him, while everyone else made strides in their own plan. This was unfair, this was absolutely maddening. He would go out, he would investigate himself if this was how things would keep going, his promise be damned. For now he resolved to investigate the second study, hidden from any unwanted visitors and often home to the engineer that brought Finnian, for any cases their mole within the yard had sent. Perhaps something would hint toward the next step. With that in mind Ciel stood, motioning for the other boy to follow him. The trek was quick, and soon both boys found themselves surrounded by open files. A few choice ones pulled from the pile:
To Inspector Lestrade
Compiled case files: LO89JA1, LO89CR4, LO89KP2
Over a series of weeks several reports have come in that claim the disappearances of women; often women suspected of working as common prostitutes. These missing women are often later located, deceased and dissected. The Corner report is included below. As of now we have insufficient information to make any arrest. Though included is our suspects profile: Medical expertise, as detailed in the corner's report. Male, 40s, likely of a medium build, as assumed by the standard clientele of these women. Recommended course of action: Should no further evidence appear, consider passing this off to the consulting detective.
Constable Robinson.
The disappearances had been promising, but if the bodies had been located Ciel knew this likely had nothing to do with his own situation, setting the file off to the side.
To Inspector Lestrade
Compiled case files: TW87CC8, DH87CM2, LO88HH9, LO88GD7, MC88TW5…
Last night a breakthrough occurred in the aforementioned cases, several of the children recovered - both living and deceased - from a fire in the countryside. The yard arrived on site per the guidance of one S. Holmes, though at this point the building had been set ablaze. The children all sat outside, speaking of a group who had freed them from a supposed trafficking ring. They refused to give any further details on those who had found them, though we are operating under the assumption that it was a group at tension with the nobles who had died in the fire. Every child in the above reports was found, except for one missing child, one of the phantomhive twins mentioned in TW87CC8. This remaining missing persons case has been referred to the aforementioned consulting detective. No suspects at this time.
Constable Shaw
The police had less information that Ciel himself had, something which caused the boy to throw the empty file across the room in anger, scaring the other boy in the room. No one had anything, nothing at all. Had William even been looking, or had he hid everything of substance from Ciel? He was so tired, so tired of sitting here unable to do anything, so tired of being angry at some faceless entity. He wanted to go home, or he wanted to rest, but he could do neither till he avenged his brother and exacted his revenge for the acts committed against him.
He continued to rifle through the remaining documents, but nothing, it was as if they had been scrubbed clean. No report even bothered to theorize as to who their kidnapper had even been, or as to who had lit the mansion on fire. What type of detective work was this. If Holmes had been employed surely he had told them something?
Wait…..
That’s it. They’re too clean, while Ciel knew he had an advantage compared to the run of the mill yardsman, surely they would have reported on Sherlock Holmes' rambling on site. Yet, nothing. No theories, no evidence recorded, not even a note that Holmes was struggling, which at least would have explained away the shells these files were.
William hadn’t hid the evidence from him, these shells were the evidence. The culprit had to be someone with influence, or someone who would naturally be protected over the citizens of this nation. A noble, and most likely a high ranking one. The kidnappers were hired by someone with status, and likely that same person was either paying off the yard or someone within their circle was. His father certainly had enemies of all walks of life, but only so many could afford such a risk. All Ciel had to do now was inspect his fathers relations with the highest ranking nobles. A huff followed by a snort left Ciel, “If they are as high ranking as I suspect then I sure am lucky to have allied myself with the one group ready to topple a nation anyway.”