Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

And you can hold me like he held her
And ill fuck you like nothing matters
-The last dinner party.

Lockwood

Lockwood hadn't walked into the attic since the day Lucy left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. But now facing the choice of getting sued without having the correct paperwork or walking back up there. Lockwood was starting to think he’d rather choose getting sued. After Lockwood and Co’s last case, Lockwood realized that he in fact did not have the casebook. He and George weren't able to find it anywhere, not in the library, in the basement ,or actually anywhere in the house really. The casebook had never been taken out of Portland row unless it was for legal business. Lockwood had let the cases get backlogged and hadn’t logged them for months or at least that's what he told George.

Especially since There was only one place the casebook could be, Lucy’s attic.

It had been months, Since she left, but Lockwood couldn't stop thinking of it as her attic. The door’s hinges creaked as he opened it. The stairs creaked as he walked up just like they did after a long case when they would sit and have tea on the floor filling out the casebook. Together.

The attic looked lifeless derived of the color Lucy once brought into it. The quilts sat folded on the bed, the desk spotless, and the walls held spots where the hung photographs of her and Norrie used to be. The casebook sat on the small night stand on the right side of the bed . Right along with a bottle of black nail polish. The casebook had collected a thin layer of dust on the top. Though Lockwood’s glaze stayed firmly on the bottle of nail polish with its worn lid and faded label. He knew that specific bottle well ,it was the one Lucy used to touch up her nails on the kitchen table after they had become chipped.

The memory seemed to have a golden hue to it when Lockwood looked back on it. The last time Lucy painted her nails in the kitchen, with George cooking food, and him putting the kettle on. If he thought about it for too long a sharp pain appeared in his chest. The memory was old Lucy stopped really doing anything in the kitchen with them after Holly came along.

“Lockwood I'm going to Flo's, I need to know about some of the history for that case tomorrow. did you ever find the case book?” George hollered
Then it occurred to Lockwood that George was still home. Then he remembered had to answer back.
“ Yeah I found the casebook, it was on Lucy’s night stand.”
A crash sounded downstairs, along with muttered cursing
“George? Are you okay down there.” Lockwood shouted
“Yeah, I'm leaving I'll be back to make dinner if not there's leftovers in the fridge.”
The door shut, then Lockwood was alone.
All he could think about was there were always leftovers since Lucy left, Holly wouldn't eat George's cooking. “Too much grease,” she said. George had gotten too used to cooking for 3 people, not two. Lockwood stared at the attic, and the pain in his chest seemed to increase.

Deciding to get over himself he walked over to the night stand to grab the casebook and found the bottle of nail polish, the casebook, and the necklace he had given Lucy for the Fittes ball. The one she never took off. Well until now.

Lockwood's throat went dry as he picked up the necklace, he thought she at least had the necklace keeping her safe; and just maybe reminding her of him.

But she left it.
She left him.

Lockwood wanted to throw something or run until his legs gave out. No, what he really wanted was his Lucy back. He wanted her sitting at his stupid dining room table painting her stupid fucking nails that black color he loved so damn much. He wanted her sitting on the sofa drawing in her sketch pad. He wanted the late nights after cases back, with all of them cuddled up on the sofa eating random takeout. He wanted to make her tea in the morning, and have late afternoon rapier practice. Lockwood wanted to be sitting in Lucy’s attic filling out the casebook together. He wanted to take care of her. Be hers and hers only.

But he couldn't have that because Lucy left.
She fucking left him.

Lockwood wanted a bottle of liquor, in a daze he walked down the attic stairs carefully and down into the kitchen and opened the small cabinet containing all the available alcohol in Portland Row. Lockwood grabbed a half full bottle the one with a white label, and a green bottle. He didn't feel like bothering with a glass. He set Lucy’s necklace on the counter, and sunk down onto the floor clutching the bottle in his hands. He popped the cap off and set it on the floor.
He’d promised her he wouldn’t do this again. Not after last time. Drink until he couldn't stand anymore. Until he was slurring his words. Until he’d end up curled in her lap begging her not to leave him. Then puking his guts up the next morning as she rubbed circles on his back. She’d broken her promise. So it would be fine for him to break his.

He sat there nursing the bottle until the ache in his chest went away, until his world was blurry and thoughts of Lucy became all consuming. He thought of her laugh and the way her hair would smell of her strawberry shampoo after showers. The way she would soothe him after a nightmare, brushing his hair back and whispering sweet nothings. His whole life felt like a nightmare after she left.
Maybe she’d come back and fix it if he just called her. Fix him. Lockwood took a large gulp of the bottle
Nausea turned his stomach. Where was Lucy? Was she in trouble? Was she hurt? Why wasn't she home?
Lockwood turned to take another swing of the bottle and found it empty. He needed to know where Lucy was. What if she was hurt? Lockwood pushed himself off the ground, wobbling as he got up the bottle crashed into the floor shattering. He didn't mean to do that. Lucy will be mad when he finds he is drinking again. He didn't want to hurt her.
He walks over the landline, and dials the number on the card next to it. Her business card. Why did Lucy have a business card? As the phone starts to ring Lockwood's hands start to shake, and after 3 rings it picks up.

Chapter Text

Lucy

Lucy flopped onto her bed and threw her case duffle onto the floor. The freelance case she had been on had been BRUTAL, it had been an old hoarders house. It was old ,disgusting , and smelled like rot. The house was currently on the market, and the sellers had been hearing strange noises and been feeling disturbing chills. She’d been hired by Rotwell, to clear the disturbances. It was supposed to have been a simple case. It was not a simple case. It was a poltergeist, one who threw vases and other strange objects . Oh she forgot to mention the old hoarder? Hordered vases and ceramic items.
Lucy had one too many vases thrown at her head for one night, plus she didn't take the skull and he was being real bitchy about it.

It was 3:20 Am, and Lucy was ready for bed.

She’d just started stripping her case clothes off, when her landline started to ring. The phone shook the nightstand it was on.
Who the hell could be calling her so late? It has to be important right? Lucy should probably answer.She shoved on a t-shirt and picked up the still ringing phone. She wasn't expecting the voice the phone projected. It was Lockwood. Anthony fucking Lockwood. Babbling nonsense at her through her landline phone.
“ Lucyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, where are youuuuu and are you coming home soon?” He whined
He only ever was this whiny when he was drunk. Oh shit. Did Lockwood start drinking again?
“Lockwood, where are you?’ Lucy asked. If he was at the pub Lucy was going to flip her shit. How could George let him get this drunk?
“Im at home , whereeeee areeee youuuuu Luceee?
“ Lockwood, where is George?” Lucy couldn't believe it after see he had promised not to drink anymore.
“ George is gonnneeeeee.”
“Lockwood what do you mean gone?” she questioned
Then the phone hung up. Lucy redailed Lockwoods number. No answer, just Lockwood and CO’s voicemail. So she tried again. Still no answer.
Then Lucy started to spiral. What if Lockwood was hurt? Lockwood had always been a dumb and clingy drunk. Lockwood and alcohol had never mixed well. Why he kept trying to make it work Lucy didn't know.

Lucy was considering the unexceptable option. Going over to Portland row to check on him. She couldn't. Could she? She had never given her key back when she moved out. She had been too much of a chicken to give it back to Lockwood so she didn’t. Lockwood could be hurt? Along with the mystery of where George was. She had to go over to Portland Row, just to check in one Lockwood.

Then before Lucy knew it she was putting her coat on and hailing a night cab in the cold London night. She shivered, feeling the chill deep down in her tired bones.

It took the cab 15 minutes to get to Portland Row from her apartment in Tooting. She walked up the concrete steps, took out her silver key, and let herself in.

The house was exactly the same as the night she left. The cluttered walkway that would lead into the warm kitchen. It seemed like nothing changed, but everything did at the same time. If she let herself give in to the memories, she would be able to see George cooking a meal in the kitchen while Lockwood put the kettle on and she fixed her nails.

That wouldn't happen again anytime soon or ever, and Lucy knew that. But still a little part of her longed for it back. Still Lockwoods safety came before her feelings.

Lockwood. She had to find his dumbass.

Portland Row wasn't huge, but it was still a large house. With that Lucy couldn't find Lockwood in any of his usual drunken spots. His room, the library chair, the bathroom, and even in George’s room. There really were only two places he could be. Jessica’s room and her old attic. Lucy prayed it was the latter of the two. Jessica’s room had always freaked her out. She could still hear Jessica’s death loop when she opened the white landing door.

Lockwood wasn't there, and a weight lifted off Lucy’s chest. Lockwood would only go to Jessica’s room when he was absolutely wasted, and him not being there gave Lucy a bit of hope for him being okay.

But that meant Lockwood was in the attic. The one place she never wanted to step foot in again.

Lucy walked up the creaking stairs and up to the lovingly painted door with small blue flowers on the bottom. Lucy starred at the flowers. She and Lockwood had done that together. They had ended up covered in blue painted, but both of them were laughing just the same.

The ache in her chest increased tenfold. Snap out of it Lucy, she thought. She needed to find Lockwood.

She pushed the door open, it swung on its creaking hinges. In the middle of the bare room was a drunk Lockwood on her old bed, looking utterly confused.

Maybe Lucy was frozen to the spot, or maybe this room had a weird spell on it. Lucy couldn’t move, the scene all to familiar.

She’d found him like this before, on the anniversary of Jessica’s death.

Then Lockwood started to get up to do what? Only God knew. Lucy rushed over to do what? Only God knew that too.
“Luce yourrr hommeee!” Lockwood slurred
“ Lockwood,where’s George?” She drilled
“ Gonnneee with Floooo.” Lockwood made grabby hands for her jumper. Then he looked confused
“ whyyy arrreeee yoouuu innn aaa coooattt, did you gettt
Offf a cassee?” Lucy stepped away from his clammy hands. Lockwood started to pout.
“Yes Lockwood I just got off a case, do you remember what happened 3 months ago?” She questioned.
It was like a light bulb went off in his head. His eyes went large with recognition.
“Lucccyyy whyy are you heree?” Lockwood had more of a serious tone than before, but his words still slurred.
He attempted to get up off of the bed only to almost fall over and onto the floor.
Lucy ran over to him, and supported his back he smelled faintly like the peppermint liquor he would pour them on Christmas. It had always been her favorite.