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He'd had enough. No matter how flimsy his case was, Crowley could no longer ignore the number one suspect, presenting himself on a silver platter every chance he got. The valet of the house was so incompetent Crowley had to confront him. Everything else would make him look like a fool! And Crowley was a lot of things, but definitely not that.

While deep in his frustration-fuelled musings, Crowley stomped down the stairs to the domestics' quarters in a very ungentlemanly way. His cover persona be damned, he wouldn't need it once he had cuffed that buffoon of an imposter.

As if destiny was on his side for a change, Castiel, the "valet" stood near the bottom of the stairs, standing ridiculously stiff and awkward at the same time as if to taunt Crowley with his inability to even remotely present like a servant.

"Castiel?"

The man looked up. He was a handsome fellow. Crowley had to concede to that. Pretty face, tall and slim figure, full lips and eyes the colour of the sea. That pretty face must have got him the position in the first place, because he was also a bumbling idiot that couldn’t distinguish between sets of cutlery. At least based on the look the mistress of the house, Lady Wildingham, shot Castiel when shethought nobody was looking. But Crowley was. Very closely. And not just for the pretty view.

"Let's cut this short. No reason to waste more time than I already have: Where are the jewels?"

Castiel creased his forehead in confusion, but before he could open his mouth, Crowley continued, "I said no more time wasting. Drop the excuses, the lies, the begging… Also skip the running part. I have a gun."

"I have a gun, too." Castiel hadn't moved, but he seemed ready. Crowley just didn't want to find out what he was ready for.

"You're really bad at this." Crowley growled, his nerves on edge.

The air in the small room became thick as lead as the two men stared at each other. Each of them ready to go for their weapon before the other could.

At least Crowley thought that was what they were doing, but instead, Castiel pulled some paper out of his pocket while Crowley hastened to grab his gun.

"Are we playing rock, paper, scissors here?" Crowley asked while he stared at the piece of paper Castiel held up.

"Now you are wasting time. Where are the jewels thief? Your lies won't work on me."

"Is that a joke? I am pointing a gun at you! I'm arresting you!"

"Your attempt at diverting my suspicion off of you, does not succeed. I watched you closely the last few days and based on your suspicious behaviour, I concluded you to be the thief I am looking for."

"I'm the thief? You are stealing my lines right now!" Crowley wasn't sure which impulse to follow: feeling insulted by Castiel calling him suspicious or being amused at this ridiculous situation. He chose the latter.

"Look who's talking. The most unconvincing valet in all of Britain. Almost like you aren't one."

"That is correct." Castiel pointed his paper at Crowley again, and this time, he bothered to read what was written on it.

"A Bow Street Runner…" he read. He looked at Castiel, then again at the paper. "That is even less convincing!"

"I am undercover to find the thief that stole my employer's jewels."

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"Stealing my lines."

Castiel's brow creased. "Doubtful."

Now was the time to feel insulted. "I'm a private investigator, not part of your boy's club", he hissed. "I just chose to go undercover with style. Because, unlike you, I know the difference between a salad fork and a fish knife!"

Castiel gave that look again. As if he were honestly thinking about what had been said. "I do, too. One is a fork, the other is a knife."

Crowley called Castiel the luckiest guy on Earth. Lucky that Crowley had more patience than this imbecile deserved. Otherwise, Crowley would have put that gun to good use by now.

"I applaud you later. We digress!"

"I was arresting y-"

"No! We will not run in circles. You've said you were hired. By whom?"

"You first. You could pretend to have the same employer."

"Fine! Lord Wildingham. Satisfied?"

Castiel nodded and put away his paper as if this had been a stalemate at any point in this conversation. "How did you get invited? It's unusual to invite commoners like you to a society like this."

"I was… creative. You would have been better off as the stable boy." Crowley put away his gun, even though Castiel looked anything but pleased with his answer.

"The stable boy does not get close to the suspects. And I take it you came here by unproper means."

"Effective means, my dear. You must work around the law to be successful in my field of work."

"Your field of work is obsolete by lawful officials already doing it. Legally. Inside the law."

"Where the unimaginative among us should work while the rest of us actually get results."

Crowley shook his head. "We digress! Again!"

He scanned the room. They were alone, but for how long? He didn't intend to stay undercover any longer, nor to have a secret conversation. They should stop fumbling around. "We have the same goal. And obviously, we both were wrong with our conclusion. Let's work together, combine our resources. You work downstairs and I work upstairs. That should speed up this investigation immensely. We catch the culprit, bring back the jewels, split the money and never have to see each other ever again. How does that sound?"

"I do not trust you."

"Trust my instinct to only work that hard for the proper payment. You can have all the glory, and I take all the money if that convinces you."

"Fine."

"Really?"

"That I can trust. It's always money with your lot. You should help people because it is the right thing to do."

"And I'm sure all the good feelings satiate you well." The noise of moving doors and footsteps grabbed his attention. "Let's discuss the details later. I'll call for your services after dinner this evening. Until then this conversation did not happen."

And not just because most of it was utter nonsense. Crowley stifled a sigh. This was going to be a very long case, wasn't it?

~

Crowley opened the buttons of his dark green blazer and threw it to the side, where Castiel could pick it up later. As agreed, he had requested the valet's services as a substitute for his own manservant. Now he had to wait for his arrival.

It didn't take long until someone knocked on the door to Crowley's lodgings and said someone had entered the room. Castiel greeted him with a curt nod.

"You really have to improve your whole servant spiel."

"Why? We are both imposters. Why continue pretending when we are alone?" Castiel took a seat in the other wing chair next to Crowley's, who huffed at the display of audacity.

"I imagine you won't be inclined to pour me a drink either." He didn't wait for an answer, simply stood up and did it himself. "Do you want a drink, too, master?"

"No, thank you." Castiel didn't even blink an eye at the irony dripping off Crowley's voice. Oblivious dolt. " 'Castiel' suffices. Your actual name is Crowley, I presume?"

Crowley sat down in his chair and watched as Castiel took out a thin black booklet. "Yes."

Castiel nodded, studied a page in his booklet, and crossed something off.

"What are you doing?"

"Eliminating you as a suspect." Castiel raised his head for a very dramatic pause. "For now."

"Lucky me." He held out his tumbler. "Hold it for a moment, please."

Automatically, Castiel grabbed the glass, and Crowley used this distraction to get hold of the booklet. "Interesting…" he said as he studied the pages.

"When-"

"Are you really surprised? I though you already took me for the worst of the worst."

The booklet kept a list of suspects and Castiel's notes about his investigation. "I'm too good at being a pleasant and entertaining guest? That's what rose your suspicions?" he snored. "I take the compliment."

The list contained some of the guests, the Lady herself even, and some of the servants. Crowley's list in his head was similar. Hardly an accomplishment to reach the same conclusion when the choices were so few.

"Impressive list." Castiel had crossed off a handful of names, Crowley among them. He concentrated on the remaining suspects. "Miss Eleanor could be good target. Pretty face but nothing between the ears. Reminds me of someone." Castiel just cocked his head. "She could either pretend to be that dense or she could know something of value. Either way, it's very easy to get her to talk."

"And it's easier for you to extract information from her than for me. There is a picnic planned for tomorrow. With a slow walk around the lake."

"Enough time for me to have a lovely chat with her."

~

Crowley felt Castiel's eyes piercing into his skull while he strolled with Miss Eleanor through the lacklustre park, following the overgrown path surrounding the lake of pea-soup in its middle. Lord Wildingham clearly didn't care for outings through unnatural nature. They had almost finished their round when Crowley drew Eleanor’s attention towards a lovely couple of swans on the lake, just to make Castiel wait a little longer.

"Did you know swans chose their partner for life?"

"How romantic!" Eleanor exclaimed. She exclaimed at basically everything as if it were completely new to her. Probably because it was, since it was very hard to keep something inside her empty head when it dared to fall out the other ear the moment it entered through the first one. She looked up at him through her eyelashes in an attempt at looking shy and seductive at the same time. Poor thing. The talk had been as empty as her head and contained nothing even remotely of interest to him. But she had made it very clear that he was of interest to her. And not for any matrimonial purpose. Always the dense once…

"Indeed. But nothing we have to emulate ourselves." He continued their walk, only to spare himself more trite conversation, Castiel be damned.

"I couldn't agree more." She said, half in a giggle. "We humans are much more creative in our ways."

"But also much more secretive."

"We must be. It's only proper. That's why I cannot stand that house maid."

"Whom? How so?" Crowley struggled to follow the conversation. How did they get from seductive innuendoes about their planned nightly activities to a housemaid? Unless Eleanor planned for her to take part, too. But her exclaimed dislike said otherwise.

"Mary. She is a chatty aunt. Cannot keep anything to herself and talks by far too much. That does not behoove someone in her place."

Nor someone in Eleanor’s place, but Crowley kept that to himself. Maybe he could make something useful out of that tidbit. But that chat was not his cross to bear.

He searched for Castiel, who stood next to the entrance, watching him with observant eyes. When they walked towards the prepared picnic blankets, Crowley slipped Castiel a note. He could see Castiel's jaw tense at the display of such 'unlawful conduct' and smiled.

Eleanor must have seen and completely misinterpreted it. She whispered to him when he sat down next to her on the blanket, a sigh in her voice: "He is a pretty one, isn't he?"

At least the silly goose had working eyes.

~

A gust of wind rushed past Crowley, sending shivers down his spine. He pressed his hands deeper into his pockets and tucked his head between his shoulders until he resembled a turtle. Why, for all that was holy and unholy on this earth and below, did he agree to Castiel's idea? He could lie in his bed right now, preferably with Eleanor. She had asked for further… companionship. And who was Crowley to deny a lady's wishes? But no… instead he was freezing off his behind, standing around in the pitch-black dark in the middle of the night. He was waiting for Castiel, who'd told him to wait near the stables for him during their daily meeting.

He brushed some paint chips off his blazer, where he had grazed the house wall in a futile attempt to hide from the wind. The paint job on this house was a great metaphor for his mood.

"Don't you dare not showing up or there will be another crime to investigate and you won't be around anymore to do so!" he grumbled under his breath, trying not to chatter his teeth, when just a moment later, Castiel appeared next to him, startling Crowley to no end.

"What the-"

"Quiet." He grabbed Crowley by the shoulder and dragged him to the nearest greenery.

"I will not sit inside a bush all night."

"It shouldn't take long but I don't want her to see us."

"And you're really sure that other girl… Mary, told you the truth?"

"Claudette leaves the servant's quarters regularly. Always in the middle of the night. Never tells anyone about it. Always looks like she really doesn't want to be caught doing so." That was unusual behaviour for a maid and their only lead since… well. Since they had wanted to arrest each other.

With renewed interest, Crowley crouched next to Castiel. He had an excellent view of the stable entries. "And goes… to the stables?"

"That's just a guess. Mary tried to follow her but lost her around here."

"I see… Wake me when the sun goes up."

Apparently Crowley just needed to complain loud enough, because not a moment later, he could hear footsteps.

At least that girl wasn't a quiet ghost in the dark of night, like his "partner" was. How Castiel could sneak up on him so easily was unnerving. Maybe he was a proper and prim boy, but he would make a hell of a shadow.

And indeed, a young woman in servant's clothing appeared. Her eyes searched her surroundings urgently. Was she searching for someone? Was she making sure she was alone? She looked quite distressed when she continued towards the stables.

That was the kind of suspicious they were looking for, and Crowley was ready for the hunt.

Next to him, Castiel began to move, and Crowley followed his lead as quietly as he could. Castiel, for all his clunky and stiff movements throughout the day, was basically hovering above the floor! At least it appeared like that, based on the lack of footsteps he did - or better - didn't.

Claudette vanished from their view when she went through one of the stable doors.

Instead of following her into the building, both men stopped next to the door, crouching and listening. Crowley had no idea about the layout of the stables; why should he? But he imagined there would be more than one entry.

"Maybe-" Castiel cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. He could barely make out the other man in the pale light of the moon, their only light source. He shook his head and then kept still as a statue.

Crowley kept quiet, listening intently for something other than the typical stable noises and wondering if Castiel had a better idea of the stable's layout. Maybe he had played the stable boy once before.

But he had no time to be amused by his thought, because in that moment, a low, male voice reached his ears. Followed by what Crowley presumed to be the girl's voice.

Followed by noises Crowley could have made right now if he hadn't agreed to meet Castiel for some wild goose chase.

He could feel Castiel shuffling beside him and snorted. "I guess Claudette had other reasons for her 'suspicious behaviour'", he whispered and turned to leave the two lovebirds to their own, when Castiel grabbed his shoulder again.

"What if it's just an act? Maybe she noticed us following her?"

Crowley peeked around the corner and turned back to Castiel. "Then they are very convincing. Unless you want to join the fun, we should leave." He peeked around again. "I mean…"

Castiel made no sound when he turned around to go back inside. Crowley giggled to himself, shoving aside the rising feeling of frustration about another dead end.

~

Crowley watched as Castiel crossed another name off the list with stronger strokes than necessary. Frustration guided his hand. Crowley nodded in agreement, before he asked:

"How many are left?"

He didn't need to ask. Crowley had memorised the list at first glance and crossed it off by himself as their investigation went along.

"The butler, Cecil, and Lady Bernice Wildingham."

Silence spread over them like a suffocating blanket as both men drowned in the depths of their thoughts.

"The butler is my target" Castiel finally spoke up and closed the booklet. "I could"- "

"What? Ask him directly?"

"Why not? That's one strategy we haven't used so far."

"For good reason. If the thief hasn't run his mouth so far, he will not start now and definitely not to you."

"You're quite talkative to me about your crimes."

"I-" Crowley sat up to stare at Castiel standing in front of the window. "You do remember who's side I'm on, yes?"

"Yours."

"Besides that! We have the same goal. It has worked out so far. Don't start ruining it now by being an idiot!"

"I'm not. I just lay out our options."

"And that's why you need me. Because you don't look at all the options. Unlike me."

Castiel's face went dark. "I don't like your options."

"That's why there are my options." Crowley stood up and took the booklet from Castiel. He studied the list in hopes of sudden enlightenment. "We need leverage."

"From where?"

Crowley looked up. "We create some ourselves, kitten." He turned the booklet and pointed at Claudette's crossed name. "We use her. I will talk to her, blackmail her to get us what we need."

"Blackmail?" Castiel ripped the booklet out of his hand. "No!"

"Think about it! A house maid is not allowed to have male company of any kind. They can't even be married. And here she is, enjoying the stable boy's company, who has something in common with the horses as far as I could see. If I threaten her to tell the mistress about it, she will get fired and without any letter of recommendation."

"That would ruin her life!"

"Only if I follow threw with it. Which I won't." Crowley shrugged. "I don't care if she rides the horses herself. I just want the leverage about Cecil we need. No harm will come to her, promise. She'll just miss a goodnight's sleep or two."

~

Thankfully Castiel had agreed, if reluctantly so, and Crowley had a little chat with Claudette, which ended in her instantly spilling everything about Cecil she knew. He had no relations outside of work, no money problems, and no problems fulfilling his duties as a butler. But what he was, was a drunkard who regularly went to the nearest village to buy a drink or two or nine. And drunk people had loose tongues.

Crowley had left a shaken Claudette to plan their next steps with Castiel, and so they ended up on a ride to the same village that Cecil just happened to frequent, too.

"We aren't really ordering new clothes for your, right?" Castiel asked as he tied their horses.

"No. I've enough clothes. No need spending more money on this case than I already have." He mustered Castiel from head to toe. "But we could order you some."

"I don't need that and wouldn't that be suspicious?"

"Not really." Most of the guests believed Castiel was serving Crowley in more ways than usual. Mostly because a good number of them had already come to appreciate his company in one way or another. Why correct people when they make excuses for you?

Castiel pointed at the only building that could be a pub. "Cecil must be in there."

"Thank God I have you."

Unsurprisingly, Castiel was right. They found Cecil sitting at the bar with far too many glasses in front of him. Maybe the innkeeper's way of keeping count of the butler's tap.

"Remember. Get him to talk. Don't talk more than you have to" Crowley reminded Castiel. He was sure he'd regret leaving the interrogation to the runner boy. But Castiel would be less suspicious than Crowley. "Your turn. I'll wait outside."

He hoped Castiel wouldn't take too long. The sun was already close to the horizon, and Crowley didn't intend to freeze outside in the dark again.

Crowley wasn't long outside the door, when he could hear turmoil inside the pub.

"You didn't start a fight, you son of a-" The turmoil erupted into complete chaos when Crowley opened the door. Most of the patrons had fled to the edges of the room, as far away from the fight as possible. Which resulted in broken glass and overturned chairs and tables. The fighters, a handful of men, continued to add to the chaos. And Castiel was in the middle of it all.

Crowley had no intention to intervene or to support Castiel, who was fighting two strangers and the butler. He didn't need to, because despite the three to one disadvantage on Castiel's side, the Bow Street Runner dominated the fight. Just this moment, he evaded one punch and hit the attacker in his face in return, before he dodged another punch from the opposite direction.

The innkeeper was nowhere to be seen, and so Crowley claimed one of the unattended bottles, one of the remaining unbroken glasses, and settled at one of the standing tables.

While Crowley poured himself a glass, Castiel knocked the second stranger out, who landed next to the already unconscious first stranger, leaving Cecil and Castiel as the last men standing. Cecil barely held himself on his feet. Castiel was dancing. With swift, fluent motions, he dodged the fumbling attempt at an attack and grabbed Cecil by his collar.

Crowley watched, mesmerised, as Castiel slammed Cecil's face into the bar and threw him in Crowley's direction.

Castiel kept Cecil from getting up by putting one foot on his chest. "Talk."

Crowley took a sip to wet his dry throat.

"I did it! I did it!" Cecil screamed. His voice was tumbling over itself. "I stole from the Lady! But found only the old ones!"

Confusion, mirroring Crowley's thoughts, spread across Castiel's face. "Old ones?"

"The diaries. Lady's diaries. That's what you're asking about, right?"

Confusion gave way to frustration, and the glimmer of hope was extinguished.

Crowley sat back and emptied his glass at once. He had lost all interest.

Castiel took away his boot. "What do you need them for?"

"The master asked me to look for them. I don't know why."

"Go."

The butler took the hint and left in a hurry. Castiel kept standing next to Crowley. If he wanted to keep up the pretence of being a servant, or if he expected another fight, Crowley couldn't tell. But Castiel didn't look like someone who had just escaped a fight completely unscathed. He was as calm as ever. And that agitated Crowley more than another fight itself.

"Your turn. It's almost night. Your invitation ends soon and so we don't have much time."

Crowley looked up at Castiel. "What do you mean?"

"The master, Lord Wildingham, is suspicious of his wife. If he sends us both to investigate, who says he didn't send the butler also?"

"And?"

"And Cecil said, he only took the old ones."

"Which means there has to be new ones you want me to find."

"Exactly."

Crowley poured himself another drink.

"You should drink less."

"You should nag less." He took a sip. "Let me think."

"You can think in the ride home. The Lady will go to bed soon. If you want to ask her for the diaries, we don't have much time left!"

Crowley's smile spread slowly across his face as an idea formed in his mind. "Oh, kitten… You are absolutely right. The Lady will go to bed soon. And that is exactly what I need."

~

Castiel jumped as the diary hit the table with full force. Crowley wasn't sorry.

"Nothing!"

Castiel looked out at him from tired eyes. It had been the middle of the night when he had called for the "valet" and presented him with two diaries, freshly stolen from under the nose of the sleeping Lady Wildingham.

Crowley jumped from his chair and began pacing back and forth in his quarters.

"This can't be! It's the last day of this bloody gathering and we are out of options!"

The diaries proved useless. The lady was talking a lot about her affairs with various men. And if she didn't write about that, she droned on and on about her clothes not being the quality she wanted, either in trim or colour or cloth… Such unimportant drivel!

"That or you're an excellent liar."

Crowley stopped staring at Castiel. "Excuse me? I am an excellent liar, but continue?"

"We excluded everyone attending the gathering, including the servants. Which makes me think I was right in the first place."

"Right? You are aware, kitten, that I could say the same thing?"

"I'm not a criminal."

"Neither am I!" The 'anymore' hung heavy in the air.

Crowley noticed how Castiel's hand wandered towards his pocket, where Crowley knew his gun to be.

"I didn't see you being helpful at collecting evidence. Only eavesdropping and watching all the time. And when you finally got your wits together to talk to anybody, it led to the maid screwing the stable boy or the drunkard of a butler starting a fight in the pub!"

"We agreed on focusing on our strengths."

"And yet, it let to nothing." Crowley hissed dangerously low. Unlike his shouting, which raised the hair on Castiel's neck. He could see it in the change in Castiel's face. "Almost like you don't want it to. Because it would lead to you. And your whole good boy persona was a facade, too."

Castiel rose from his seat. "That would make me a better liar than you."

Crowley was taken aback, just staring at Castiel. He definitely made a fool of himself. "An absolute impossibility."

He averted his gaze, deeply in thought, but that didn't keep him from noticing that Castiel slipped his hand into his pocket. And Crowley was acutely aware that his gun was not on his person. Had he let his guard down too much? Maybe, but he had more important things to consider than Castiel. Something was bothering him about that whole affair. He missed something, just out of his sight. But what? He started pacing again, but this time, slowly and deeply in thought.

Castiel watched him closely, not letting go of the gun.

"Nothing adds up," Crowley mumbled to himself. "He is an imbecile. The only one capable is me and I didn't do it…" Suddenly, Crowley stopped in his tracks and turned towards Castiel, who drew his gun. "That's the answer!"

"What?"

"Think! Just once! What did you say that let to that ridiculous argument?"

"That there are no suspects left and-"

"Exactly! There is no one that could have done it! Which concludes?"

"That you-"

"I've said think! I could have killed you so many times by now, to cover my tracks and run. But look who's still able to talk nonsense."

Castiel's resolve faltered. He lowered his gun. "If there are no culprits… there is no crime."

Crowley nodded. "There is no crime."

"Someone outside this house could have done it." Castiel argued.

"Yes, yes. You are right. That would be a possibility, if our dear employer didn't have such a pressing motive."

"A motive to do what? We were hired to solve a crime. Why hire us if there was no crime?"

Crowley's smile reminded Castiel of a cat circling its prey, ready to pounce. "Now you're asking the right question. And the answer is simple."

Castiel put away the gun, anger spreading across his face. Yes, finally something Crowley could use. "We were used to covering up another crime: insurance fraud. There never was a theft. The jewels never went missing. We wasted all that time and effort for nothing."

"But why? What makes you so sure he did it and that there is no outsider, who committed the crime?"

"You look but you don't see, kitten." Crowley pointed at the diaries. "The quality of the clothes are not to the Lady's standard." He pointed at the wall. "The paint on the walls is flaking, old and cheap." He pointed outside. "The park and everything in it look like they haven't seen a gardener for a while." He pointed at Castiel. "Which concludes?"

"Money problems."

"Exactly!"

"We must go back. Arrest our employer. Find the jewels." Castiel immediately started packing Crowley's belongings. Crowley didn't move.

"What? Are you daft?"

Castiel stopped packing.

"No? Despite all your exclamations otherwise. What else is there to do?"

Crowley shrugged. "Nothing. Take the loss and leave. Do you really want to go after a noble man? Why do you care? Nobody died. No one got hurt. Besides my pride."

"It's a crime."

"It's not worth it! Too much hassle for what? We won't get paid either way!"

"You won't. But that's beside the point. He has committed a crime, and it is our duty to do what's right."

"Your duty, you mean. I do what I get paid for." Crowley ripped his clothes out of Castiel's hands and threw them in the suitcase. "And I got paid nothing. Now off with you, serving justice or whatever choir boys are doing."

Crowley could see the disappointment in Castiel's face and the resignation. But he would be damned if he threw himself into another hornet's nest 'for the greater good' or whatever nonsense Castiel was spewing.

"Fine."

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

"If you change your mind…" Castiel put his introduction card on top of Crowley's luggage.

And left for good.

~

Crowley had cut his losses and gone back to London. He had to admit he missed his little adventure. Not that London wasn't full of debauchery and decadence itself, but the prim and proper facade of the countryside lodgings gave it a very lovely contrast. It invited people to do more secretive things than the largeness and pseudo-anonymity of London. The people from the countryside where the same making up the ton after all. Places change, but people? People never did. And that's why Crowley was sitting inside his usual pub, listening to the chitchat of the surrounding customers while waiting for a new employment. He didn't need an official address for people to find him. If they needed his help, they would find him and, in some cases, he would find them. It always pays to have your ears and eyes open.

That's what led to Crowley spotting the tall man in a coat immediately. He looked around the room, searching, until his intense blue eyes met Crowley's and he could see the spark of recognition going off.

Castiel looked as surprised as Crowley felt. So, the choir boy was not here for him. Crowley pushed the tingling feeling of disappointment aside and forced himself to smile. Whatever brought one of the Bow Street Runners to this pub could either end in an arrest, a fight or both. And Crowley had no interest in any of the options. He gestured Castiel to join him and he did. Crowley hadn't expected him to follow that easily.

"And what brings you here? It's not me, that's clear."

"The case." Castiel said as he sat down opposite him.

"Case?"

"The one you abandoned. My leads brought me here."

"Which led you into my territory. I am surprised you haven't asked me for help already, since you're clearly out of your dept."

"I can't and won't pay for help."

Crowley chuckled. "But you are able to learn. Good to know." He leaned forward, keeping his voice low when he continued. "You better leave. Your lot is not welcome around here."

Castiel looked around, confused. "It looks like a respectable establishment, not some shabby pub in Whitechapel."

"And that makes you think people like police more? The higher their status, the more they have to lose. They think you're here because of me. And that's why you shouldn't talk to anybody but me."

"But I'm on the case!"

"Give me the information and leave it to me. We'll meet later." Crowley pictured Castiel's card that lay on his desk. "I know where to find you."

"No. I will not pay you."

"Oh, kitten… sometimes, money is not everything."

"I don't understand."

"A favour can be worth more than money. And you owing me sounds like fun."

He took a sip from his drink as he watched Castiel think about his offer.

"I don't know the extent of the favour."

"Nothing bad. I'm a private detective, remember? I'm sure your resources could help me in the future."

Castiel nodded. "Agreed." He took out his black booklet and put it on the table in front of Crowley. They didn't need to say anything else. Crowley was more than accustomed with the booklet to understand.

Castiel rose from his seat, nodded and left.

Crowley watched him go and released the chuckle he held the whole time. A lie. All of it. The pub was as respectable as Castiel had imagined; the only reason Crowley didn't frequent an even more exquisite establishment like a gentleman's club was its exclusivity. At least he had something to do and was definitely better than sitting and waiting in boredom.

He emptied his drink as he opened the booklet and started reading.

Castiel's notes explained what the policeman had looked for in the pub: a banker, who regularly frequented the establishment. According to Castiel's research, Lord Wildingham stored some "important possessions" at one of the banker's safe-deposit boxes. Crowley knew how that worked. No matter what the content of said boxes, the privacy of the customer was secure, so nobody but the Lord would know of its content. It wasn't a very subtle hiding place for something that was supposed to be stolen, but it didn't need to be. Castiel could only enter the depot with proof that the Lord was a criminal and without the content of the box, he couldn't prove that the Lord was a criminal. And if Castiel would present the jewels, it was clear he had gained possession of them through illegal means. Good thing, Crowley had more options at hand, and he was willing to use them.

And so, he walked down a street not far from the bank in question, when a street urchin bumped into him. He barely felt anything, when the boy put something into the pocket of his blazer. When he entered the bank Mr Ambrose greeted him, with the intimacy of regular pub companions.

"Mr. Crowley! What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Ambrose", he greeted back and took off his cylinder. "I'm here to retrieve something of mine." He took out a key from his pocket and showed it to Ambrose.

"Well of course." The banker took the key without any questions, like the number of the box. Crowley couldn't have answered any of them. "Follow me."

After some lighthearted talk about the weather, recent sports events and a quick goodbye, accompanied by a healthy tip, Crowley walked out of the bank with a box under his arm and a feeling of accomplishment in his chest.

~

Never in his life, Crowley could have imagined entering the police building without any cufflinks around his wrists and a policeman on each side. But he did not only that, but he also explicitly looked for one of them and it didn't take him long to find him. Castiel stood in the entrance hall, accompanied by two giants Crowley presumed to be his colleagues.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Would you be so kind to lend me a moment with one of yours, please?" The tallest and also the youngest looked at him with suspicion. He was as tall as a moose! The slightly shorter and still too tall one looked at Crowley with curiosity. Any woman would be jealous of his eyelashes.

Finally, Castiel turned around, took notice of the box and nodded sharply. Without a word to anyone, he moved deeper inside the building. The other men didn't even flinch. Good to know, he was always that… interesting. Crowley followed and when he entered one closet of an office, Castiel closed the door behind him.

"Lovely. You could almost extend your arms in here." He put the box on the desk while Castiel sat down in his chair. Crowley occupied the one opposite him.

"What's in the box?"

"Chickens, made of rubber. What do you think?"

Castiel ignored him and opened the box and gave side of a collection of pretty and very expensive jewels. "They match the description exactly." He looked up. "Are they real?"

"Do you think I would pay so much money for forgery of this quality?"

"No." Crowley had to teach Castiel the concept of rhetorical questions sometime. "Let's arrest him."

"With what evidence?"

Castiel nodded towards the jewels. "That."

Crowley looked at the box in thought. Castiel may be too principled to do anything worthwhile with its content, but Crowley had far bigger plans, and he came prepared.

"And how did you get them? Because you don't want to know how I got them." Crowley sighed theatrically and got up. "Doesn't matter. I did my part of the bargain and I will collect yours, when I need to."

"I'm sure you have an idea what to do."

"Probably."

Castiel stared at Crowley for a moment. "You would blackmail him."

"Of course I would! You cannot arrest him, since you basically stole them - well, I did, but that's an unimportant detail. But you can convince him to avoid a scandal by paying you a good sum of money for your silence."

"He could threaten me."

"Remember, what I told you: higher status means more to lose. What's a little bit of money when he made so much more with his fraud?"

"No."

"Of course not. That's why you have to arrest Lord Wildingham." Crowley took out his introduction card and put it on top of the jewels. Castiel had to find him to work off his favour. "But that is not my concern. Good day."

He was almost out of the office when Castiel called him back. "Stop!"

"What?"

"I have an idea, but I need your help."

Crowley looked at him skeptically. "I think you misunderstood. You owe me a favour not the other way around."

"My idea will satisfy us both."

Slowly, Crowley sat back down, careful to appear disinterested. "I'm listening, barely." To underline his words, he took out a flask, took a sip and offered it to Castiel.

"No."

"Do you ever drink?"

"Not on duty."

"Are you ever off duty?"

"Not, while working with criminals."

That got him a low chuckle. "Never let your guard down when fraternising with the enemy, hm?"

"Back to topic. As you've said: With the situation as it is, we cannot act first. We have to lay a trap and wait for him to walk into it."

~

Crowley looked at his former employer, who sat opposite him. He had sent for Lord Wildinham, promising news about his case. As expected, the Lord had arrived not long after in his study. He too would be curious to know what news there could be about a crime that never happened.

Between them lay an open box, exposing the supposedly stolen jewels. They didn't have to exchange words. Both men knew they were in a very delicate situation.

"I'm sure, we can come to an agreement satisfying both parties." Crowley cut through the silence.

Lord Wildingham, an elderly man just past his prime, with quite the fondness for food, nodded. He looked like someone had smeared faeces under his nose.

"Before we start… may I ask what you'd expected would happen?"

"What do you mean?" Wildingham's voice was pressed as if he was choking on one of his chins.

"By hiring me? Why hire me in the first place?"

"What else was there to do? To make the theft look convincing I had to alert the authorities."

"I'm no authority."

"No…" Wildingham laughed. An ugly sound full of vitriol. "But you are the perfect suspect to be arrested by those Bow Street Runner imbeciles that call themselves the authority. They wouldn't have found the jewels but what for when you can arrest a less than trustworthy individual like you? It would have been a small consolation for me, but who cares for money as long as justice is served, heh?"

"Turns out, I'm too clever for your own good."

Wildingham's good humour disappeared in an instant. "What do you want? Money?"

"If mere money was my desire, I would have kept the jewels."

"Than what do you want?" Wildingham's head was turning an alarming shade of strawberries and a vein strained at his temple.

"Revenge."

"What?"

Crowley turned towards the door and raised his voice. "Come in!" And on his command, Castiel appeared inside the study, accompanied by the two colleagues Crowley recognised from the station.

"Lord Wildingham, you are under arrest for insurance fraud. Get up and put your hands where I can see them."

"Officer! He stole my jewels! Look!" Wildingham got up, but instead of raising his hands he grabbed the box and shoved it in Castiel's face.

"They never were stolen in the first place. We just heard you confess it."

Wildingham's grin was disgustingly sweet. "You were deceived, officer. He stole them and then convinced you they were never stolen in the first place. How else would he have them in his possession? And let's be realistic… who will judge and jury believe? Me? An honourable Lord or…" he gestured vaguely at Crowley's direction. "This?"

Crowley had to give him credit. The shimmer of doubt in the policemen's expressions was proof his words had some effect. But Crowley, as always, came prepared.

"Impressive." Sarcasm dripped off his voice as he clapped slowly. "But I didn't steal them from anywhere. I never even saw them."

"What are you talking about?" Wildingham held the box towards him. "They are right here!"

Crowley took his chance, grabbed the jewels and threw them on the desk. Ignoring Wildingham's surprised screams and the noise of drawn guns, Crowley took out a hammer from his desk drawer. "Don't shoot. The only one hurt here will be them." With that, he smashed the jewels with his hammer multiple times, until nothing but small fragments of glass remained. "Fake." Crowley dropped the hammer and enjoyed the look on Wildingham's face. "Nothing but glass and cheap metal. I had them made after your description just for this moment."

He leaned over the desk staring directly into Wildingham's face that lost all colour. "Nobody takes me for a fool."

~

"Well done, kitten." Crowley raised his glass. "A toast to your success and your promotion."

Castiel, who sat in the armchair next to Crowley's, raised his glass in equal manner. "A toast to your revenge and your profit."

"Profit?" Crowley watched Castiel's face closely. The light from his living room's fireplace placed shadows on his face, making his blue eyes glow in the dim firelight.

"They won't find more than the jewels inside the bank, right?"

"I'm sure they will."

"And what won't they find?"

A smile tugged at Crowley's lips, and he hid it with a sip from his glass. "If there is something missing, I'm sure, the Lord will tell you."

He could feel Castiel's eyes on his skin and he wasn't sure if they or the fire caused the tingling sensation.

"Did you pretend to steal the jewels so I would ask you for help?"

"I had to create a dilemma that you couldn't solve without me, yes. But I didn't expect you to come prepared with such a lovely idea."

Castiel nodded and took a sip from his glass before he continued. "I have to confess something."

Crowley stayed silent, hanging on those sinful lips.

"Back in the pub, I didn't look for the banker. I looked for you." Their eyes met.

"Continue." Crowley's voice was rougher than usual as he spoke.

"I knew I would never be able to arrest Wildingham. Not without your help. I also know that you lied to me that day because that was not my first visit. But I played along to give you an excuse to help me. I hope you got yourself the 'payment' you wanted."

"Why did you trust me to get you the jewels and not just take them?"

Castiel shrugged. "Intuition?"

"You still owe me."

They played each other, and both got what they wanted. He had underestimated Castiel. But it didn't make him angry. Crowley was… excited.

Castiel raised his glass again. "Would you mind toasting to us working together?"

"Now or in the future?"

"Both?"

Crowley raised his glass. "Both."