Chapter Text
The sky was dark and the weather was frightful. Ichabod Crane had just finished another night of work and was heading back home to his New York apartment, where he'd look over his writings from the day and connect clues that would allow him to solve the case at hand. Of course, there was no case at the moment, so all he had to show for his work were a few reports on theft and public intoxication.
With a sigh, Ichabod pushed open the front door to the front room, where the landlord, Clarence Brown, sat behind a large desk looking through papers. When he heard the door open, he quickly looked up and squinted; He was an older man of 53, who's vision was already failing him.
"Is that you, Constable Crane?" he asked as he adjusted his glasses.
"The one and only, good sir."
The landlord gave the young man a fond smile and sat the papers in his hands down in front of him. "I haven't seen you quite some time. I've been on vacation, as you know."
Ichabod nodded his head and waited patiently for the man to continue, which he did. "But apparently, you've got some new neighbors upstairs."
"Indeed, I do. A single mother with two children and another one on the way," Ichabod replied. "She's a very nice woman."
Brown nodded his head. "But she isn't the only one now."
"Pardon?"
"Just this evening, a fellow came in demanding a room," Brown explained. "He slammed more money than I could count on the desk, I handed him the key to the room next to yours, and I haven't seen him since."
Ichabod frowned, but said nothing more than a quiet 'Have a good evening' before heading upstairs, his briefcase held tightly in his hand.
~~~
Ichabod pushed open his apartment door and quickly shut it behind him, locking it as well. He sat hid briefcase down and unbuttoned his overcoat, which he quickly threw off and put on the back of the couch. He was quick to undo his vest as well and let out a low groan when he was finally released from the constricting layers of clothing. You would've thought that he'd grown accustom to the clothing, but no. They were just as annoying as ever and with the kind of weather they were having that year, it made Ichabod hate his superiors more than he had when they'd sent him to Sleepy Hollow, hoping to get rid of him.
He undid the first three buttons on his shirt and sat down in the chair in front of the small fireplace, where he thought of the past year: He'd been sent to a town barely anyone knew about; he'd gotten into an argument (if that's what you'd like to call it) on his first evening there; he'd fallen in love only to be forced to forget about her, and he returned a head to a headless ghost.
The sudden thought of the Hessian provoked something deep down inside of Ichabod, which made his face heat up and his heart rate quicken, casing his heart to drum against his rib cage. He'd replayed that night in his mind multiple times, and every time, he focused on the Hessian more and more. Those icy blue eyes that had sent shivers down his spine when he first saw them, those sharply filed teeth that filled Ichabod with fear but at the same time wonder, and the shaggy hair that was no better than his own unruly hair. He remembered what had happened as soon as the skull was placed in its rightful place, and he shivered in slight disgust.
But he was suddenly pulled out of his own little world when there was a harsh knock on his door. He was quick to button up his shirt before standing up and walking over to the wooden door that squeaked every time you even barely touched it.
"Who is it?" Ichabod asked, hesitantly grabbing the doorknob in his shaking hand.
"Constable Crane? It's Young Masbath, from Sleepy Hollow," a familiar voice replied. "I've come with a message from Katrina Van Tassel."
Ichabod pulled the door open and in front of him, was the boy who had only one year ago claimed that he would avenge his father after his death. Masbath had grown a good amount in the past year and now he stood eye to eye with Ichabod.
"Young Masbath," Ichabod breathed out in shock. "I-I wasn't expecting to see you here in New York."
The younger male grinned. "I wasn't planning on coming to New York, but there's some urgent news that Miss Katrina trusted no one but me to deliver to you." The boy held out a letter with the Van Tassel seal, unbroken.
"You-... You have not read the letter," Ichabod said in slight disbelief. "But, that much is expected from a well-brought up boy of your kind."
Young Masbath nodded his head. "Not just that, sir, but I don't need to read the letter to know why Miss Katrina has written it."
"You don't?"
"No, sir, for I have witnessed exactly what caused her to write to you."
At that point, Ichabod broke the Van Tassel seal and opened the letter. He read through it, becoming more worried about the town and its residents with each line. At the end, he looked up from the letter, nothing but pure fear and shock in his eyes.