*comment /// temp variables and other
*set started_game true
*set chapter 1


*comment *goto lookAtLestrade
*comment *goto lookAtLestrade

*comment Skip to chapter 3?
*comment *fake_choice 
*comment #No
*comment #yes
*comment *set chapter 0
*comment *goto_scene chapter2


*page_break
*comment [b]Chapter 1[/b]
*line_break

*text_image chapter1.png center Chapter-1

*page_break

*image Intro-Lestrade-letter.png center

[i]RAPID POST COMMUNICATIONS
*line_break
~ Her Majesty's Justices, C.I.D ~ [/i]

To. Apt 3, 221B Baker St.
*line_break
22/9 - 18XX

*comment To. Apt 3, 221B Baker St.
*comment *line_break
*comment September. 22th, 18—.

[i]Find me within the small alleyway in Redbrick Square, 3rd left.
*line_break
—Man murdered—
*line_break
You need to see this. Hurry.
*line_break
G.L.[/i]
*page_break

The carriage was quick, but the pace insufficient. 'Hurry', the letter said. What if this is the murder of a lifetime, and you miss it?

To you, this message held a promise of excitement, of a proper case. An escapade like the one you've been searching for all these dull months. The thought of finally having some entertainment thrilled you beyond reason. 

But, what if this is another disappointment? What if this is the irreversible setback that finally sends you to the grave?

*page_break

The problem is this: you have been utterly, blindingly, soul-crushingly bored. A million others have claimed boredom before, but none with such conviction as you. If the dose makes the poison, your boredom is close to fatal. And with your way of coping for lack of cases, that could be soon.

Nothing has appeared, neither mystery nor plight, that has captured your mind and showered you with the familiar rush of excitement and motivation that you crave, not for months. That is the reason for your troubles. And your reaction to the many cases of misplaced husbands, roaming cats, and squandered wealth has been to cope in unhealthy ways.

*label cope1C1

How do you usually cope?
*fake_choice
	#Smoke like a chimney.		
		*set cope "smoking"
		You cope by smoking—
		
		—and while that quiets the boredom to only a light scratching at the back of your occipital lobe, the distraction is momentary. Too quickly does the rush of tobacco dissipate. Then the restless and stalking feeling is back—first, a tap. Then the flood. 
		
		The solution to then repeat the cycle, ad nauseam, is not sustainable. At least, that is what Watson says. There are cigars, cigarettes, chew—and the classic, the pipe. Yet Watson says all these have "dangerous" effects on your health. Apparently, you have started wheezing when climbing the stairs to your apartment, maybe you sometimes cough a bit, and occasionally black tar bits have exited mid-cough… 
		
		*gosub copeReturnC1

		*page_break
		
		So, perhaps you are not coping well. Despite the help of your smoking, the need for increasing indulgences might lead to your destruction. Still, life has been a series of never-ending disappointments lately. It seemed like the only way to cope.
		
	#Eat. Everything.
		*set cope "eating"
		You cope by eating everything—
		
		—and while that quiets the boredom to only a light scratching at the back of your occipital lobe, the distraction is momentary. 
		
		Soon, the restless and stalking feeling is back—first, a tap. Then the flood. The solution to repeat the eating cycle, ad nauseam, is not sustainable. This is primarily because of the current trend of eating alum laced baked goods, lead confections, and liberally pouring boracic acid into the milk.
		
		[i]Let's not even mention what's inside the meringues.[/i]
		
		*gosub copeReturnC1

		*page_break
		
		So, perhaps you are not coping well. Despite the help of your eating, the need for dangerous indulgences might lead to your destruction. Still, life has been a series of never-ending disappointments lately. It seemed like the only way to cope.

	#Prescribed 'substances'.
		*set cope "taking drugs"
		You cope with "medications"—

		—it is almost all legal. Though not highly recommended. Still, it quiets the boredom to only a light scratching at the back of your occipital lobe. A momentary respite you welcome with open arms. 

		Sadly the distraction is simply that, momentary. 

		Soon, the restless and stalking feeling is back—first, a tap. Then the flood. The solution to then continue indulging is not sustainable. Primarily because of the wide range of available legal substances, many with risks and side-effects too unexplored to submit to ad infinitum. Effects such as the irregular fainting spells and affected vision you've been having lately...
		
		*gosub copeReturnC1

		*page_break
		
		So, perhaps you are not coping well. Despite the help of your medications, the need for increasing indulgences seems to lead to destruction. Still, life has been a series of never-ending disappointments lately. It seemed like the only way to cope.

	#I take it out on everyone around me.
		*set cope "berating"
		You cope with verbal abuse—
		
		—when boredom strikes you, people know to stay away. Only sadness awaits if one fails to relocate. Your words have said to turn so cutting and precise, not to mention shockingly accurate, that even the most solid mind crumbles. On most occasions, you deliver an analysis of all the weakest points and sorest spots the individual possesses, all said in a tone uncaring of the frailty of the human ego and self-image. If emotional slaughter had a word, it would forever be named after you. 

		However, you do not hurt the people for the sake of hurting. Analysing the victims distracts you for a moment from the boredom, and the catharsis of spewing the unspoken truth feels freeing at the moment. 
	
		Do you care that your words hurt people in these moments?
		*fake_choice
			#Yes.
				You do care if you hurt other people, but—
			
				—nevertheless, you seem unable to stop. The verbal butchery is your coping mechanism, chosen or not. And shortly after, the restless and stalking feeling is back—first, a tap. Then the flood. The solution to then continue indulging is not sustainable. Primarily because of the alienating effect the cope has, there will soon be none left to assault.

			#No.
				No. You don't care that you are hurting other people—
				
				—not that it would matter, as you seem unable to stop. The verbal butchery is your coping mechanism, chosen or not. And shortly after, the restless and stalking feeling is back—first, a tap. Then the flood. The solution to then continue indulging is not sustainable. Primarily because of the alienating effect the cope has, there will soon be none left to assault.

			#I've never thought about it much...
				You haven't really reflected on the other people's feelings in these moments—
				
				—not that it would matter, as you seem unable to stop. The verbal butchery is your coping mechanism, chosen or not. And shortly after, the restless and stalking feeling is back—first, a tap. Then the flood. The solution to then continue indulging is not sustainable. Primarily because of the alienating effect the cope has, there will soon be none left to assault.

			#Depends on the person.
				Sometimes, depending on the person, you do care, but—
				
				—still, you seem unable to stop. The verbal butchery is your coping mechanism, chosen or not. And shortly after, the restless and stalking feeling is back—first, a tap. Then the flood. The solution to then continue indulging is not sustainable. Primarily because of the alienating effect the cope has, there will soon be none left to assault.
				
		*gosub copeReturnC1

		*page_break
		
		So, perhaps you are not coping well. Despite the help of your berating, the need for further indulgences will leave you helpless. Still, life has been a series of never-ending disappointments lately. It seemed like the only way to cope.

			
	#Gambling... It's a bit of a problem.
		*set cope "gambling"
		You cope by gambling.
		
		The science of mathematical probability is new, yet you understand well enough that gambling is not a game you win by skill or even chance. But it [i]is[/i] a distraction. 

		While you might win a game of cards, the tables of roulette and dice are equally enticing; Yet, they never seem to be in your favour. So you throw the dice again and again—forgetting every nagging sensation of boredom. Then the money for the day, or week, or month, is squandered, and the restless and stalking feeling is back—first, a tap. Then the flood.

		The solution to then continue indulging is not sustainable, or even possible, with money being a finite resource in your situation. Betting the shirt off your back or Watson's clock only happens once. Consequently, there you are, back at the baccarat table, with borrowed money, hoping for a moment of excitement and a bit of luck to extend the inevitable.
	
		*gosub copeReturnC1

		*page_break
		
		So, perhaps you are not coping well. Despite the help of your gambling, the need for further indulgences will soon end with you dead or on the streets. Still, life has been a series of never-ending disappointments lately. It seemed like the only way to cope.
		
	#Experiments. Some nonsensically label them 'unsafe', 'deranged', and 'inhumane'—utter rubbish.
		*set cope "experimenting"
		You cope by... experimenting.		

		Bombs can be amusing. The decomposition of food and flesh can be interesting. You like to tinker. With things, and sometimes, when available, the living. It's [i]research[/i]. And research has value to people, or at least, it should. But instead, the sight or smell makes people run away. And most of the time, your controlled fires send Mrs Hudson into a tissy. 

		Once, an explosion burnt your eyebrows clean off… 
		
		Perhaps it is not always perfectly safe. But you have no other things to distract you.
		Soon the restless and stalking feeling is back—first, a tap. Then the flood. 
		
		The solution to continue indulging in your experiments is not sustainable, as your experiments keep requiring more elaborate schemes to stay engaging. Soon, you will either be homeless, missing a hand, or arrested for immoral and dangerous behaviour.
		
		*gosub copeReturnC1

		*page_break
		
		So, perhaps you are not coping well. Despite the help of your experimenting, the need for increasing indulgences seems to lead to your destruction. Still, life has been a series of never-ending disappointments lately. It seemed like the only way to cope.
		
	#Absinthe and spirits are... helpful, at times.
		*set cope "drinking"
		You cope by drinking—
		
		—and while that quiets the boredom to only a light scratching at the back of your occipital lobe, the distraction is momentary. Too quickly does the lull of alcohol dissipate. Then the restless and stalking feeling is back—first, a tap. Then the flood. 
		
		The solution to repeat the drinking cycle, ad nauseam, is not sustainable. At least, that is what Watson says. There is whiskey, rum, sherry—and your new favourite, absinthe. Yet Watson says all these have "dangerous" effects on your health. Which seems hypocritical when ${j_hi} medicines are stronger than the items in your cupboard. But, apparently, you sometimes stumble around when drinking a smidge too much, and maybe you do or say things that offend, and occasionally you can not leave your bed the day after imbibing…
		
		*gosub copeReturnC1

		*page_break
		
		So, perhaps you are not coping well. Despite the help of your drinking, the need for increasing indulgences apparently might lead to your destruction. Still, life has been a series of never-ending disappointments lately. It seemed like the only way to cope.
		
	#Never leave the room or bed.
		*set cope "inaction"
		When you are affected by boredom, you become apathy and sloth. Beyond the unavoidable and inevitable, you make no movements. People worry. You would, too, were you not too tired to care. Too tired to laugh, go outside, or work towards the betterment of the situation. 
		
		You know it is unhealthy, and it is not what you want, yet changing is entirely beyond your control. And doing nothing doesn't stop the nagging and restless feeling of boredom. But it makes everything less. Feelings and thoughts become quieter, and you can manage your day by not managing at all. You only wake from your lethargy at a promise of real excitement. A good case can shake your mind and body awake—but they rarely come. 
		
		So you sleep, stare at the ceiling, think of nothing and everything, and wish for change. But nothing changes. And from inaction, your body aches, and your mind feels dull. And the cycle of boredom grows worse and worse.
					
		*gosub copeReturnC1

		*page_break
		
		So, perhaps you are not coping well. Despite the help of your inaction, the behaviour seems to slowly whittle your body and mind to nothing. Soon there might be nothing to awaken. But life has been a series of never-ending disappointments lately. It seemed like the only way to cope.
		
	#Lately, I've been near-constantly fencing, climbing, boxing. Apparently, I take risks and am a "danger to myself".
		*set cope "taking risks"
		You cope by living life to the fullest—
		
		—and while that quiets the boredom to only a light scratching at the back of your occipital lobe, the distraction is momentary. Then, too quickly does the rush of adrenaline dissipate. Then the restless and stalking feeling is back—first, a tap. Then the flood. 
		
		The solution to then repeat the cycle, ad infinitum, is not sustainable. At least, that is what Watson says. Recently, you have been fencing, boxing—and your new favourite, mountaineering. Yet Watson says these are dangerous activities. Which seems a bit strong when ${j_he} often talks of the positive health effects of sporting. But, apparently, fencing with real swords is "unsafe", and bare-knuckle boxing is "dangerous for the brain", and climbing without fasteners is "imminent destruction." 
		
		Of course, it's not like you've been seriously hurt; So far you've always survived...

		*gosub copeReturnC1
				
		*page_break
		
		So, perhaps you are not coping well. Despite the help of your risk-taking, the need for further indulgences might lead to your death, or worse, the common blows to the head might affect your ability to perform impressive deductions. Still, life has been a series of never-ending disappointments lately. It seemed like the only way to cope.
		
*goto cope2C1

*label copeReturnC1
*choice
	#$!{cope} is my vice, despite the fraying of my lifeline by its sick support.
		*return 
	#No, this is not my vice. My usual poison is...
		*goto cope1C1


*label cope2C1

But, hopefully, that is soon to be changed. In your hands rests the letter from ${l_him}. While nothing is surprising about the message, except the inspector's elegant handwriting, you hope for a miracle. You do know that no ideal case will ever arrive by post. The medium does not allow for mystery and the teasing of evidence. It's all rushed and unsatisfying. Thus far, not even an average case has appeared through the means of letters. 

But, perhaps, this time, something extraordinary is starting.

*page_break

You sit in the large seat of the hired carriage. It ricochets on the wet stone street. Through the window, you see the coachman pulls at his lapel, and the horses brave the wind. Time is of the essence. Hopefully, the evidence stays intact, though you know London's weather is not known for its mercy. 

Do you call for the coachman to hurry?
*fake_choice
	#I tell the man, politely, that I must arrive 'posthaste'.
		*set driverFirstMeeting "polite"
		—"Excuse me, Sir?" you say through the small open slit in the front. But you are met with no response.

		"SIR!" you shout.

		With a glance and then a nod, the driver finally acknowledges you. Putting on your most polite voice, you ask him, "Would you be so kind as to do your utmost? It is of great importance I arrive posthaste."
		
		The coachman seems to regard you for a few moments, perhaps wondering what would be worth braving the weather and wind. Then he nods again, "I am doing my [i]utmost[/i]${mc_term}. But… I shall try." 
		
		"WHAT?!"
		
		"I SHALL TRY!"
		
		"Good, THANK YOU!"
		
	#I scold the man for dilly-dallying; lives might be at stake.
		*set driverFirstMeeting "scold"
		*set driverRelationship - 1
		—"SIR!" you shout through the small open slit in the front. The driver jumps in his seat, responding with a squeak and a worried glance. 
		
		Your voice takes on a [i]displeased[/i] tone, "Drive faster, you nitwit! Do you not know who I am? Drive faster, or people's deaths will be on your hands!"
		
		The coachman's eyes widen in terror and confusion. He searches your appearance, perhaps to find the truth in your statement compared to the risk of braving the weather and wind. He repeatedly nods, "Course', ${mc_miss}… Will try my utmost. Only, the rain and horses, they"—

		You scowl at the man.

		—"I will get it done${mc_term}." 
		
	#I'd rather not face the driver, and a confrontation might be ineffective.
		You're sure inaction is the correct action—it almost always is.

		Besides, the coachman seems busy. You would rather not disrupt his driving; It's feasible that that would cause him to crash the cab... He probably will urge the horses anyway, if only to get out of the rain. 

		Yes. This is the safest and best approach. You are sure of it.
		
	#That would be too ill-mannered. The coachman seems to be working hard.		
		The man controls 15-hundred pounds of heavy machinery, in motion, with two great beasts in the front; in this weather, or in any weather, it would not be an easy feat. The honourable thing to do is to show patience in cases such as this. Therefore, you will wait and hope the evidence is able to endure a while longer.
		
	#I offer the man another sixpence for a swifter passage. Money invariably makes the world turn.		
		*set driverFirstMeeting "pay"
		*set driverRelationship + 1
		—"Excuse me, Sir?" you say through the small open slit in the front. Yet the coachman does not react.

		"SIR!" you shout.

		The driver finally acknowledges you, responding with a nod and a glance. You tell him, with your most persuasive tone, "If you could push this great carriage to its limit, I will pay you an additional sixpence. What do you say?"
		
		The man seems to regard you for a few moments, perhaps wondering if sixpence would be worth braving the weather and wind. Then he nods again, "Of course${mc_term}. Your wish is my command." 
		
		"Good." You reply.
		
		It is quite remarkable. With enough funds, one could surely accomplish anything. 
		
*page_break

Outside the window, London races by quickly. And there you sit, unable to do anything but linger in your own mind.

*image carriage-ride-chapter1.png center an illustration of 1800s London

*page_break

The afternoon takes the daylight out of your shielded space and adds gloom, yet you do not notice. Neither do you see how, recently, the days have passed more quickly. 

However, you do observe, through the window, the wind shaking the mellowing trees. Leaves altering their hue. And all you reflect on is how their fading green is like a growing pallor, in the very same manner that dying robs the flesh of its blush; how the creeping cold of seasons and death affects both beings and nature. And you daydream about the nature of the murder of the man in the telegram. Naturally, you hope for something new. 

Perhaps this time, the method will be wonderfully bizarre. Preferably complicated and ultimately captivating. Hopefully complex enough to keep you satisfied for long. Not like last time...

*line_break

You remember—
*page_break
[i]You remember—[/i]

*line_break

—Too long ago, there was a case, that enthralled you. It fascinated your very soul. It took your mind and every moment of your day—you awoke every morning with purpose—to play with a new puzzle and compose a new connection. The experiments you performed, the education you had to master. The joy that has been gone since.

What was the case that captivated you so?
*fake_choice
	# There was a brilliant man of science who murdered without remorse.
		—You remember the case of the brilliant scientist.

		Early on, there were signs that the murderer was dangerously clever in practically all manner of science and medicine. He even showed promise in botany and the engineering arts. 

		Frankly, had he been less of a fiend, you might have invited him home for tea and conversation. Instead, he chose to kill people. 		And [i]consequently[/i] you had to intercept.
		
		But it was never easy. The man had technique, flawless in many respects. He managed to elude you for weeks. Merely discovering his identity seemed impossible. But then he slipped up, there were traces of hints, and you overtook him. Nevertheless, the chase was exhilarating... And you have not enjoyed yourself thereafter.
		*set caseType "educated"
	# The proud noble, he who falsely feared no consequences.
		—You remember the case of the proud untouchable noble.
		
		The mystery was not his identity. The killer was him, and from early on, that much was clear. That man could not have kept his extreme depravity hidden should he have tried. Sadly, his station and money kept him safe—for a while—until you caught him. It was challenging. Exhilarating. Had he stayed still only a moment more and kept his pride and patience checked, the man would still walk free. 
		
		You do not delude yourself to think it was an easy hunt to win and escape unharmed, but you did, thankfully. The memory of that thrilling chase remains genuinely cherished... And you have not enjoyed yourself thereafter.
		*set caseType "noble"
	# The poor outcast, depraved, and angry. He who left no trace.
		—You remember the case of the poor and depraved outcast.
		
		He hid in the shadows, kept to the dirtiest and darkest streets. He murdered with terrifying power. There was nothing to find of the killer. He was entangled only in the darkest places that even you can not enter. Perhaps he would not have been caught, had his appetites been sated for longer.  
		
		So came his downfall—you struck towards your opponent in haste—seizing the murderer at the scene. The struggle was difficult, but you won in the end. You still remember the exhilarating chase… And you have not enjoyed yourself thereafter.
		*set caseType "poor"
		
*page_break

—Your recollection is interrupted by the halting of the carriage. 

Then you hear the sound of the coachman jumping down onto the stone. The figure that appears by your door is drenched, yet dirt still clings to his handlebar moustache.

"—There we are${mc_term},"
*if (((driverFirstMeeting = "pay") or (driverFirstMeeting = "polite")) or ((attractive > 2) and (driverFirstMeeting != "scold")))
	the coachman says as he opens the door with unusual fanfare. He smiles lopsidedly with a cupped hand stretched out towards you.
	*goto ch1-1

*else 
	the coachman says as he opens the door with tired movements. He thrusts his cupped hand towards you.
	*goto ch1-1

*label ch1-1

What do you do?
*fake_choice
	#"Much obliged," I say as I give the man ample compensation for his services.
		*set driverRelationship + 2
		—"Much obliged," you say as you hand him two shillings and sixpence. 
		
		The driver smiles wide, displaying five murky teeth under his handlebar-stache. "God-bless-you${mc_term}!" the man says, tipping his tophat, whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. "And be careful now, the locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. Wouldn't want you to get hurt after travelling with ol' Frank." 

		The grimy moustached man moves to the side, allowing exit from the vehicle. On your way out, he, once again, wishes you well. 

		This is a bad area, huh? Interesting…
	#He was not prompt! I give him an [i]economical[/i] sum—while scoffing.
		*set driverRelationship - 1
		—"You, Sir, did not deliver as speedily a journey as was promised!" you say while handing him eighteen-pence and scoffing.
		
		"Now hold on${mc_term}. I was owed two shillings!" the man declares while adjusting his tophat—whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. 

		"And I was owed up-to-date and on-time transportation," you retort.

		The coachman's handlebar covered mouth sneers. "You might want to be careful now. The locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. It'd be bad if you got hurt after travelling with ol' Frank." 

		Then the grimy moustached man moves to the side, letting you exit from the vehicle. On your way out, Frank silently glares at you. 

		This is a bad area, huh? Interesting…
	#I nod at the man and pay him his fare, but no more.
		*set driverRelationship + 1
		—You nod at the man and hand him two shillings. 
		
		"Thank you${mc_term}," the man says, tipping his tophat, whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. "You might want to be careful now, the locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. It'd be bad if you got hurt after travelling with ol' Frank." 

		The grimy moustached man moves to the side, allowing exit from the vehicle. On your way out he tips his hat at you yet again. 

		This is a bad area, huh? Interesting…
	#I place my hand in his. He was surely offering assistance in exiting the carriage, the roads might be slippery after all.
		—You take his hand, though it is far too limp to offer any support in exiting the carriage.
		
		There you stand in multiple moments of quietness, then the man makes a sound you have not heard before. A deep breath of air exits his mouth, strangled by shock. His cheeks turn a shade redder.
		
		…Did he not offer his hand?
		
		"Gosh${mc_term}… I'm flattered, but I'm a married man. It wouldn't be right." The bearded man looks sheepish, with now deep red splotches across his face.
		
		*fake_choice
			*if (driverFirstMeeting != "pay")			 #I hurry to pay the man and avoid his eyes as I exit the carriage.
				—You practically throw the coins at the man in a hurry to get away.  
				
				He catches them, though they bounce three times in the air until he's gotten them steady. "—well, thank you${mc_term}," the man says, tipping his tophat, whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. "Oh! And you might want to be careful now, the locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. It'd be bad if you got hurt after travelling with ol' Frank." 

				The grimy moustached man moves to the side, allowing exit from the vehicle. On your way out, he smiles bashfully. "Have a great day now!" and bids you farewell.

				At least you learned that this is a bad area… That could be worth something?
				
			*if (driverFirstMeeting != "pay") #I try and explain the misunderstanding whilst paying.
				—You quickly hand him the coins and say, "You should know I only thought, that is I believed, you were offering me your hand when you—" 
				
				"No need to explain. Only… I'm married," he interrupts. "If I wasn't, if I was younger or you were older…" His bulging eyes sincerely meet yours. "But alas, my vows under god's roof are eternal. But don't be discouraged—"
				
				The grimy moustached man moves to the side, allowing exit from the vehicle. "—You'll find someone." The driver's smile widens, displaying five murky teeth under his handlebar-stache. He tips his tophat, whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. "Oh! And you might want to be careful now, the locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. It'd be bad if you got hurt after travelling with ol' Frank." 

				On your way out, he smiles bashfully, "Have a great day now!" and bids you farewell.

				At least you learned that this is a bad area… That could be worth something?
				
			*if (driverFirstMeeting = "pay") #I hurry to pay the promised amount and avoids his eyes as I exit the carriage.
				
				—You practically throw the coins at the man in a hurry to get away.  
				
				He catches them, though they bounce three times in the air until he's gotten them steady. "—well, thank you${mc_term}," the man says, tipping his tophat, whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. "Oh! And you might want to be careful now, the locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. It'd be bad if you got hurt after travelling with ol' Frank." 

				The grimy moustached man moves to the side, allowing exit from the vehicle. On your way out, he smiles bashfully. "Have a great day now!" and bids you farewell.

				At least you learned that this is a bad area… That could be worth something?
			
			*if (driverFirstMeeting = "pay") #I try and explain the misunderstanding whilst paying the promised amount.
				
				—You quickly hand him the coins and say, "You should know I only thought, that is I believed, you were offering me your hand when you—" 
				
				"No need to cower. Only, I'm married," he interrupts. "If I wasn't, If I was younger or you were older…" His bulging eyes sincerely meet yours. "But alas, my vows under god's roof are eternal. But don't be discouraged—"
				
				The grimy moustached man moves to the side, allowing exit from the vehicle. "—You'll find someone." The driver's smile widens, displaying five murky teeth under his handlebar-stache. He tipps his tophat, whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. "Oh! And you might want to be careful now, the locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. It'd be bad if you got hurt after travelling with ol' Frank." 

				On your way out, he smiles bashfully. "Have a great day now!" and bids you farewell.

				At least you learned that this is a bad area… That could be worth something?
			
			#Perhaps I can use this to get out of paying...
				—"How ungentlemanly! To raise the hopes and flames of passions, only to quench them so harshly. Badly done, Sir!" Your feigned heartbreak and dramatics seem to have captivated the driver entirely. He looks distraught at having done you such a dishonour.
				
				"Dear me… ${mc_miss}. I do apologise. I never meant, that is to say, I would never seek to seduce or fiddle with anyone's feelings… Please believe me ${mc_miss}!" the man declares while hurriedly adjusting his tophat, whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. 
		
				You retort, "To think I would be so deceived by such a seemingly kind man. You, Sir, are nothing but a cad."

				The coachman's handlebar covered mouth turns to a frown. "Gosh-no, I'm no cad! I only," The man looks uncomfortable with the accusation, his hand wringing and head bowed. "I do apologise… Please, there is no need to pay… It's the least I can do." 
				
				The apologetic moustached man moves to the side, letting you exit from the vehicle. On your way out, he stops you. "Oh, and $!{mc_miss}. The locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. Just thought you should know, It'd be bad if you got hurt after travelling with ol' Frank… and again, I apologise." He tips his hat again and lets you pass. 

				This is a bad area, huh? Interesting…
				
				
			*if (driverFirstMeeting = "pay")			 #I take offence at his insinuating and will pay him less.
				—"Badly done, sir. Insinuating such nonsense. I was merely expecting assistance in exiting the carriage." you say and hand him eighteen-pence.
				
				"Dear me… ${mc_miss}. I do apologise. Had I known, I wouldn't have, I would never… Please believe me ${mc_miss}—Oh, and, I was owed two shillings and sixpence," the man declares while adjusting his tophat whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. 
		
				You retort, "And I was owed a less lecherous driver!"

				The coachman's handlebar covered mouth turns to a frown. "Gosh-no, I'm no Lecher! I only," The man looks uncomfortable with the accusation, his hand wringing and head bowed. "I do apologise… Pay your lesser fair." 
				
				The apologetic moustached man moves to the side, letting you exit from the vehicle. On your way out, he stops you. "The locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. Just thought you should know, It'd be bad if you got hurt after travelling with ol' Frank… and again, I apologise." He tips his hat at you and lets you pass. 

				This is a bad area, huh? Interesting…
				
			*if (driverFirstMeeting != "pay") 			#I take offence at his insinuating and will pay him less.
				—"Badly done, sir. Insinuating such nonsense. I was merely expecting assistance in exiting the carriage." you say and hand him eighteen-pence.
				
				"Dear me… ${mc_miss}. I do apologise. Had I known, I wouldn't have, I would never… Please believe me ${mc_miss}—Oh, and, I was owed two shillings," the man declares while adjusting his tophat, whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. 
		
				You retort, "And I was owed a less lecherous driver!"

				The coachman's handlebar covered mouth turns to a frown. "Gosh-no, I'm no Lecher! I only," The man looks uncomfortable with the accusation, his hand wringing and head bowed. "I do apologise… Pay your lesser fair." 
				
				The apologetic moustached man moves to the side, letting you exit from the vehicle. On your way out, he stops you. "The locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. Just thought you should know, It'd be bad if you got hurt after travelling with ol' Frank… and again, I apologise." He tips his hat at you and lets you pass. 

				This is a bad area, huh? Interesting…

	*if (driverFirstMeeting = "polite") #"Posthaste indeed, sir! This deserves another sixpence for swiftness!" I pay the man well.
		*set driverRelationship + 2
		—"Posthaste indeed, sir! This deserves another sixpence for swiftness!" you say as you hand him two shillings and sixpence. 
		
		The driver's smile widens, displaying five murky teeth under his handlebar-stache. "God-bless-you${mc_term}!" The man says, tipping his tophat, whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. "And be careful now, the locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. Wouldn't want you to get hurt after travelling with ol' Frank." 

		The grimy moustached man moves to the side, allowing exit from the vehicle. On your way out, he, once again, wishes you well. 

		This is a bad area, huh? Interesting…
	*if (driverFirstMeeting = "polite") #"Posthaste indeed, sir! Very well done." Then I pay him the ordinary amount.
		*set driverRelationship + 1
		—"Posthaste indeed, sir! Very well done," you say as you hand him two shillings. 
		
		The driver's smile widens, displaying five murky teeth under his handlebar-stache. "God-bless-you${mc_term}!" The man says, tipping his tophat, whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. "And be careful now, the locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. Wouldn't want you to get hurt after travelling with ol' Frank." 

		The grimy moustached man moves to the side, allowing exit from the vehicle. On your way out he tips his hat at you yet again. 

		This is a bad area, huh? Interesting…
	*if (driverFirstMeeting = "pay") #"Well done, sir. You have earned your reward." I pay him the additional sixpence.
		*set driverRelationship + 2
		—"Well done, sir. You have earned your reward," you say as you hand him two shillings and sixpence. 
		
		The driver's smile widens, displaying five murky teeth under his handlebar-stache. "God-bless-you${mc_term}!" The man says, tipping his tophat, whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. "And be careful now, the locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. Wouldn't want you to get hurt after travelling with ol' Frank." 

		The grimy moustached man moves to the side, allowing exit from the vehicle. On your way out, he, once again, wishes you well. 

		This is a bad area, huh? Interesting…
	*if (driverFirstMeeting = "pay") #"Badly done, sir. I was expecting swiftness." I pay him an [i]economical[/i] sum.
		*set driverRelationship - 3
		—"Badly done, sir. I was expecting swiftness," you say and  hand him eighteen-pence.
		
		"Now hold on${mc_term}. I was owed two shillings and sixpence!" the man declares while adjusting his tophat—whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. 
		
		You retort, "And I was owed on-time transportation."

		The coachman's handlebar covered mouth sneers. "You might want to be careful now. The locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. It'd be bad if you got hurt after travelling with ol' Frank." 

		Then the grimy moustached man moves to the side, letting you exit from the vehicle. On your way out, Frank silently glares at you. 

		This is a bad area, huh? Interesting…
	*if (driverFirstMeeting = "scold") #"If lives truly are lost because of your incompetence, I will return for this fare." I  pay him an [i]economical[/i] sum.
		*set driverRelationship - 2
		—"If lives truly are lost because of your incompetence, I will return for this fare," you say and hand him eighteen-pence.
		
		The man seems stunned for a second, not knowing how to interpret your unusual threat. But quickly rights himself when he finds his hand a bit light. "Now hold on${mc_term}. This is sixpence short!" the man declares while adjusting his tophat—whose rim now only lightly drips by the lessening rain. 

		Moving an inch closer, you answer, "And if you continue to interrupt my business, you will find yourself twenty-four-pence short."

		The coachman's bearded mouth huffs and snarls. "Oh, now—mind your words, the locale hereabouts runs a tad uncivil. How terrible it would be if you got hurt after travelling with ol' Frank... Best to be careful${mc_term}." 

		Despite the thinly veiled threat the grimy moustached man moves to the side, letting you exit from the vehicle. On your way out, Frank silently glares at you. 

		This is a bad area, huh? Interesting…

*goto stepOutOfCarriage

*label stepOutOfCarriage
*page_break

—As you step out of the carriage, you remember your present circumstances. A deep sigh escapes your lips, followed by a hollow sound as you land on the cobblestone. You usually like this part; you used to love this part. 

"Sherlock!" You look up as you hear the voice of the familiar harsh character, ${l_he} who calls you to scenes with death and decay. You used to find it all so fascinating. But that was then, and this is now, and it's been ages since a good case. 

From far away, the ${l_man}  shouts again. $!{l_he}  waves, ${l_hi} arm stretching far above the masses. $!{l_he} seems eager to show you something. That is either ominous or interesting. $!{l_he} has never appeared 'eager' before. 

"Lestrade!" you return while walking towards ${l_him}. Although, with the call and the commotion and the crowd, none of ${l_hi}  beckonings have you arriving any faster. 


*page_break
As you walk down the street, the people stare. Shadows, beggarly and bankrupt, meagre and malnourished. Some ask for money. Others try and shake your composure with threats and teasing, probably for their own amusement. The buildings fare no better. The coachman was right; this is a rough neighbourhood.

Navigating the alleyways, your mind wanders to the situation you find yourself in. How all your hopes depend on Lestrade's judgement. Your sanity hinging on whether you and ${l_he} find the same cases interesting. Should ${l_he} be mistaken, you are back to having to endure the monotony of ordinary life while your soul and mind slowly turn to mush from the tedium. 

Perhaps, because, as of late, promises have been many and disappointment plenty, you should try and temper your expectations. This crime could easily be yet another source of frustration. At the risk of hurting yourself, you may need to steel yourself. The inspector has been wrong before—indeed, often even. Maybe you did not "need" to see this crime. Maybe hurrying was foolish. Maybe Watson was right when ${j_he} said you needed to find a new hobby...

How are you feeling at this moment?
*fake_choice
	#I am in public. Any show of emotion would be improper...
		*set proper %+ 10
		It would not be proper to show how you feel. To express yourself. That is not what is done.
		
		But... you still have emotions, deep down. From below your stomach and to your throat there are burns akin to claw marks of suppressed sentiments. In moments of stifled expression, it threatens to erupt, like bile rising.
		
		Moments like this...


		[i]You need a distraction[/i]. A case. Soon.
	#I feel the need to do some 'coping' right about now.
		*set proper %- 10
		*set ch1ThoughtOfCope true
		The feeling of dread returns, and the hope of a good case to solve your predicament seems unlikely. 
		
		[i]You could find something to help you[/i]
		
		[i]$!{cope} helps you feel better[/i]
		
		[i]What is there to lose, ${mc_name}?[/i]

		You need a distraction. A case. Soon.
		
	#I am in complete control... 
		*set sentimental %- 10
		You got this.
		
		[i]You are in control. [/i]
		
		[i]You are in control… [/i]

		[i]Are you in control? [/i]
				 
		*line_break

		You need a distraction. A case. Soon.
	#I feel emotions [i]dangerously[/i] close to the surface. 
		*set sentimental %+ 10
		Damn. I can't—
		
		[i]Why are you like this?[/i]
		*line_break
		[i]Others can handle boredom, emotions, life.[/i]
		*line_break
		[i]You failure.[/i]

		—You need a distraction. A case. Soon.
		
*page_break
—You need [i]something[/i]—

Then you recall—Lestrade gave you [i]him[/i]. Hence, why you are here, running to the inspector's call. Lestrade once gave you a case worth pursuing; perhaps ${l_he} can do so again. Only this time with an opponent that will leave you satisfied for longer.

*page_break
—You wake from your reminiscing, walking faster to your goal. 
*line_break
[i]This case better be great. [/i]

After trudging through passages, narrow with curious onlookers, you enter the snug alleyway. As you approach, you see the star of the show; you understand the inspector's earlier 'eagerness'. 

There, on the soil and dirt, by the side of stone and earth, lies a body. No. That is not the exciting bit. No—it's what's attached to it: there is an umbrella. Inside of him.
*page_break
[i]—inside of him.[/i]

Perhaps you should call it 'through him', 'into-and-out-of the murdered man', for precision. However, you can't see the exit wound with the victim face-down in the muck, with his back as the umbrella stand. But you still know that the injury will be deep and the umbrella long—long enough for proper penetration. The victim will be young-ish, male, and clean-shaven. The crime will have happened midday, and any trace of a regular investigation will be long gone. You know this because you've seen it before.

He's back.

*goto lestrade

*label lestrade
*temp calledLestradeAnIdiot false
*page_break

"He's not back," Lestrade grumbles. And for a moment you wonder if you said your thought out loud—but you didn't—so the only conclusion is that Inspector ${lestradeName} Lestrade knows you too well. Why could it not be [i]him[/i]?

*if (caseType = "noble")
	"[i]He[/i] is up in Pentonville. His 'superior' connections spared him the noose."
*if (caseType = "educated")
	"[i]He[/i]  is up in Newsgate, the clever shit, a delay with his conviction."
*if (caseType = "poor")
	"[i]He[/i]  is headed for the noose without delay. He's locked-up tight."
—and again Lestrade answers your silent question. "I would know if he escaped, Sherlock. This death is not on him. Can't be."


*choice
	# "Do you suspect a copy-cat, then?"
		*set friendshipL + 1
		—"Do you suspect a copy-cat, then?" you ask.
		
		"I'm still collecting the evidence." Lestrade meets your eyes and then points towards the victim's downturned face. "But
		*goto A1
	# "Spoilsport..."
		*set friendshipL - 1
		*set bickeredL + 1			
		—"Spoilsport…" you chide the inspector.
		
		"Right," Lestrade looks at you with ${l_hi} typical glare, "Should he walk free for your amusement then?" 
		*choice
			# "Absolutely not," I say, sarcastically.
				*set friendshipL - 1
				*set bickeredL + 1
				—"Absolutely not," you say, sarcastically, and placing your hand dramatically over your heart.  
				
				"How amusing," ${l_he} retorts equally sarcastically. 
				
				With that one statement, ${l_he} turns to the dead body, effectively concluding your bickering early. $!{l_he} always does this. Often preferring to "work" instead of verbal sparring. [i]Spoilsport[/i] indeed.
				
				$!{l_he} moves closer to the deceased, pointing towards the victim's downturned face. "Look
				*goto A1	
			# "Absolutely not." (Serious)
				*set friendshipL + 2
				—"Absolutely not," you say sincerely.
				
				"Good," ${l_he} says and nods. 
				
				Lestrade really is very severe. Always reading your little jabs as truths, always preferring to "work" instead of verbal sparring. [i]Spoilsport[/i] indeed.
	
				$!{l_he} moves closer to the deceased and points towards the victim's downturned face. "Look
				*goto A1
			# "You are exceedingly serious. I wish nothing of the sort."
				*set friendshipL + 1
				—"You are exceedingly serious. I wish nothing of the sort." 
				
				"Good," ${l_he} says and nods. 
				
				Lestrade really is very severe. Always reading your little jabs as truths, always preferring to "work" instead of verbal sparring. [i]Spoilsport[/i] indeed.
				
				$!{l_he} moves closer to the deceased and points towards the victim's downturned face. "Look
				*goto A1
			# "How about an escape? I could catch him again!"
				*set friendshipL - 1
				*set bickeredL + 1
				—"How about an escape? I could catch him again!" you say with a grin.

				"Amusing," ${l_he} grumbles. 
				
				With that one word, ${l_he} turns to the dead body, effectively concluding your bickering early. $!{l_he} always does this. Often preferring to "work" instead of verbal sparring. [i]Spoilsport[/i] indeed.
				
				$!{l_he} moves closer to the deceased and points towards the victim's downturned face. "Look
				*goto A1
	# "Hello to you too, ${lestradeName}."
		*set friendshipL + 2
		*set romanceL + 1
		—"Hello to you too, ${lestradeName}," you greet the ${l_man} in front of you.
		
		$!{l_hi} eyes widen, and ${l_hi} weight stumbles over to the other foot. "Oh. Right… Good evening, ${mc_name}." $!{l_he} smiles, and the corners of ${l_hi} mouth lift, but not the corners of ${l_hi} eyes. "I—ah, should show you the victim. I'm still collecting the evidence..."
		
		$!{l_he} moves closer to the deceased and with ${l_hi} forefinger points towards the victim's downturned face. "But look
		*goto A1
	# "Tell me all you know of the murder."
		*set friendshipL + 1

		—"Tell me all you know of the murder," you say brusquely.
		
		Lestrade immediately points towards the victim's downturned face. "
		*goto A1
	# "It would not be the first time you've been wrong, Inspector."
		*set friendshipL - 1
		*set bickeredL + 1
		—"It would not be the first time you've been wrong, Inspector," you say snidely.
		
		Lestrade's eyes narrow. "And I appreciate you reminding me steadily of all such moments, Sherlock. Do you want me to remind you of your wrongs too?"

		Why is ${l_he} staring at you with such a strangely hostile gaze…
		*choice
			# "I have never been wrong!"
				*set friendshipL - 2
				*set bickeredL + 1
				*set heardScoldingBefore true
				—"I have never been wrong!" you protest.
				
				$!{l_hi} face contorts into something akin to pain, "Is that so. You already forgot about it, then? Does the drunk chamberlain not ring any bells? Because I can remember it, acutely!" $!{l_hi} raised voice causes a nearby detective to look over, causing Lestrade's following words to be delivered in shouted whisper. "—For god's sakes, they were close to stretchin' us right then and there!"
				*goto A0
			# "I have never been wrong..?"
				*set mcIgnorantToL + 1
				*set friendshipL - 2
				*set bickeredL + 1
				*set heardScoldingBefore true
				—"I have never been wrong...?" you question, truly not remembering any instance of being mistaken or incorrect.
				
				$!{l_hi} face contorts into something akin to pain, "Is that so. You already forgot about it, then? No memory of the incident with the drunk chamberlain? I remember—I remember it acutely!" $!{l_hi} raised voice causes a nearby detective to look over, causing Lestrade's following words to be delivered in a shouted whisper. "—For god's sakes, they were close to stretchin' us right then and there!"
				*goto A0
			# "What could you possibly be referring too?"
				*set friendshipL - 1
				*set heardScoldingBefore true
				—"What could you possibly be referring too?" you question, sceptic that there has ever been an instance where you were mistaken or incorrect.
				
				$!{l_hi} face contort into something akin to pain, "How could you forget?! The drunk chamberlain!" $!{l_hi} raised voice causes a nearby detective to look over, causing Lestrade's following words to be delivered in a shouted whisper. "—I mean, for god's sakes, they were close to stretchin' us right then and there!"
				*goto A0
			# "Lets not... I apologise. There. Done."
				*set friendshipL + 2
				*set heardScoldingBefore true
				—"Let's not... I apologise. There. Done." 
			
				"Fine, but you should know I still can't forget that night..." ${l_he} grumbles and drops the subject by simply stepping closer to the deceased. 
				
				$!{l_he} points towards the victim's downturned face. "Look			
				*goto A1
			# "Correct, I apologise."
				*set friendshipL + 3
				*set heardScoldingBefore true
				—"Correct, I apologise."
				
				"I still can't forget that night…" ${l_he} grumbles and drops the subject by simply stepping closer to the deceased. 
				
				$!{l_he} points towards the victim's downturned face. "Look
				*goto A1
				
	# "Well if it isn't him, then why do I care?"
		— "Well if it's not him, then why do I care?" you question.
		
		"How could you not? Look
		*goto A1
	# Immediately start studying the dead body without acknowledging Lestrade.
		*set friendshipL - 1

		—Ignoring the inspector, you promptly begin examining the cadaver.
		
		You hear Lestrade start talking beside you, "Fair enough. Look
		*goto A1

*label A0

*choice
	#"Right... That."
		—"Right... That." you say, now fully aware of the incident ${l_he} is referring to.

		"Yeah, that," ${l_he} grumbles and drops the subject by simply stepping closer to the deceased. 
		
		Lestrade is quite good at that. Pushing down emotions, mainly anger. It's almost admirable if you weren't so sure that is why ${l_he} keeps a badly hidden flask of strong spirits in ${l_hi} coat pocket.
		
		$!{l_he} points towards the victim's downturned face. "Look
		*goto A1
	# "I did forget, I apologise."
		*set friendshipL + 2	
		— "I did forget, I apologise."		

		$!{l_he} grumbles in response and drops the subject by simply stepping closer to the deceased. 
		
		Lestrade is quite good at that. Pushing down emotions, mainly anger. It's almost admirable if you weren't so sure that is why ${l_he} keeps a badly hidden flask of strong spirits in ${l_hi} coat pocket.
		
		$!{l_he} points towards the victim's downturned face. "Look
		*goto A1
	#"It would have worked, if not for... You know."		
		—"It would have worked, if not for... You know."		

		"You tell yourself that," ${l_he} grumbles but drops the subject by simply stepping closer to the deceased. 

		Lestrade is quite good at that. Pushing down emotions, mainly anger. It's almost admirable if you weren't so sure that is why ${l_he} keeps a badly hidden flask of strong spirits in ${l_hi} coat pocket. 
		
		$!{l_he} points towards the victim's downturned face. "Look	
		*goto A1
	#"Please... Let us never talk about that again."
		*set friendshipL + 1

		—"Please... Let us never talk about that again."	

		"Fine," ${l_he} grumbles and drops the subject by simply stepping closer to the deceased. 
		
		$!{l_he} is quite good at that. Pushing down emotions, mainly anger. It's almost admirable if you weren't so sure that is why ${l_he} keeps a badly hidden flask of strong spirits in ${l_hi} coat pocket.
		
		$!{l_he} points towards the victim's downturned face. "Look
		*goto A1
	#"I really should have remembered that..."
		*set mcIgnorantToL + 1
		—"I really should have remembered that..."
		
		"You [i]get[/i] to forget," ${l_he} grumbles and drops the subject by simply stepping closer to the deceased. 
		
		Lestrade is quite good at that. Pushing down emotions, mainly anger. It's almost admirable if you weren't so sure that is why ${l_he} keeps a badly hidden flask of strong spirits in ${l_hi} coat pocket.
		
		$!{l_he} points towards the victim's downturned face. "Let's focus on the case. Look		
		*goto A1



*label A1
—Here. His face, his profile—It's like the others." $!{l_hi} gloved hand traces the air along the lifeless body. "The modus operandi. The murder weapon. It's all the same. Whoever did this, they knew more than they should. And few knew what [i]he[/i] did—or how and to whom. It could be a copycat, an inside man diverting blame, or claiming it."

$!{l_he} looks straight into your eyes. "What if it's someone with access to the case files, Sherlock? It could be another detective."

*page_break

Lestrade continues to silently stare at you, probably wondering if you already have a hypothesis. When you say nothing, ${l_he} fills you in on the scene, "I would search his body first, but this time, don't disturb it so excessively." 

$!{l_he} steps away from the body and gestures to the three corners of the alleyway. "There is the surrounding area, and the witness who found the body. Nothing interesting in her testimony; I wouldn't waste your time with her. But," for ${l_hi} next sentence ${l_hi} voice shifts, now hushed and serious, "if there's any evidence of another copper being involved, I need to know. Do not question anyone openly. Keep it quiet. Alright?"

You nod in response. [i]Though you know you don't necessarily mean it.[/i]

*temp knowsTime "false"
*temp startedInves false

*temp goneToWitness false
*temp askLestrade false
*temp examinedbody false
*temp searchedCrimeScene false
*temp talkedWithBarman false
*temp newInfo false

*temp counter 0
*temp lestradeMad1 false
*temp lestradeEmbaressed false

*page_break
*goto Crimescene1

*label Crimescene1

*if (startedInves = false) 
	How will you begin your investigation?
	*set startedInves true
	*goto Crimescene1-2
*else
	*if (((goneToWitness = true) and (askLestrade)) and (newInfo = false)) 
		*set newInfo true
	
		There is something strange going on with the witness. Perhaps you should talk to the bar owner Lestrade mentioned.
	
	How will you continue your investigation?
	*goto Crimescene1-2


*label  Crimescene1-2
*choice
	
	*if ((goneToWitness = true) and (askLestrade)) 
		*hide_reuse 	#Tell an officer to bring the bar owner that saw the witness last.
			*set talkedWithBarman true
			—"You there!" you call out to the officer closest to you. 

			"Yes${mc_term}?" the young-looking officer replies instantly. 

			Huh… How his spine straightened, and his whole response was very... eager.
			*line_break
			He might know who you are. 		[i]The famous detective.[/i] 		Good, that always makes ordering people around much easier.

			"Bring me the owner of the pub Miss Cotter visited before the murder. If he refuses, convince him. And be quick about it."

			"Yes${mc_term}!" The young man takes off running. 

			Fame is quite useful.

			*page_break

			A few minutes later, the enthusiastic officer returns, and accompanying him is a stocky man with an off-white apron and a stable scowl. 

			"I brought Mr Hurch as y—" the officer starts, but is loudly interrupted by the man at his side. 

			"This better be quick, I've drinks to pour, drunks to wrangle…" The barman looks you up and down. 		"Well. You don't look like a copper."

			"I'm not."

			The barman snorts. "That's better then." He side-eyes the young man next to himself. "I've met enough of those today." The barman turns back to you with a smug grin. "Then, ${mc_miss}-not-a-cop, what do you want to know?" 

			Let's start with an easy question.

			*fake_choice
				#"How do you know the name of the witness?"
					—"How do you know the name of the witness?" you ask.

					"She's a regular. Comes in often, an ale and a piece of pie and she's as happy as a clam. Must have told me her name one of those times—Though, let me tell you, after enough time with the rabble, you learn much more about the customers than their names!" The barman chuckles and slaps the young officer on the back jovially like he would appreciate whatever secrets he is alluding to. In response, the young officer moves further away from the boisterous barman.
					*fake_choice
						#"Is that so, anything juicy to divulge?"
							*set proper %- 5
							—"Is that so, anything juicy to divulge?" you try and inject enthusiasm into your voice to sway the man into spilling his secrets.

							"Well. As a barman I can't be spilling all the secrets now, can I?"

							Damn.

							He swipes some crumbs from his apron. "You see, I have a con-fi-dence-cial-ity… something. Can't go blabbering to anyone about the things I know. Trust, ${mc_miss}, is important in my line of work. Integrity. Honour."

							*fake_choice 
								#"Why don't you give talking a try and I won't find you a nice cell for tonight, how about that?"
									—"Why don't you give talking a try and I won't find you a nice cell for tonight, how about that?"

									"Bollocks—You wouldn't!"

									"Care to wager?"

									The barman's face changes, now a shade redder and his forehead vein bulging. But looking over his shoulder he notices multiple officers near him. 								

									Got him. 

									"Bloody hell,
									*goto barOwnerEnd1
								#I throw the man a shilling, in the hopes of inducing a [i]talkative[/i] mood.
									*set proper %- 5
									—"How about now?" You throw the man a shilling.

									He catches the coin speedily, either expecting the bribe or just used to having to catch money in his line of work. "Great doing business with you, ${mc_miss}—Now, what is there to say about Miss Cotter… Hells,  
									*goto barOwnerEnd1

								#"Tell me about the witness, now, Mr Hurch."
									*set sentimental %- 5
									—"Tell me about the witness, now, Mr Hurch," you steadily order.

									"Hells,
									*goto barOwnerEnd1

								#"Please Sir, it's a matter of life and death."
									*set sentimental %+ 5
									—"Please Sir, it's a matter of life and death."

									"Well, you did ask nicely… But what do you want to know about Miss Cotter? Hells,  
									*goto barOwnerEnd1

						#"If you know anything related to the case, I need to know, please."
							*set sentimental %+ 5
							—"If you know anything related to the case, I need to know, please."

							"Well, you did ask nicely… But,  
							*goto barOwnerEnd1
						#"And what would that be in Miss Cotter's case?
							*set sentimental %- 5
							—"And what would that be in Miss Cotter's case?" you ask.

							"Well. As a barman I can't be spilling all the secrets now, can I?"

							He swipes some crumbs from his apron, "You see, I have a Con-fi-dence-cial-ity… something. Can't go blabbering to anyone about the things I know. Trust, ${mc_miss}, is important in my line of work. Integrity. Honour."

							*fake_choice 
								#"Why don't you give talking a try and I won't find you a nice cell for tonight, how about that?"
									—"Why don't you give talking a try and I won't find you a nice cell for tonight, how about that?"

									"Bollocks—You wouldn't!"

									"Care to wager?"

									The barman's face changes, now a shade redder and his forehead vein bulging. But looking over his shoulder he notices multiple officers near him. 								

									Got him. 

									"Bloody hell,
									*goto barOwnerEnd1
								#I throw the man a shilling, in the hopes of inducing a [i]talkative[/i] mood.
									*set proper %- 5
									—"How about now?" You throw the man a shilling.

									He catches the coin speedily, either expecting the bribe or just used to having to catch money in his line of work. "Great doing business with you, ${mc_miss}—Now, what is there to say about Miss Cotter… Hells,  
									*goto barOwnerEnd1

								#"Tell me about the witness, now, Mr Hurch."
									*set sentimental %- 5
									—"Tell me about the witness, now, Mr Hurch," you steadily order.

									"Hells,
									*goto barOwnerEnd1

								#"Please Sir, it's a matter of life and death."
									*set sentimental %+ 5
									—"Please Sir, it's a matter of life and death."

									"Well, you did ask nicely… But what do you want to know about Miss Cotter? Hells,  
									*goto barOwnerEnd1

						#"I'm not searching for silly gossip, Mr Hurch."
							*set proper %+ 5
							—"I'm not searching for silly gossip, Mr Hurch," you say.

							The barman snorts loudly. "That so? Listen here, [i]${mc_rude}[/i], I don't need to be here. So keep being a smart-ass, and I'm leaving, got it?" He huffs himself up, perhaps trying to look larger? Sadly for him, his imitation of a puffer fish is not very intimidating.

							*fake_choice 
								#"Give it a try and I'll find you a nice cell for tonight, how about that?"
									—"Give it a try and I'll find you a nice cell for tonight, how about that?"

									"Bollocks—You wouldn't!"

									"Care to wager?"

									The barman's face changes, now a shade redder and his forehead vein bulging. But looking over his shoulder he notices multiple officers near him. 								

									Got him. 

									"Bloody hell,
									*goto barOwnerEnd1

								#"I'm sorry for offending you, Sir, but this is a matter of life and death."
									*set sentimental %+ 5
									—"I'm sorry for offending you, Sir, but this is a matter of life and death."

									"Well, as long as you're sorry. Still, what is there to say about Miss Cotter… Hells,  
									*goto barOwnerEnd1

								#"Got it."
									*set sentimental %- 5
									—"Got it."

									"Good… Well, what is there to say about Miss Cotter. Hells,  
									*goto barOwnerEnd1

								#"Tell me about the witness, now, Mr Hurch."
									*set proper %+ 5
									—"Tell me about the witness, now, Mr Hurch," you steadily order.

									"Hells,
									*goto barOwnerEnd1


			*label barOwnerEnd1
			I already told you, didn't I? She comes in all the time, that's it. She pays her tab, and that makes her a good customer in my book. What she does later is no concern of mine."
											
			"And what is it [i]she[/i] does?" you ask.
											
			"She's one of them—" he gestures incoherently with his hands "—girls. you'know."
											
			"Clarity, Mr Hurch. Use your words."
											
			"A working girl. Painted madam. A lady of the streets and sheets. Prosti—" 
											
			The bar-owner is then interrupted by the young officer, who is now flushed entirely red. "No need to use such language Sir, I—We got it."
			*goto barOwnerEnd2

			*label barOwnerEnd2
			*fake_choice
				#"You didn't see or hear anything strange at around the time the witness left or before?"
					—"You didn't see or hear anything strange at around the time the witness left or before?" 
					
					"Nah. Cuz I was busy with work and such—What with that weather, the customers were all huddled inside. No one in their right mind would go out. And when Miss Cotter was 'bout to leave I told her so. Girls shouldn't be going out in such a storm. But she was in a hurry, something about her brother. At least she had one of them sturdy umbrellas, otherwise, I might have been forced to be a gentleman and forbid her from leaving, you know?"
							
					She had an umbrella…
					*line_break
					She said she didn't.

					*label umbrellacolour

					*fake_choice
						#"Do you remember the colour of the umbrella?"
							—"Do you remember the colour of the umbrella?" you ask.
							
							"Yeah. A sort of dark-grey, real elegant one too. Why?"

						*hide_reuse #"I don't think you know what 'gentleman' means..."
							—"I don't think you know what 'gentleman' means…" you say.
							
							"Of-course I do, I am the very model of a gentleman!" he says as some spit exits his mouth in protest.
							
							Right.

							*goto umbrellacolour
							
						
					*fake_choice
						#"Nothing you need to concern yourself with."
							*set proper %+ 5
							"Nothing you need to concern yourself with." You turn and signal to the previously enthusiastic young officer that you are finished here. 
							
							The officer leads the barman lightly by the shoulder away from you and the crime scene, "We really appreciate your cooperation, if you would come with me I can…" His voice trails away, neither of them of any importance any more. 
							You got what you wanted.
							
						#"It's not of importance. I have all I need, thank you."			
							*set sentimental %+ 5	
							"Nothing of importance. I have all I need, thank you." You turn and signal to the previously enthusiastic young officer that you are finished here. 

							He quickly adheres to your order, and leads the barman by the arm away from you and the crime scene, "We really appreciate your cooperation, if you would come with me I can…" His voice trails away, neither of them of any importance any more.
							You already got what you needed.
							
						#"We're done. You can leave now."
							*set sentimental %- 5
							"We're done. You can leave now," you say to the young officer.
							
							He quickly adheres to your order, and leads the barman by the arm away from you and the crime scene, "We really appreciate your cooperation, if you would come with me I can…" His voice trails away, neither of them of any importance any more.
							You already got what you needed.
					
			*page_break
			*goto Crimescene1





	*if (askLestrade = false) 	#Ask Lestrade for more details
		*set knowsTime "Lestrade"
		*set askLestrade true
		—"Anything you can tell me about the case that could be of use?" you ask Lestrade.

		The inspector takes out a notepad, flips a few pages forward, and starts reading ${l_hi} scribbles aloud. 

		"The suspected homicide was found at around half past one by the witness, a Miss Beatrice Cotter, 19 years of age, who lives nearby. She saw no-one and nothing particular of interest. She appears… severely affected by the sight of the death. A neighbouring pub owner corroborated both her name and her leaving the establishment at around one, half-past one."
		
		$!{l_he} looks up at you for a second to see if ${l_he} should continue. Your silence and continued presence lead ${l_him} to flip to the next page of ${l_hi} notepad. 
		
		"There is no current suspect. No lead. There is no identification of the victim, as of yet. He appears to be young, between 18 and 25 years of age. No facial hair or clear facial identifications. His clothes were well-tailored and of good material—richer than what one would expect in this area. In his pockets were almost 30 pounds, but all in smaller currencies. One would expect he did not lie on the ground for long, with that kind of coin undisturbed."
		
		Lestrade closes ${l_hi} notepad, and with a nod leaves you to continue the investigation.
		
		*goto Crimescene1
	
	
	*if ((askLestrade = true) and (askLestrade = true)) 	#Ask Lestrade more questions.
		*set knowsTime "Lestrade"
		—"I have some more questions about the case," you say to Lestrade.
		
		*if (lestradeEmbaressed) 
			*set lestradeEmbaressed false
			*set lestradeMad1 false
			$!{l_he} avoids your eyes in favour of your shoes and any sources of background noises. You spot a slight blush creeping up on ${l_hi} cheek, but ${l_he} pushes through whatever is bothering ${l_him} and puts the work above any and all feelings. 

			[i]Classic Lestrade.[/i]
				
			The inspector grabs ${l_hi} notepad, flips a few pages forward, and readies ${l_himself} for your inquiries. "Well—ahem—what was it you needed to know?" ${l_he} asks with uncertain tone.

			*goto lestradeExtraQuestions

		*elseif (LestradeMad1) 
			*set lestradeMad1 false
			$!{l_he} looks at you with suspicious eyes. $!{l_he} doesn't seem to want to talk after the altercation, but like always ${l_he} puts the work above any and all feelings.
				
			The inspector grabs ${l_hi} notepad, flips a few pages forward, and readies ${l_himself} for your inquiries. "Well? What was it you needed to know?" ${l_he} asks impatiently.

			*goto lestradeExtraQuestions

		*else
			The inspector grabs ${l_hi} notepad, flips a few pages forward, and readies ${l_himself} for your inquiries. "Go on then, what do you want to know?"

			*goto lestradeExtraQuestions
		
		
		*goto lestradeExtraQuestions
		*label lestradeExtraQuestions
		
		*line_break

		What do you want to ask Lestrade?
		
		*fake_choice 
			*hide_reuse	#"Why are you so sure it's not [i]him[/i]?"
				—"Why are you so sure it's not [i]him[/i]?" you ask.
				
				"Because it's not." Lestrade closes ${l_hi} notepad. "The only reason you think it might be him, is because you want it to be. There is no reason to believe that [i]he[/i] has escaped. And had you not been so uncharacteristically illogical lately, you would see it too."
				
				*fake_choice

					#"Perhaps you're right."
						*set friendshipL + 2
						—"Perhaps you're right," you say.
						
						$!{l_hi} face searches yours. The ${lestradeVoice} voice sounds almost warm, sympathetic. "It's for the best. Trust me." 
					#"Why don't you say what you really mean..." I say with sarcasm.
						*set friendshipL - 2
						*set bickeredL + 1
						—"Why don't you say what you really mean…" you say while struggling to contain the mockery in your voice.
						
						"Fine," ${l_he} says, taking one deep breath as if in preparation. "You’ve not been yourself lately. You're out of control, paranoid, and dangerously close to the edge. And if I believe it will interfere with your consultation work I won't be able to justify bringing you in any more. That is what I really mean."
						*fake_choice
							#"Fuck. You. There, that is what I really mean."
								*set friendshipL - 6
								*set bickeredL + 1
								*set timesMadL + 1
								*set lestradeMad1 true
								—"Fuck. You. There, that is what I really mean." You can feel your ire vibrate with every word. 
								
								$!{l_hi} gloved index finger gets in your face, close, in warning. "Until you get a bloody grip, get out of my sight—Go!" ${l_he} shouts the last word, resentment coupled with barely contained anger.
								
								With all the discipline you can muster, you walk away and try and immerse yourself in the case. Think happy thoughts. Think murder.
								
								*goto Crimescene1
							#"You wouldn't?!"
								—"You wouldn't?!" you say desperately.
							
								"${mc_name}, I wouldn't have a choice."
							
								$!{l_he} continues, "Let's just get these questions over with. What else did you want to ask?"
							
							#"Please, I need this, don't."
								*set friendshipL + 3
								—"Please, I need this, don't," you plead.
							
								"$!{mc_name}," ${l_he} sighs your name. $!{l_hi} gloved hand buries itself in ${l_hi} face, trying, but seemingly failing, to rub away the frustration. "I don't enjoy causing you distress. If you can return to the rational and logical detective that you were when we first met…"
							
								$!{l_hi} dark eyes meet your ${eyeColour} eyes. "—But the way you have been acting lately, I probably wouldn't have a choice."
							
								$!{l_he} continues, "Let's just get these questions over with. What else did you want to ask?"
						
					#"You're being abominable rude."
						*set friendshipL - 1
						—"You're being abominable rude," you say.
						
						"Perhaps. But I'm right," ${l_he} says determined.
						
						Lestrade continues, "Let's just get these questions over with. What else did you want to ask?"
					#"Maybe I just know better than you?"
						*set bickeredL + 1
						—"Maybe I just know better than you?" you say.
						
						"In some things. But I am right about this."
						
						$!{l_he} continues, "You won't hear me on this, so let's just get these questions over with. What else did you want to ask?"
						
					
			*hide_reuse	#"What can you tell me about this area of London?"
				—"What can you tell me about this area of London?" you ask.
				
				"The people are poor. The rate and severity of crimes here is one of the highest in the city. Don't come here after sunset—actually, don't come here at all—unless I'm around. Not if you value your life or your wallet."
				
			*hide_reuse	#"Do you believe the witness's testimony?"
				—"Do you believe the witness's testimony?" you ask.
				
				"She's a scared girl who just saw her first murder. That is what I believe, beyond that I couldn't say."
				
				
			*hide_reuse *if (talkedWithBarman) #"Did you know the witness's occupation, Lestrade?"
				—"Did you know the witness was a prostitute, Lestrade?" you ask.
				
				"I suspected. Why does it matter?" Lestrade pierces ${l_hi} eyes on you. "Preaching about virtue now?" 
				
				You mentally eye-roll at ${l_hi} idiocy. "The original killer associated with prostitutes. That is how it matters. It's a connection."
				
				"Half the city does," ${l_he} says matter-of-factly.
				
				*fake_choice
					#"From now on, I need all the information, [i]please[/i]?"
						*set friendshipL + 1
						—"From now on I need all the information, please?" you plead with ${l_him}, your disappointment clear in your voice.
						
						$!{l_he} looks down at ${l_hi} shoes, one toying with a stone on the road. 
						*line_break
						[i]Wait—is ${l_he} embarrassed?[/i] 
						
						"I will try." Is all the answer ${l_he} gives.
						
					#"Do you?"
						*set romanceL + 1
						—"Do you?" you ask ${l_him}.
						
						"Do I—WHAT? NO! Of course not, why would you think I would ever—I don't. And I never have," ${l_he} sputters in shock at your query. You don't know if it was the level of privacy of the question, or the subject matter, but whatever it was, you have never seen Lestrade so red in the face.
						
						*fake_choice
							#"'[i]Me-thinks the lady doth protest too much'[/i]."
								—"'[i]Me-thinks the lady doth protest too much'[/i]," you say.
								
								*if (lestradeMan)
									"I'm a lady now, am I? Right—simply because I—"
								*if (lestradeMan = false)
									"What?"
								
								"It's a Shakespeare ref—ah forget it, what is the amusement if I have to explain it…"
							#"You're blushing..."
								*set romanceL + 1
								—"You're blushing..." you say.
								
								"I—I don't blush," ${l_he} says with failing sternness.
								
								"A trick of the light then?"
								
								"Can-we-get-on-with-the-questions-now—What else did you want to ask?"
							#"Oh, dear inspector—I believe you are positively flushed!"
								*set romanceL + 1
								*set bickeredL + 1
								—"Oh, dear inspector—I believe you are positively flushed!" you declare with a passion.
								
								"I—I don't—I am simply warm!" ${l_he} says with faltering sternness.
								
								"And what made you warm so suddenly, Lestrade?"
								
								"Can-we-get-on-with-the-questions-now—What else did you want to ask?"
							#"It was just a question."
								—"It was just a question," you say.
								
								"Which I have answered, let's move on. What else did you want to ask?" $!{l_he} seems determined to move on from the subject.
						
					#"You tell me everything next time—got it!?" 
						*set friendshipL - 3
						*set bickeredL + 1
						—"You tell me everything next time—got it!?" you command the inspector.
						
						"I might," ${l_he} says in typical Lestrade dryness.
					#"That is a gross exaggeration."
						*set bickeredL + 1
						—"That is a gross exaggeration," you say.
						
						"Not as much as you might think. You would not believe the reports I've seen… The things I've had to read..." ${l_hi} voice trails of, almost mumbling to ${l_himself}. 
						
						$!{l_he} interrupts ${l_himself}, "let's get these questions over with. What else did you want to ask?"

			#Done with questioning
				*goto Crimescene1
				


		*goto lestradeExtraQuestions

	



	*if (searchedCrimeScene = "false") #Search the crime scene
		*set searchedCrimeScene true
		The crime scene seems restricted to the three corners of the alleyway. But as you walk around the perimeter, nothing of note appears. Not one morsel of right or wrong. It's almost strange. The surrounding area is either spotless and appears truthfully as innocent as before the crime was committed, or it is sinfully stained and somehow perfectly cleansed of all traces.
		
		How nostalgic.

		[i]He[/i] was always so careful. Barely any decent clues left after a dozen murders. But still, it's different today. It doesn't feel careful. There are no intentionally destroyed hints. There is just nothing. Maybe you're reaching… Perhaps, the culprit got lucky with the severity of the rain…

		However, this is a violent crime. How come the scene appears as if frozen, only restricted to victim and witness? Was there no struggle, no lead-up? And would that signify complete spontaneity or meticulous planning? 
		
		*page_break
		
		After taking a few turns around the alley, and chatting with some of the policemen to get their knowledge of the scene, you finally admit to yourself that there is little of interest here, and move on to the next step of the case.
		
		*goto Crimescene1

	
	
	
	*hide_reuse *if (examinedbody = "false") #Examine the dead body
		*set examinedbody true
		—As you step closer to the cadaver, the first thing you notice is the lack of scent. The rain and relative freshness of the murder leave only a lingering tinge of blood. Stronger is the smell of mud and dirt, human and earth grime that plagues London's streets. 
		
		*if (knowsTime = "witness")
			This murder was recent, just like the witness said.
		*if (knowsTime = "Lestrade")
			This murder was recent, just like Lestrade said.
		*if (knowsTime = "false")
			This murder was recent.
			
		*page_break
		Stepping even closer, you take in the figure lying dead before you. 
		
		What draws your attention first is the clashing of the dreary atmosphere with the apparent richness of the victim's coat. Dark artificial blues and greys against dirty browns and washed pale stone. It reminds you a little of paintings you have seen in homes of wealthy clients. The new style, where the canvas tried to capture the realism, life as it is, the good and the bad. 
		
		But, it also made you chuckle, silently, inaudible. That was one well-dressed man. And a well-dressed corpse always seemed comical to you. This one was no exception. 
		
		What was a man like him doing in a place like this?
		
		*if (askLestrade) 
			This man carried more money than some in this neighbourhood made in a year. Strange that the witness found the body with the money still in the man's pocket. Stranger still that she missed the murderer or didn't take the money for herself. She could just be a virtuous soul, but few living in a neighbourhood such as this have that luxury.
			
		His appearance, of what you can see when you crouch by the side of the dead man, was elegant. Like all the others who were murdered by the original killer. Handsome lines from ear to chin, prominent profile, unusually clean-shaven, long pretty eyelashes. His facial expression and pallor of skin wouldn't inspire paintings, but one could probably blame that on the whole cadaverous nature of his situation. 
			
		You always wondered if [i]he[/i] murdered all those men because they were good-looking, if he adored or hated, craved or wanted, their looks. You never did get your answer to that question. The one time Lestrade allowed you to talk to him in his cell, he stared at the stone floor and didn't say a word. And the man next to you won't be able to give you any answers, not with his lips so blue.
		
		*page_break
		
		The umbrella was beautiful. Strong. With a shade of slate on the fabric and treated dark wood for the handle and shaft. Details of silvery metal shone by the polish of the rain. 		
		
		The umbrella matched the aesthetic of the man it was currently within, not anyone who would live in the squalor of your current locale.
			
		By solely looking, you could not see the tip of the unorthodox weapon as it was buried inside the man. But, should it match the other crimes, it will be an unusually long end, with a weak false tip hiding a metal sharpness, similar in size and shape to a fire poker.  With enough force, in the right place in the back, it would paralyse and later kill the intended within minutes—maybe faster if either party were lucky. 
		
		The umbrella exits the cadaver at an angle of—
		
		Wait… This is new.
		
		*page_break

		The angle at which the umbrella entered the man, it's different from all the other homicides. In the original cases, the shafts stood proud, but this one has more of a tired lean. The length of the weapon tilts towards his feet, not much, but a little. Perhaps, if it entered from a lower height, then…
		
		You wriggle your hands underneath the deceased's coat, then under his waistcoat. Your fingers become cold with the sticky blood that had time to pool under the fabrics. Pressing your fingers onto a wet shirt, feeling his ribs, counting, finding the tip, carefully… 6, 7, 8. There! 
		
		Just as you thought. The weapon entered between his eighth and ninth rib. And being this close to the source, the miss is clear.
		
		*if ((((skinColour = "dark") or (skinColour = "dark brown"))or ((skinColour = "brown") or (skinColour = "light brown"))) or ((skinColour = "black") or (skinBlushes = false)))
			Prying your hand from the man's anatomy and attire, you try and clean yourself up with a nearby bucket and rag. The rag becomes stained, and so do your hands remain. Only soap would remove the deep red from around your nails and in the crevices of your hands. This will have to be enough. 
			*goto bloodiedHands
		*else 
			Prying your hand from the man's anatomy and attire, you try and clean yourself up with a nearby bucket and rag. The rag becomes pink, and so do your hands remain. Only soap would remove the deep red colour from around your nails and in the crevices of your hands. This will have to be enough. 
			*goto bloodiedHands
		
		*label bloodiedHands
		
		Bloodied hands are a part of your job, something that you've long since numbed to. A small price to pay for satisfaction. 
		
		*page_break
		After examining the dead body, your conclusion is this:
		
		The murder was recent, the victim was probably rich and fits the profile of the original killer.
		
		But, more importantly—
		
		Whoever murdered the victim did so with a lower angle than the original killer. The weapon entered the back of the then-alive individual between the eighth and ninth rib. 
		
		With the necessary force required to stab a fully grown man in the back, this implies the umbrella handle was held at chest height and thrust upwards, making the killer quite a bit shorter than the murder victim. This also had the effect of striking the body too low, or perhaps the killer is just inexperienced with anatomy or killing. Either way, the heart would be less punctured, or perhaps not at all. 
		
		The victim would have died more slowly than the original murders.
		
		If the body then lay there dying, perhaps even making sounds of gasping or crying out, was the witness the first to find the body? Could the man have been alive when she discovered him?

		*goto Crimescene1
	
	
	
	*hide_reuse #Study Lestrade
		*goto lookAtLestrade
	*hide_reuse #Go see the witness
		*set goneToWitness true
		*set knowsTime "witness"
		—"I will talk to the witness," you inform Lestrade.
		
		Lestrade pinches the bridge of ${l_hi} nose with ${l_hi} gloved hand. "Right, of course. Why would you ever listen to me." With ${l_hi} other hand, ${l_he} points towards a makeshift tent where you see a huddled woman wrapped in a blanket. 

		Strange—

		—Why is she wrapped in a blanket? Indeed, the method has proven helpful for both trauma and composure, but it is not in any protocol. Neither is kindness from the officers.


		
		Shaking away the thought, you start walking in the direction of the witness. Then you hear the inspector's voice again. "Be careful with her, ${mc_name}."
		
		*page_break
		
		Walking closer, the condition of the woman becomes clear. 
		
		The "tent" is an inadequate flap of cloth that barely shelters her from the rain. The stool she is sitting on is low and small. And with the way she is leaning, she finds the seat severely lacking. 
		
		Not much care given to her comfort it seems…
		
		Studying her in more detail you try and build a profile. Her general measurements are hard to tell with her frame wrapped and pressed into herself. But if you have to guess, she is probably less than a meter and a half in height. Quite possibly malnourished. 
		
		Her dark hair is frazzled and wet. Her pale eyes, staring off far into nothingness, are about three millimetres more open than is expected in this environment. The blanket encasing her entire upper half is so tightly wrapped it's remarkable she can still breathe. And her breathing... it is severely shallow. Anyone would easily faint in that state. Lastly, her irregularly tapping shoes are caked in mud. 
		
		Assessment: She is traumatised, probably in shock. Her answers might be inaccurate. 		
		
		[i]Details: Possibly poor, probably short. Why are her shoes so covered in mud?[/i]

		*line_break

		How do you approach the situation?
		
		*fake_choice
			#Approach carefully and kindly, like one would a cornered cat. 
				You walk softly, slowly, towards the witness. She doesn't seem to hear you drawing close. "Miss Cotter," you say gently.
								
				The witness's shaky eyes turn to your nearing figure. She scans your face for multiple moments. Her eyes exposing more of their surface, mouth opening slightly, eyebrows stiff and lifted. 
				
				Is that surprise on her face? Terror? Recognition? Or perhaps, her situation is so panicked that your approach induced additional horror.
				
				She looks away from your gaze, staring now at your shoes parked in front of her. 				
				
				"I'm a detective," you explain. And with every word out of your mouth she flinches. [i]She's in a worse condition than you thought.[/i] "—If you tell me what happened, from the beginning. I can help you. Please, would you tell me what you saw?" you ask the girl.
				
				Her trembling intensifies. She tries to swallow with a dry throat—croaking her answer, "I—I needed to get home to see my brother. The rain was terrible, I could barely hear anything, or see very much. I kept my head down, but with the rain in my eyes… I tripped. I thought a brick had gotten loose—but… My fall wasn't hard. And there was an umbrella on his back. It was all so strange, but, I didn't think—maybe he was drunk. But there was blood, and the umbrella…" 

				*page_break
				
				"What happened then?" you ask.

				A shuddering breath exits through her painted, now smudged, lips. "He didn't move, I couldn't wake him. His eyes were so… empty. I knew then, when I saw his eyes—" She looks up at you, "—his soul was gone." 

				"Whoever did this, they are going to hell, aren't they?" she asks quietly.
				
				"I'd rather catch them [i]before[/i] they arrive at the pearly gates, Miss."

				*goto witnessQuestions
			#I need to know what she knows. There is no time for niceties.
				Your feet travel hard and fast on the path. "Miss Cotter!"
				
				The witness's shaky eyes fly to your approaching figure. She scans your face for multiple moments. Her eyes exposing more of their surface, mouth opening slightly, eyebrows stiff and lifted. 
				
				Is that surprise on her face? Terror? Recognition? Or perhaps, her situation is so panicked that your sudden approach induced additional horror.
				
				She looks away from your gaze, staring now at your shoes parked in front of her. "Start from the beginning," you tell the girl.
				
				Her trembling intensifies. She tries to swallow with a dry throat—croaking her answer, "I—I needed to get home to see my brother. The rain was terrible, I could barely hear anything, or see very much. I kept my head down, but with the rain in my eyes… I tripped. I thought a brick had gotten loose—but… My fall wasn't hard. And there was an umbrella on his back.  It was all so strange, but, I didn't think—maybe he was drunk. But there was blood, and the umbrella…" 
				
				*page_break
				
				"What happened then?" you ask.

				A shuddering breath exits through her painted, now smudged, lips. "He didn't move, I couldn't wake him. His eyes were so… empty. I knew then, when I saw his eyes—" She looks up at you, "—his soul was gone."

				"Whoever did this, they are going to hell, aren't they?" she asks quietly.
				
				"I'd rather catch them [i]before[/i] they arrive at the pearly gates, Miss."
			
				*goto witnessQuestions
			
			#I'll be professional, neither harsh nor kind.
				You walk towards the witness. She doesn't seem to hear you drawing close. "Miss Cotter," you say calmly.
								
				The witness's shaky eyes turn to your nearing figure. She scans your face for multiple moments. Her eyes exposing more of their surface, mouth opening slightly, eyebrows stiff and lifted. 
				
				Is that surprise on her face? Terror? Recognition? Or perhaps, her situation is so panicked that your approach induced additional horror.
				
				She looks away from your gaze, staring now at your shoes parked in front of her. 				
				
				"I'm a detective," you explain. And with every word out of your mouth she flinches. [i]She's in a worse condition than you thought.[/i] "—I need to know what happened here. Maybe I can help you. Tell me what happened, from the beginning," you instruct the girl.
				
				Her trembling intensifies. She tries to swallow with a dry throat—croaking her answer, "I—I needed to get home to see my brother. The rain was terrible, I could barely hear anything, or see very much. I kept my head down, but with the rain in my eyes… I tripped. I thought a brick had gotten loose—but… My fall wasn't hard. And there was an umbrella on his back.  It was all so strange, but, I didn't think—maybe he was drunk. But there was blood, and the umbrella…" 

				*page_break
				
				"What happened then?" you ask.

				A shuddering breath exits through her painted, now smudged, lips. "He didn't move, I couldn't wake him. His eyes were so… empty. I knew then, when I saw his eyes—" She looks up at you, "—his soul was gone." 

				"Whoever did this, they are going to hell, aren't they?" she asks quietly.
				
				"I'd rather catch them [i]before[/i] they arrive at the pearly gates, Miss."
				
				*goto witnessQuestions
			#Improvisation always works best in situations such as these. Maybe some spirits would help her calm down?

				*if (cope = "drinking") 
					You never leave the house without a helpful dose of your favourite intoxicant. Not in this weather. They don't call drink a [i]Antifogmatic[/i] for no reason. Liquid courage is another good one—surely, bringing it everywhere is warranted for such a noble and practical refreshment. 

					Although, do you really want to share it? She might down it all in one go—she might be diseased... [i]You might need it later.[/i]
					
					Sure—you [i]could[/i] offer her your flask. But, perhaps, trying to convince Lestrade to use ${l_hi} poorly concealed flask would be better.

					What do you do?

					*fake_choice
						#Let the witness use my flask.
							*set lestradesFlask false
							You'll let her use your flask. It's for the investigation, after all, and it's only polite to share.

							And just as you decide this, your mind forces the memory of the store you passed on the way, should there be a need to purchase more.

							[i]Stop this ${mc_name}. There is finally a case.[/i]

						#Let the witness use Lestrade's flask.
							*set lestradesFlask true
							—"Lestrade!" You jog back to the inspector. "I need to borrow your flask."
					
							The inspector only stares at you, wheels spinning behind those dark eyes. "I don't have a—" But ${l_he} quiets. 
							
							Sighing deeply, with one hand, ${l_he} reaches into ${l_hi} coat and hands you a small flask. It's surprisingly ornate, with a filigree pattern made out of pewter over a glass dome. "Don't tell me why, just… wash it before I get it back." 
							
							"Deal!" you say and head back to the witness.

				*if (cope != "drinking") 
					*set lestradesFlask true
					—"Lestrade!" You jog back to the inspector. "I need to borrow your flask."
					
					The inspector only stares at you, wheels spinning behind those dark eyes. "I don't have a—" But ${l_he} quiets. 
					
					Sighing deeply, with one hand, ${l_he} reaches into ${l_hi} coat and hands you a small flask. It's surprisingly ornate, with a filigree pattern made out of pewter over a glass dome. "Don't tell me why, just… wash it before I get it back." 
					
					"Deal!" You say and head back to the witness.
					
				*page_break
				
				You walk towards the witness. She doesn't seem to hear you drawing close. "Miss Cotter?"
								
				The witness's shaky eyes turn to your nearing figure. She scans your face for multiple moments. Her eyes exposing more of their surface, mouth opening slightly, eyebrows stiff and lifted. 
				
				Is that surprise on her face? Terror? Recognition? Or perhaps, her situation is so panicked that your approach induced additional horror.
				
				She looks away from your gaze, staring now at your shoes parked in front of her. 	

				*if (lestradesFlask = false) 
					"I'm a detective," you explain. And with every word out of your mouth she flinches. [i]She's in a worse condition than you thought.[/i] "—I need to know what happened here. But, first, I am going to help you. Here—" You hand her your filled flask. "Take a good swig, it'll help your nerves." 

				
				*if (lestradesFlask) 
					"I'm a detective," you explain. And with every word out of your mouth she flinches. [i]She's in a worse condition than you thought.[/i] "—I need to know what happened here. But, first, I am going to help you. Here—" You hand her Lestrade's flask filled with a dark liquid. "Take a good swig, it'll help your nerves." 
				
				The girl looks at the flask for a long moment, opens the top, puts it to her lips and swallows. Once—twice. 
				
				When she's finished she makes a sound like a drowning man coming up for air. She gives the flask back to you. 

				"Tell me what happened, from the beginning," you instruct the girl.
				
				She tries to speak, but with a burning throat she croaks out her answer, "I—I needed to get home to see my brother. The rain was terrible, I could barely hear anything, let alone see very much. I kept my head down, but with the rain... I tripped. I thought a brick had gotten loose—but… My fall wasn't hard. And there was an umbrella on his back.  It was all so strange, but, I didn't think—maybe he was drunk. But there was blood, and the umbrella…" 

				*page_break
				
				"What happened then?" you ask.

				A shuddering breath exits through her painted, now smudged, lips. "He didn't move, I couldn't wake him. His eyes were so… empty. I knew then, when I saw his eyes—" She looks up at you now, "—his soul was gone." 

				"Whoever did this, they are going to hell, aren't they?" she asks quietly.
				
				"I'd rather catch them [i]before[/i] they arrive at the pearly gates, Miss."
				
				*goto witnessQuestions
		

		*label witnessQuestions
		*fake_choice
			*hide_reuse	#"He was dead then? When you happened upon the victim?"
				—"He was dead then? When you happened upon the victim?" you ask.
				
				"Yes. I think so… "
				*set counter + 1
				
			*hide_reuse	#"Did you see who killed the man or hear anything strange at all?" 
				—"Did you see who killed the man or hear anything strange at all?" you ask.
				
				"No. With the rain coming down so fierce—I never saw or heard anything."
				*set counter + 1
				
			*hide_reuse	#"Why were you out in the rain?"
				—"Why were you out in the rain?" you ask.
				
				"My brother's sick. Couldn't wait the rain out, I needed to get home to take care of him."
				
				"Is someone taking care of your brother now?"
				
				"My—my aunt, she heard what happened, came by a while ago. Told me she would help. I know he'll be fine now."
				*set counter + 1
				
			*hide_reuse	#"Do you know or have seen the victim before?"
				—"Do you know, or have ever seen, the victim before?" you ask.
				
				"What? No. No, of course not. How could I have? Me and a man like that…"
				
				"[i]A man like that[/i]?"
				
				"His coat, his appearance. He must be very wealthy… what would a man like that be doing here. With a girl like me."
				*set counter + 1
				
			*hide_reuse	#"Why are your shoes so covered in mud?"
				—"Why are your shoes so covered in mud?"
				
				"Mud?" She looks down at her feet. "Oh, I hadn't noticed. I—don't know. Must have been muddy. I'm sorry, I don't know…"
				
				*set counter + 1

			*if (counter = 5) #"I have no more questions."
				—"I have no more questions." you say.
				
				You turn to leave, but something stops you.
				
				"You didn't have an umbrella?"
				
				The relief of you leaving washes from her face, "Did I have an umbrella? Why do you—why would I've had an umbrella?"
				
				"It was raining. Heavily. Was it not?"
				
				"I didn't have an umbrella. I forgot." 
				
				"Is that so." You end the questioning, leaving her side and returning to the crime scene.

				*page_break
				*goto Crimescene1
				
		*goto witnessQuestions
		
		

	
	*selectable_if ((((goneToWitness) and (askLestrade)) and ((examinedbody) and (searchedCrimeScene))) and (talkedWithBarman)) #Conclude investigation

		*goto CrimesceneConclude0

*label  lookAtLestrade
You look at Lestrade—

*if (lestradeMan)
	You study the man—his body bent and balancing on toes hunched over the deceased. Careful in his methods, careless with himself. His position, knees bent but not touching the ground—only he could hover for long. But only because he never notices the damage of his aching muscles—then he arrives home, past midnight, dead tired. And the pain hits him and sleep never comes—and he never says it, never thinks it, but how long can he live like this. Lonely, body weary, soul withered.

	Then he stands, and unravels, still wrinkled and lean. 
	He is all darkness, all dressed in black. His leather glove tightens by his grip. Gregory Lestrade, police inspector Lestrade. Grave, lifeless, and a workhorse—that is how you heard his coworkers describe him once. On the outside, this appears a reasonable assessment. His perpetual glare is indeed alienating. His tone is reserved. And frequently, he speaks harsh words. Yet, you know he will consider his approach for victims. For them, his voice will turn soft, careful. 

	He is not heartless, or quite as dear to death as people around him might say.

	*page_break
	He is an unusual sight, but not harsh on the eyes.

	Studying Lestrade's figure, you find him buried under layers of shadows. Shadows from under his glare, from his unkempt jaw, the darkness of his hair and eyes. And underneath it all is a contrasting face. Boyish yet masculine. And although his features are now aged and somewhat withered, he is beautiful. He possesses an intense stare, chiselled features, and strong shoulders—a fittingly deep and sombre voice. 

	If it weren't for his cold exterior and ungroomed appearance, all would adore him. Not just for his surface. He is kind—somewhere deep inside. It is visible in his attentions. You can tell that he cares for people. Perhaps, he cares for you. But is it as coworkers? Friends?

	What is your relationship to Lestrade?
*if (lestradeMan = false)
	You study the woman—her body bent and balancing on toes hunched over the deceased. Careful in her methods, careless with herself. Her position, knees bent but not touching the ground—only she could hover for long. But only because she never notices the damage of her aching muscles—then she arrives home, past midnight, dead tired. And the pain hits her and sleep never comes—and she never says it, never thinks it, but how long can she live like this. Lonely, body weary, soul withered.

	Then she stands, and unravels, still wrinkled and lean. 
	She is all darkness, all dressed in black. Her leather glove tightens by her grip. Grace Lestrade, police inspector Lestrade. Grave, lifeless, and a workhorse—that is how you heard her coworkers describe her once. On the outside, this appears a reasonable assessment. Her perpetual glare is indeed alienating. Her tone is reserved. And frequently, she speaks harsh words. Yet, you know she will consider her approach for victims. For them, her voice will turn soft, careful. 

	She is not heartless, or quite as dear to death as people around her might say.

	*page_break
	She is an unusual sight, but not harsh on the eyes.

	Studying Lestrade's figure, you find her buried under layers of shadows. Shadows around her eyes, by the hollow of her cheek, the darkness of her unfastened hair and stern gaze. Underneath it all is a contrasting face. Elegant yet wild. And although her features are now aged and somewhat withered, she is beautiful. She possesses an intense stare, chiselled features, and thick raven hair. Her voice is of a fittingly husky and sombre tone. The lines of her body are direct and dignified, and her movements echo her name.

	If it weren't for her cold exterior and unorthodox appearance, all would adore her. Not just for her surface. She is kind—somewhere deep inside. It is visible in her attentions. You can tell that she cares for people. Perhaps, she cares for you. But is it as coworkers? Friends?

	What is your relationship to Lestrade?

*fake_choice
	# We have never been close.
		*set relationshipBackgroundL "NeverClose"
		You were never close to the inspector. 
		
		You and ${lestradeFullname} never bonded, never had anything deeper than a professional symbiosis. $!{l_he} called, you came, then quickly parted. 

		$!{l_he} was not the type of ${l_man} to offer companionship or seek out comfort in another. And you never felt the need to make a relationship where there was none. So years passed without anything more than a strangely in-sync acquaintance. 
		
		*line_break
	
		[i]—"Sherlock.."[/i]
		*page_break
		—"Sherlock!" ${l_hi} ${lestradeVoice} voice echoes in your head.
		
		"W-What?" you ask as your eyes refocus on Lestrade and ${l_hi} subtly raised eyebrows.
		
		"I asked you if you'd eaten." $!{l_hi} right-hand rubs the back of ${l_hi} neck, with the other ${l_he} holds forward a paper bag, "One of the junior constables bought me too much lunch from around the corner—egg and green pepper sandwiches, nothing fancy, do you want one?" 
		
		$!{l_he} says it so casually. $!{l_he} always does. Even though ${l_he} does this every time. 

		$!{l_he} always seems to consider your comfort when working together, despite your relative distance from one another on a personal level. There is always too much food, a seat left in the carriage, or an extra umbrella.

		Such a strange ${l_man}.
		
	# We have never been close... Which I find makes me sad.
		*set relationshipBackgroundL "SadNeverClose"
		*set friendshipL + 10
		You were never close to the inspector, though you wish you were.
		
		You and ${lestradeFullname} never bonded, never had anything deeper than a professional symbiosis. $!{l_he} called, you came, then quickly parted. 

		$!{l_he} was not the type of ${l_man} to offer companionship or seek out comfort in another. And you never successfully made a relationship where there had never been one. So years passed without anything more than a strangely in-sync acquaintance. 
		
		*line_break
	
		[i]—"Sherlock.."[/i]
		*page_break
		—"Sherlock!" $!{l_hi} ${lestradeVoice} voice echoes in your head.
		
		"W-What?" You ask as your eyes refocus on Lestrade and ${l_hi} subtly raised eyebrows.
		
		"I asked you if you'd eaten." $!{l_hi} right-hand rubs the back of ${l_hi} neck, with the other ${l_he} holds forward a paper bag, "One of the junior constables bought me too much lunch from around the corner—egg and green pepper sandwiches, nothing fancy, do you want one?" 
		
		$!{l_he} says it so casually. $!{l_he} always does. Even though ${l_he} does this every time. 

		$!{l_he} always seems to consider your comfort when working together, despite your relative distance from one another on a personal level. There is always too much food, a seat left in the carriage, or an extra umbrella.

		Such a strange and sweet ${l_man}.
		
	# I care for ${l_him}, and I would like for ${l_him} to consider me a friend.
		*set relationshipBackgroundL "CareForL"
		*set friendshipL + 15
		You were never very close to the inspector, though you wish you were.
		
		You considered ${l_him} your friend, though suspected ${l_he} never thought it anything deeper than a professional symbiosis. It was always the same. $!{l_he} called, you came, then quickly parted. 

		$!{l_he} was not the type of ${l_man} to offer companionship or seek out comfort in another. And you never successfully deepened the relationship that had been still for so long. So years passed without anything more than a strangely in-sync acquaintance. 
		
		*line_break
	
		[i]—"Sherlock.."[/i]
		*page_break
		—"Sherlock!" $!{l_hi} ${lestradeVoice} voice echoes in your head.
		
		"W-What?" You ask as your eyes refocus on Lestrade and ${l_hi} subtly raised eyebrows.
		
		"I asked you if you'd eaten." $!{l_hi} right-hand rubs the back of ${l_hi} neck, with the other ${l_he} holds forward a paper bag, "One of the junior constables bought me too much lunch from around the corner—egg and green pepper sandwiches, nothing fancy, do you want one?" 
		
		$!{l_he} says it so casually. $!{l_he} always does. Even though ${l_he} does this every time. 

		$!{l_he} always seems to consider your comfort when working together, despite your unfortunate distance from one another on a personal level. There is always too much food, a seat left in the carriage, or an extra umbrella.

		Such a strangely sweet ${l_man}.
		
	# Agitating the silly little constable is my favourite sport.
		*set relationshipBackgroundL "AgitatesL"
		*set friendshipL - 5
		*set bickeredL + 5
		You were never close to the inspector, but you always enjoy teasing ${l_him}.
		
		You and ${lestradeFullname} never bonded, never had anything deeper than a professional symbiosis. $!{l_he} called, you came, then quickly parted. But in between the work, there were frequent words. Quick verbal sparring that never failed to drive ${l_him} mad and absolutely thrill you.

		Lestrade was not the type of ${l_man} to offer companionship or seek out comfort in another. And you never felt the need to make a relationship where there was none. So years passed without anything more than a strangely in-sync and quarrelsome acquaintance. 
		
		*line_break
	
		[i]—"Sherlock.."[/i]
		*page_break
		—"Sherlock!" $!{l_hi} ${lestradeVoice} voice echoes in your head.
		
		"W-What?" You ask as your eyes refocus on Lestrade and ${l_hi} subtly raised eyebrows.
		
		"I asked you if you'd eaten." $!{l_hi} right-hand rubs the back of ${l_hi} neck, with the other ${l_he} holds forward a paper bag, "One of the junior constables bought me too much lunch from around the corner—egg and green pepper sandwiches, nothing fancy, do you want one?" 
		
		$!{l_he} says it so casually. $!{l_he} always does. Even though ${l_he} does this every time. 

		$!{l_he} always seems to consider your comfort when working together, despite your biting words towards one another, despite your distance on a personal level. There is always too much food, an extra seat left in the carriage, or a spare umbrella.

		Such a strange ${l_man}.
		
	# There is no relationship of any kind, don't be ridiculous. Lestrade is an idiot, and I tolerate ${l_him} at best.
		*set relationshipBackgroundL "IdiotL"
		*set friendshipL - 15
		*set bickeredL + 5
		You were never close to the inspector, and that suited you perfectly.
		
		You and ${lestradeFullname} had a contentious rapport. Often arguing, always provoking each other. There was never anything deeper than a professional symbiosis. $!{l_he} called, you came, then quickly parted. 

		Thankfully, ${l_he} was not the type of ${l_man} to offer companionship or seek out comfort in another. And you never sought to create a relationship where there had never been one. So years passed without anything more than a continuous and strangely in-sync acquaintance.
		*line_break
	
		[i]—"Sherlock.."[/i]
		*page_break
		—"Sherlock!" $!{l_hi} ${lestradeVoice} voice echoes in your head.
		
		"W-What?" You ask as your eyes refocus on Lestrade and ${l_hi} subtly raised eyebrows.
		
		"I asked you if you'd eaten." $!{l_hi} right-hand rubs the back of ${l_hi} neck, with the other ${l_he} holds forward a paper bag, "One of the junior constables bought me too much lunch from around the corner—egg and green pepper sandwiches, nothing fancy, do you want one?" 
		
		$!{l_he} says it so casually. $!{l_he} always does. Even though ${l_he} does this every time. 

		$!{l_he} always seems to consider your comfort when working together, despite your biting words towards one another, despite your distance on a personal level. There is always too much food, an extra seat left in the carriage, or a spare umbrella.

		Such a bothersome and strange ${l_man}.
	
*fake_choice
	#"Thank you, I would love a sandwich."
		*set friendshipL + 2
		*set sandwichType "all"
		—"Thank you, I would love a sandwich." you say.
		
		$!{l_he} smiles a small smile, a rare genuine smile. $!{l_he} hands you the bag and you take one. White and thick bread wrapped in brown paper, and had it been warm at one point it was no longer. But it tasted wonderful.

	#"I can't dismiss a good egg-and-pepper, even if it is from you, Lestrade," I tease.
		*set friendshipL + 2
		*set sandwichType "all"
		—"I can't refuse eggs and peppers, even if it is from you, Lestrade," I tease.
		
		$!{l_he} meets your words with a glare, but you peek a small smile on ${l_hi} lips.

		The inspector hands you the bag, and you take one. White and thick bread wrapped in brown paper, and had it been warm at one point, it was no longer. But it tasted wonderful.
		
	#"Do you have one without eggs?"
		*set friendshipL + 2
		*set sandwichType "noEggs"
		—"Do you have one without eggs?" you ask.
		
		$!{l_he} smiles a small smile, a rare genuine smile. "I do." $!{l_he} riffles through the bag and hands you a sandwich. The bread is white and thick, wrapped in brown paper, and had it been warm at one point it was no longer. But it tasted wonderful.
		
	#"Do you have one without peppers?"
		*set friendshipL + 2
		*set sandwichType "noPeppers"
		—"Do you have one without peppers?" you ask.		
		
		$!{l_he} smiles a small smile, a rare genuine smile. "I do." $!{l_he} riffles through the bag and hands you a sandwich. The bread is white and thick, wrapped in brown paper, and had it been warm at one point it was no longer. But it tasted wonderful.
		
	*if (cope = "eating") #"You know me, I can always eat."
		*set friendshipL + 2
		*set sandwichType "all"
		—"You know me, I can always eat." you say.
		
		$!{l_he} smiles a small smile, a rare genuine smile. $!{l_he} hands you the bag and you take one. White and thick bread wrapped in brown paper, and had it been warm at one point it was no longer. But it tasted wonderful.
		
	#"No, thank you."
		*set friendshipL + 1
		*set sandwichType "no"
		—"No, thank you." you say.
		
		$!{l_he} nods in response, and takes a sandwich for ${l_himself}.
		
	#"Not hungry."
		*set sandwichType "no"
		—"Not hungry." you say.

		$!{l_he} nods in response, and takes a sandwich for ${l_himself}.
		
	#"The person who keeps buying too much food sure is an idiot."
		*set friendshipL - 6
		*set romanceL - 2
		*set bickeredL + 1
		*set timesMadL + 1
		*set calledLestradeAnIdiot true
		*set sandwichType "idiot"
		—"The person who keeps buying too much food sure is an idiot." you say.
		
		"They are, aren't they…" $!{l_he} looks at you with a look you can't quite place. Lestrade being Lestrade, the look is muted, but it reminds you of discomfort, and perhaps, melancholy. "Don't worry. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."
		
		$!{l_hi} eyes searches something behind you. "Would you excuse me, it seems I have to instruct the officers on the protocol regarding the public." $!{l_he} ends the conversation and walks away.
		
		*page_break
		*goto Crimescene1
		









*page_break

By the only dry corner of the crime scene, you and Lestrade sit in silence.

*comment [i]But, it is strange—[/i]

$!{l_hi} lips, they have not touched the food in almost a minute. 

You are used to the dead air of ${l_hi} company. But, not this. $!{l_he} would have usually consumed ${l_hi} sandwich by now. No more than five or possibly six bites necessary. 

There is a slowness to ${l_him} today. $!{l_he} is quiet, hunched forward, ${l_hi} elbows leaning on ${l_hi} thighs, staring mindlessly ahead. 

This situation is... a little abnormal. 

But at least one thing is the same.

[i]Lestrade and the quiet—[/i]
*fake_choice
	#I always liked that we share a fondness for these soundless moments.
		*set friendshipL + 2
		The silence with Lestrade is a welcome companion for the two of you, allowing you and ${l_him} to consider situations and cases undisturbed. Other times it's relaxing. Calm. Serene. Entire conversations without talking. There is an understanding that quiet is acceptable, even good, and there is no pressure to change it without cause. 

		There are moments of peace when alone with Lestrade—something not often found when you are left to your own thoughts.

		[i]But... something feels different today...[/i]

		Lestrade breaks the silence. "Tell me," ${l_he} has fully stopped eating now, with ${l_hi} bread-holding hand hanging just over ${l_hi} leg. "Do you remember the first case we worked on together?"

	#I always wished ${l_he} would just say something, anything. I never know what to do with the tension—
		The silence is more than unpleasant, like needles on flesh. Every sting is a reminder of words you should utter but never do. Why does ${l_he} not speak? $!{l_he} must know you feel like this—or, [i]perhaps not[/i]. You have never told ${l_him}. You can not.

		Today the silence stretches to every inch of your body—there is tension between the two of you—but you do not know why.

		Finally, ${l_he} speaks, and you can breathe again. "Tell me," ${l_he} has fully stopped eating. $!{l_hi} bread-holding hand hangs just over ${l_hi} leg. "Do you remember the first case we worked on together?"
	#I always found ${l_hi} silence to be irksome. What point is there when I do not wish to spend non-work-time with ${l_him}.
		*set friendshipL - 2
		*if (sandwichType != "no")
			The quiet is tedious and inefficient; why ${l_he} prefers it, you have never understood.

			You are so close to the crime scene, and it would be such a pleasure to explore it... Perhaps, if you hurry in consuming your food, you could leave ${l_him} here and—

			But before you could begin enacting your plan, Lestrade breaks the silence. "Tell me," ${l_he} has fully stopped eating. $!{l_hi} bread-holding hand hangs just over ${l_hi} leg. "Do you remember the first case we worked on together?"

		*if (sandwichType = "no")
			The quiet is tedious and inefficient; why ${l_he} prefers it, you have never understood.

			You are so close to the crime scene, and it would be such a pleasure to explore it... Perhaps, if sneak off quietly you could leave ${l_him} here and—

			But before you could begin enacting your plan, Lestrade breaks the silence. "Tell me," ${l_he} has fully stopped eating. $!{l_hi} bread-holding hand hangs just over ${l_hi} leg. "Do you remember the first case we worked on together?"

	#I would [i]always[/i] say something to break the lull. Silence such as this is deafening.
		This sort of speechlessness is more than unpleasant. You imagine you are hearing the blood in your veins, and every painful pulse is a reminder of words unspoken. It is the uncertainty of the situation, immediately fuelling your mind with every possibility, each one worse than the next. 

		Why does ${l_he} not speak?! Is ${l_he} incapable? Hesitant? Afraid? 

		You do not know. You never asked. 

		[i]But how could you ask ${l_him}?[/i] Lestrade is not the kind of ${l_man} one asks such a thing, and if you did, you would never get an answer.

		Today the silence feels uncommonly heavy, thick with unstated unease. There is tension between the two of you, but you don't know why.

		You are about to speak when—

		Lestrade breaks the silence ${l_he} imposed so heavily. "Tell me," ${l_he} has fully stopped eating. $!{l_hi} bread-holding hand hangs just over ${l_hi} leg. "Do you remember the first case we worked on together?"
	*selectable_if (sandwichType != "no") #I am glad ${l_he} is this way, it means more time to concentrate on the crime, and the food.
		*set friendshipL + 1
		Today, you are definitely glad of the silence. It allows you to focus on your food and the case, undisturbed. That is how it often is; how you prefer it. There is an understanding that quiet is acceptable, even good—and there is no pressure to change it unless there is cause. 

		[i]But something feels unusual today...[/i]

		Lestrade breaks the silence. "Tell me," ${l_he} has fully stopped eating, with ${l_hi} bread-holding hand hangs just over ${l_hi} leg. "Do you remember the first case we worked on together?"


*fake_choice
	# "No, not really. It was so many years ago."
		—"No, not really. It was so many years ago," you say.

	# "Yes, of course."
		—"Yes, of course," you say.

	# "Not very clearly, was there something noteworthy about the case?"
		—"Not very clearly, was there something noteworthy about the case?" you ask.
		
	# "Yes, but why don't you remind me anyway..." I lie
		—"Yes, but why don't you remind me anyway..." you lie.

	# "Look, Lestrade, I don't have time for whatever this is..."
		*set friendshipL - 2
		—"Look, Lestrade, I don't have time for whatever this is..." You stand to walk away.

		$!{l_he} hangs ${l_hi} head and desperately breathes an objection, "Just sit down, will you? I need to say something."
		*fake_choice
			# "I'm sorry, but I can't."
				—"I'm sorry, but I can't." You walk away from the ${l_man}, and ${l_he} does not protest again.

				You have a case to solve. Whatever Lestrade wants to say will have to wait.
				*goto Crimescene1

			# "No."
				*set friendshipL - 1
				—"No." You walk away from the ${l_man}. And the finality of your tone appears successful as ${l_he} does not protest again.

				You have a case to solve. Whatever Lestrade wants is trivial in comparison.
				*goto Crimescene1
			# "Fine, but make it quick."
				—"Fine, but make it quick." You sit back down.

				You have a case to solve, but perhaps, whatever Lestrade has to say is important too?
			#I sit back down.
				You sit back down.

				It is true, you have a case to solve, but perhaps, whatever Lestrade has to say is important too?

Sitting barely one arm reach away, ${l_he} allows ${l_hi} voice to go low. $!{l_hi} words slowed, soothing. "I remember it clearly, the first day we met."

*page_break

"Life was... different for us both. You were not who you are today. Nor was I." You hear the leather of Lestrade's glove creases aloud by the clenching of ${l_hi} unoccupied fist.

"The case was high priority. A 'kidnapped' young noble. I was assigned to take charge. Captain hinted at promotion to detective, pay rise, my own command. Even control of chosen cases. If the case was solved without a hitch. Christ. I spent every hour for two days on the case, practically getting nowhere, and every clue contradicted the next—

Lestrade's eyes look to you, but their focus seems far past your sitting form. "Then you appeared. Apparently, the [i]victim's[/i] family had, in their paranoia—contacted you. I don't know how they found you. But there you were..."

*fake_choice
	# I listen quietly to the story.
	# "This is an unusually long tirade from you..."
		*set bickeredL + 2
		*set friendshipL - 1
		"This is an unusually long tirade from you..."

		"Would you let me finish?!" Lestrade practically growls.

		*fake_choice
			#"..."
				$!{l_he} sighs before speaking again.

			#"Fine."
				$!{l_he} sighs before speaking again.

			#"Alright—I apologise, go on."
				*set friendshipL + 1
				$!{l_he} sighs before speaking again.

			#"No. I do not have time for this."
				*set friendshipL - 2
				You walk away from the ${l_man} and ${l_he} doesn't protest again.

				You have a case to solve. Whatever Lestrade wants to say is not your priority.
				*goto Crimescene1

"I had never seen anything like it. Ten minutes on the scene, a two-minute talk with the maid, and a quick run down to the cellar—fifteen minutes at most. There he was. Hidden in a nook, well-fed and without a scratch. The ink of the note and the slant of the letters proved to you that the maid wrote the ransom note—in coordination with the victim himself. Because, and I quote, 'the maid would be unlikely to know the words 'behove' and 'obfuscate' when she misspelt [i]ransom[/i]'. Two minutes with the maid to make it certain. Added on to the gambling debt you surmised about the young man—

"Did you follow a food trail down to the cellar, or did I misremember that bit? Not that it matters. It might as well have been magic... You did it. In no time at all. 

"It was all very hush-hush afterwards. But, Captain was pleased enough. And you took your substantial reward from the nobles... And... I gave you my card. In return, you gave me yours."

*fake_choice
	# "It was the cleverest thing you have ever done—recognising my talent."
		*set friendshipL - 1
		*set bickeredL + 1
		"It was the cleverest thing you've ever done—recognising my talent."

		"Is that so."

		"It is."

		The only response you get is a low acknowledging grunt.
	# "I really do not remember you being there..."
		*set friendshipL - 2
		"I really do not remember you being there..."

		"... Great."
	# "I remember meeting you that day. And for what it is worth, I am glad we met."
		*set friendshipL + 2
		"I remember meeting you that day. And for what it is worth, I am glad we met."

		$!{l_hi} brows lift, and black eyes study yours. But that is all.
	# "Hmm."
		"Hmm."

		"Mmm."
*page_break

The inspector's gaze looks ahead again, into nothing but a scene of mud and wet blood. "You seemed content. Back then. Even with a case that was over in less than an hour."

The statement hung in the air like a question for much too long.

$!{l_he} clears ${l_hi} throat.

"I wanted to say, that, I think, keeping busy helps... And I understand that in your case—I mean for you—the cases are not always satisfactory. That's part of the problem, correct? But... There will be something.

*if (friendshipL < 53)
	"Hold on a little longer."
*if (friendshipL > 52)
	"Hold on a little longer, $!{mc_name}."

*temp mentionedDroppedSandwich false
*fake_choice
	#"That, that was it? Blazes, I miss the closemouthed you."
		*set friendshipL - 4
		*set bickeredL + 2
		*set timesMadL + 1
		*set lestradeMad1 true
		"That, that was it? Blazes, I miss the closemouthed you."

		"Oh, would you just—" Lestrade begins but holds ${l_hi} tongue. "Leave. Jump off a cliff for all I care."

		So you do. 

		You leave Lestrade and return to the crime scene.
	#"Have you gone soft on me, detective?" I say, smirking and turning towards ${l_him}.
		*set romanceL + 1
		*set lestradeEmbaressed true
		"Have you gone soft on me, detective?" you say, smirking and turning towards ${l_him}.

		"Soft?! I have never been accused of—" $!{l_he} catches your sharp-edged smile and seems stunned. And at that moment, ${l_he} drops ${l_hi} sandwich, which lands in a pooling sludge of dirt and muck.

		"Shit!"
		*label LdropSandwich2
		*fake_choice
			#"You dropped your sandwich—"
				*set friendshipL - 1
				*set bickeredL + 1
				*set mentionedDroppedSandwich true
				"—I AM AWARE, SHERLOCK."
				
				*label LdropSandwich1
				"..."

				"Don't say a word."

				"..."

				"[i]Don't[/i]."

				*fake_choice
					#"You dropped it—"
						*if (mentionedDroppedSandwich)
							*set friendshipL - 3
							*set bickeredL + 1
							*set timesMadL + 1
							*set lestradeEmbaressed false
							"I am aware of that—[i]hell and damnation—would you let it go!?[/i]" Lestrade stands, followed by a deep breath. "Stay or not. I have a job to do." $!{l_he} walks away, mouth muttering expletives under ${l_hi} breath.

							

						*if (mentionedDroppedSandwich = false)
							*set lestradeEmbaressed false
							*set friendshipL - 2
							*set bickeredL + 1
							*set timesMadL + 1
							"I am aware of that—[i]hell and damnation![/i]" Lestrade stands, followed by a deep breath. "Stay or not. I have a job to do." $!{l_he} walks away, mouth muttering expletives under ${l_hi} breath.

						*goto Crimescene1
					*selectable_if (sandwichType != "no") #"Do you want the rest of my sandwich, ${lestradeName}?" I offer my half-eaten sandwich.
						*set friendshipL + 3
						*set romanceL + 1
						*set lestradeEmbaressed true
						"Do you want the rest of my sandwich, ${lestradeName}?" You offer your half-eaten sandwich.

						Lestrade's gaze turns to the food offered, to where your lips have touched. "No—no–there is no need. I had lost my appetite long before I... Well. My food is done, I'll return to the scene. Good luck with... It." $!{l_he} walks away, ears tinged with red and mouth muttering '[i]good luck[/i]?!' under ${l_hi} breath.

						*goto Crimescene1
					*selectable_if (sandwichType != "no") #"I'm afraid I already ate my sandwich. Otherwise, I [i]might[/i] have offered it..."
						*set friendshipL + 3
						"I'm afraid I already ate my sandwich. Otherwise, I [i]might[/i] have offered it..." you explain.

						"I'm alright..."

						"Good. Because, as I said, I already ate it."

						"I am aware."

						"Mmm."

						There is a pause, but as you both are technically finished with lunch, you dust yourselves off and return to the scene of the crime.

						*goto Crimescene1

					#"..."
						*set lestradeEmbaressed true

						Lestrade stands, followed by a deep breath. "Stay, or not, I—I have a job to do." $!{l_he} walks away, ears tinged with red and mouth muttering expletives under ${l_hi} breath.

						*goto Crimescene1
					*selectable_if (sandwichType != "no") #I drop my sandwich in the mud in solidarity.
						*set friendshipL + 4
						*set lestradeEmbaressed true
						You drop your sandwich in the mud in solidarity. It seems like the right thing to do at this moment.

						"... Um. Why did you do that, ${mc_name}?"

						"You did—I did too..." 

						Lestrade's eyes narrow, but ${l_he} looks, at the very least, [i]unpeeved[/i]. "I see that."

						"Mmm. It is too bad. About the sandwiches. But, we will get over it." You smile at ${lestradeName}. "Together."

						$!{l_hi} gaze looks to your muddy late lunch and to ${l_hi}. A small smile plays on Lestrade's lips. The detective stands to walks away but stops and looks back at you. "Come on, $!{mc_name}. Let's get back to work. [i]We[/i] have a job to do." 

						*goto Crimescene1
			#"..."

				*goto LdropSandwich1
			#"Lestrade... Why did you drop your sandwich?"
				*set mentionedDroppedSandwich true
				*set mcIgnorantToL + 1
				"It was hardly on purpose, Sherlock. Just—don't."

				*goto LdropSandwich1


	#"Thank you..." Lestrade's words seem to warm me, despite the irrationality of such an idea.
		*set friendshipL + 2
		*set romanceL + 1
		*set lestradeEmbaressed true
		"Thank you..." you say, meaning every word and smiling softly towards ${l_him}.

		"There's no need to thank—" $!{l_he} meets your warm honeyed gaze and seems stunned. And at that moment, ${l_he} drops ${l_hi} sandwich, which lands in a pooling sludge of dirt and muck.

		"Shit!"
		*page_break
		*goto LdropSandwich1

	#I only return a smile, as that is all I can manage when my stomach feels something akin to butterflies.
		*set friendshipL + 2
		*set romanceL + 1
		*set lestradeEmbaressed true
		You feel nervous, excited, and warm—[i]and do not know why.[/i]

		But, you hope a smile is reply enough—

		"I only wanted—" $!{l_he} meets your soft sincere gaze and seems stunned. And at that moment, ${l_he} drops ${l_hi} sandwich, which lands in a pooling sludge of dirt and muck.

		"Shit!"
		*page_break
		*goto LdropSandwich1

	#"Thank you." 
		*set friendshipL + 2
		"Thank you," you say.

		$!{l_he} simply nods in affirmation and acceptance. 

		Lestrade wolfs down ${l_hi} sandwich in five bites, you both make your way back to the centre of the crime scene.
		
		*goto Crimescene1
	#"..." 
		*set friendshipL + 1
		You both sit in silence, again. 

		Lestrade wolfs down ${l_hi} sandwich in no more than five bites, and you both make your way back to the centre of the crime scene.
		
		*goto Crimescene1

*goto Crimescene1









*page_break
*goto Crimescene1




*label CrimesceneConclude0

Time to end this charade.

The killer is evident. The motive is unclear.

Let's assemble the clues.
*goto CrimesceneConclude1

*label CrimesceneConclude1

*page_break

[b]What do you remember? [/b]

The murderer is probably shorter than the murdered man. 
They are inexperienced at killing, or bad at doing their research for killing. 
And the evidence suggests that they are either a previously unheard of criminal mastermind, or they never left the scene.

The witness is short, shorter than the victim.
The witness claimed the victim was dead at the scene, but circumstances make that unlikely.
The witness claimed she did not have an umbrella, but the barman said she carried an umbrella matching the appearance of the murder weapon.


*goto CrimesceneConclude2
*label CrimesceneConclude2

The killer is obviously…

*fake_choice
	*hide_reuse	#Lestrade
		The killer is obviously not Lestrade.
		
		Just… no.
	*hide_reuse	#The boisterous barman
		The killer is obviously not the boisterous barman.
		
		—And he has a whole pub full of witnesses to his alibi.
	*hide_reuse	#Your carriage driver, Frank
		The killer is obviously not Frank.
		
		Why did Frank even appear in your mind? And how would he have had time to drive back and forth so much in that horrible weather—It's just not possible.
	*hide_reuse	#Miss Cotter, the witness
		*goto CrimesceneConclude3
	*hide_reuse	#The young enthusiastic police officer from before.
		The killer is obviously not the young police officer.
		
		While over-eagerness is a suspicious trait, he was working at the time of the murder.
	*hide_reuse	#[i]Him[/i]. The original killer, who escaped, somehow...
		The killer is obviously not [i]him[/i], as much as you wish it was.
	*hide_reuse	#A mysterious figure who made a perfect escape and has yet to be identified.
		The killer is obviously not some mysterious figure who just disappeared without a trace.

		The simplest explanation is usually the right one. Let's try again.

*goto CrimesceneConclude2

*label CrimesceneConclude3

—The killer is obviously Miss Cotter, the witness.

But there are so many things you don't know.

For example, the timing must have depended on rain, something beyond any mortal's power to control. In addition, the original killer's profile demanded a specific type of man. 

Coincidences such as this do not occur. This was achieved, engineered. 

The original killer had the fortune of time. He stalked and waited on his prey. Our new little murderess did not. So, how was the victim brought [i]here[/i] at that exact time? Was his death exclusively desired, or did he just fit the bill?

And why like this? Why play the copycat? 
*line_break
Why her? Why him?

Something significant is missing, and you intend to find out just what that is.

*page_break

You call upon Lestrade whilst walking towards the witness. Miss Cotter is still sitting down, still hugging her own lithe form, when you and the inspector arrive in front of her.

Lestrade looks at you, then looks at the witness, then back at you. "Care to explain what I'm doing here?" ${l_he} asks you.

*fake_choice
	#"I would love to."
		—"I would love to. You see, Miss Cotter here—is a liar," you say.

	#"Why don't you ask Miss Cotter?"
		—"Why don't you ask Miss Cotter?" you say.

		You both look at the young girl, her mouth opening and closing but saying nothing. She stares up at the both of you with her large bloodshot eyes. 

		"Do you have something to say, Miss?" Lestrade asks her. 

		She shakes her head. 

		"Yes, she does—she's been lying this whole time," you contradict her.

	#"Of course, inspector, let me clarify the situation for you."
		—"Of course, inspector, let me clarify the situation for you. Miss Cotter has been spinning us lies," you say.

	#"You really haven't figured it out yet? Honestly, Lestrade—"
		*set bickeredL + 1
		—"You really haven't figured it out yet? Honestly, Lestrade, it's obvious. Miss Cotter is lying," you say.

*if (lestradeMan) 
	"NO! No, no, no..." she protests, her eyes searching Lestrade's, "Sir—Sir, I would never, please believe me." Tears form in her eyes, threatening to fall. Clinging, clawing, at the blanket. Head shaking from side to side. 
*if (lestradeMan = false)
	"NO! No, no, no..." she protests, her eyes searching Lestrade's, "Madam—Madam, I would never, please believe me." Tears form in her eyes, threatening to fall. Clinging, clawing, at the blanket. Head shaking from side to side. 

This is foolish. You need her to speak; you need her motive, the details. How do you get her to confess in a condition such as this... 

"${mc_name}, do you remember Richard Thornhill?" Lestrade asks you, ${l_hi} voice unclear for interpretation.

*page_break
[i]Richard Thornhill[/i]

Why is ${l_he} talking about Richard Thornhill?

What does that old case have to do with anythi—Oh. Of course. 

Richard Thornhill was the suspect in one of the first cases you ever solved together. A tightly woven, tightly-lipped aristocrat accused of killing his mistress and business partner in cold blood. He refused to say a word to the both of you. Nothing you ever did had any effect. 

Until you had the brilliant idea of playing a little game. Lestrade would pretend to be on Richard's side while you played the villain. One gained the suspect's confidence, the other his hate and fear. A good-guy versus bad-guy type situation, if you will. 

Shortly after, the man crumbled, his words coming apart far too easily by the play-acting. He was indubitably guilty, of more counts than you even suspected, and was locked away for life.

Lestrade wants to play a game then. Do you?

*temp mainActor ""

*choice
	# I do.
		*set friendshipL + 3
		*set mainActor "You"
		"Of course I remember Richard. He always disliked me, did he not? Called me cruel—to my face. Is that the Richard you are referring to?" you ask, clarifying your role, and hoping that Lestrade really has a plan for where this is going.

		"Yes, that Richard." The corners of Lestrade's mouth rise, not enough to notice for most, but having known ${l_him} long enough, it's as clear a sign as a wink and a nod. "I only ask because we accused him of lying, and we were wrong. I don't want to make the same mistake here. Miss Cotter is an innocent. She's a victim, same as the deceased. And accusing her of dubious behaviour won't aid our investigation." 

		"Nonsense, I have proof!" you raise your voice a bit too much.

		*label CrimesceneConclude4a
		*fake_choice
			*hide_reuse	#"She is short!"

				"She is short!" you exclaim.

				Lestrade furrows ${l_hi} brow.

				"—I mean, the killer had to have been short, or, I mean, it's only a theory... But she is short... it is the most probable event," you try and explain.
				
				"That's—that is circumstantial evidence at best, it won't hold up in cou—I mean, that is no proof! How could a girl as small as she kill a man as he? Why her frail arms couldn't bruise someone of his size!" You can almost see Lestrade internally cringing; honestly, this is not ${l_hi} best work. But, thankfully, the witness does not seem to notice and is hanging on to our every word.

				*goto CrimesceneConclude4a

			*hide_reuse	#"The man was not dead, as she claims, when she arrived at the scene!" I try and bluff.
				—"The man was not dead, as she claims, when she arrived at the scene!" you bluff in a loud and confident voice.

				You have no proof, it's a hunch, a probability. A likely theory, but a theory nonetheless. 

				Please, let it work.

				—"He wasn't, no—and how would you know? I was there. He looked dead, being wrong is no crime, and I am no doctor. It's not like I could have helped him if he wasn't dead... I couldn't save him... I couldn't..." 

				She appears mournful at your accusation, but it appears to have not worked, she is still cautious and defensive.

				*goto CrimesceneConclude4a

			*hide_reuse	#"The lady told me she did not have an umbrella, but according to the barman, she did!"
				"The lady told me she did not have an umbrella, but according to the barman, she did!" you practically shout.

				Lestrade's eyebrows unfurrow, rising a little. "There has to have been some misunderstanding, I am sure there is a perfectly good explanation for all that. Tell ${mc_xim}, Miss Cotter," ${l_he} says.

				She looks at ${l_him} and nods fervently. "Y—Yes, I had an umbrella, I misspoke. I did have one, only I dropped it after I tripped, and I think someone stole it, or it blew away with the wind... I—I don't know where it went. That is the truth."

				"It was stolen? Well, if you could describe it, we might be able to find it for you, miss." Lestrade asks.

				"Yes, yes, of course. It was blue fabric on the canopy and light wood for a handle. But, you'll never find something stolen in this neighbourhood. It was very cheap, you don't need to look for it."

				"Your friend, the owner of that pub, said it was grey," you reply.

				*page_break

				The witness's face turns yet another shade of pale. "He's wrong, he must've been confused. There were so many people, he must've been confused..."

				You turn in the direction of the dead man and the murder weapon. "In-fact, your friend, the barman, what he described sounded exactly like the murder weapon." You point towards the umbrella and stare back at her. "—I think you left the bar with that weapon, intending on killing that man, lying there. You tracked him down, tricked him into turning his back, and stabbed him with the weapon."

				"No! No, I couldn't have done something so horrid, I didn't!" Her voice is loud now, frantic. Her whole body moves as she denies the accusations.

				"I think you stabbed him in the back—but then he wouldn't die. He lay there, crying, gasping, pleading for help. Asking for your help, asking for his mother or God, and you pushed the weapon deeper. That is why you keep hiding your hands that are still red with his blood, and your shoes so dirtied by mud. You had to sit by his side, or even on him, by the road's muddy edge, and press the handle with all your might. Leaning into him as he screamed. His lungs would be filling with blood and fluid, drowning slowly from the inside. Did you have to push the handle down and inwards to puncture his heart, was it then you finally managed to kill him, after all that pain? Was it because you hated him you tortured him so?!"

				"I DIDN'T KNOW HIM!" she screams. Her tears fall fast, faster than the rain. 
				
				"I didn't know him... when I..." She closes her eyes hard and shakes her head. "No one deserves... to die... like that." Like a heavy burden had lifted, her shoulders sag, and the words depart from her lips. "I killed him."

				*label confession_a
				*page_break

				You and Lestrade share a glance. A confession. She confessed. 

				The adrenaline in your body drains away, and your body feels heavier. You can't quit now. There are still so many unanswered questions. 
				
				But, you feel so very exhausted.

				*if (((mainActor = "You") or (mainActor = "You2")) and (calledLestradeAnIdiot))
					Lestrade glances at you, "Would you tell us what happened?" ${l_he} asks carefully, softly, as ${l_he} grabs a stool from behind ${l_himself} and is about to place it next to you, when ${l_he} hesitates. $!{l_he} makes a grimace, but offers you the seat anyway. You accept it by sitting down.

				*if ((mainActor = "Lestrade") and (calledLestradeAnIdiot))
					Lestrade glances at you, "Would you tell us what happened?" ${l_he} asks, ${l_hi} voice now careful, soft. $!{l_he} grabs a stool from behind ${l_himself} and is about to place it next to you, when ${l_he} hesitates. $!{l_he} makes a grimace, but offers you the seat anyway. You accept it by sitting down.

				*if ((mainActor = "You") or (mainActor = "You2"))
					Lestrade glances at you, "Would you tell us what happened?" ${l_he} asks carefully, softly, as ${l_he} grabs a stool from behind ${l_himself} and places it next to you. You sit down.

				*if (mainActor = "Lestrade")
					Lestrade glances at you, "Would you tell us what happened?" ${l_he} asks, ${l_hi} voice now careful, soft. $!{l_he} grabs a stool from behind ${l_himself} and places it next to you. You sit down.


					
				
				Miss Cotter takes four deep breaths until she speaks again, "I got a letter. And a package with an umbrella. They said the next time it rained heavily, I would get another letter. I was given a time, and I knew the place. There was a name and a description.

				They said he was a bad man, they said... They said he hurt... girls like me. The letter told me how to use... how to kill with the weapon. They told me how I should do it best, how to be quick. They promised..." she quiets.
						
				*temp counter2 0
				*label confession_b
				*fake_choice

					*hide_reuse	#"What did they promise?"
						*set counter2 + 1
						—"What did they promise?" you ask.

						She looks down at her hands, blood in the creases and under the nails. "They promised it would be quick. Easy." She wipes the residue of tears off her cheek with a clean part of her forearm. "That I would get away with it. That he deserved it. That I wouldn't hang if... That they would make sure of it."

						The witness—the murderer—looks over at the dead man. 

						"They promised me money. For my so—for my brother. They promised me enough money to make him better, for medicine, and to live a good life. To move away and start over... I think my aunt will care for him now, at least he will live."

						"You think they will keep their end of the bargain?" Lestrade asks.

						"Had I not believed so, I could not have done it," she says in a voice, clear and firm, unlike the character she has so far possessed.

						She truly believes them...
						
						*goto confession_b

					*hide_reuse	#"Where do you keep the letters?"
						*set counter2 + 1
						—"Where do you keep the letters?" you ask.

						"They told me to burn them," she says.

						*goto confession_b

					*hide_reuse	#"What went wrong? What happened when you left the pub?"
						*set counter2 + 1
						—"What went wrong? What happened when you left the pub?" you ask.

						"I had had a drink at the pub. It was close to the meet up, but I felt like I couldn't think, like I couldn't breathe—so I—I had a drink. And as I left the pub, with all that rain, I couldn't find my way. Every street looked different, and there was no one around to ask. I knew I must've been late, so I ran. Then I slipped on the stone, but somehow, I didn't fall. He had caught me. 

						"He looked at me and smiled. His coat was all wet from the rain, and he told me I had done right bringing an umbrella with me out today. He introduced himself, I don't think he knew who I was, that I was the one he was expecting to meet. And I didn't think it could have been him until I heard his name. He didn't look sinful... or even mean. I've known sinful and mean. And he didn't look it. He looked like... someone I knew once. Not that he could've been [i]him[/i]."

						The sitting Miss Cotter leans down and envelops her knees and legs in a hug. Placing her chin into her knees, burying her face from sight. So she sits, while no one speaks.

						*page_break

						"I don't remember how it happened," she starts again. "Why I... 

						"But his back was turned and I did it. I did it. I remember his knees buckled, and he fell strangely, as if frozen—I heard him cry out, there was a sharp gasp, like all the air exited his lungs at once. But he just wouldn't die. He said it hurt. He said he was scared..." You can see her back shaking from renewed crying.

						Minutes go by before you hear her again. Her voice was quiet now, almost a whisper. "Soon someone would've come by. But, I couldn't leave him like that. It was like you said... I leaned by the handle and I pushed, as hard as I could. And then he was dead...

						"I think I sat there for a while, before someone found us... Me. Then the police came."
						
						*goto confession_b
					*hide_reuse	#"Who are they?"
						*set counter2 + 1
						—"Who are they?" you ask.

						"I don't know... There were only ever letters," she says.

						Lestrade leaves from the spot by the tent where you've all been rooted. $!{l_he} comes back with two blankets, and gently hands one to Miss Cotter. The other, ${l_he} hands to you. 

						*fake_choice
							#You accept the blanket.
								*set acceptedBlanket true
								*set friendshipL + 2
								You take the blanket. It's soft, almost warm, detailed with dark patterns of brown and black. You didn't notice how cold you had become until you wrapped the fabric around yourself.
								*if (calledLestradeAnIdiot)
									And in the corner of your eye, you see a small satisfied smile on Lestrade's lips.
									

							#You reject the blanket.
								*set friendshipL - 5
								You shake you head in a 'no', and Lestrade places the blanket to the side.

						"Is there anything, anything at all, you can tell us about the letters?" Lestrade asks the criminal now cocooned in many blankets.

						One of her hands brushes over the other, over and over, in a soft caress. "Sometimes you hear things, people who have left this area for better ones, some who have had bad people in their lives disappear. It's never more than a whisper. I think they sent the letter." Her eyes are large, and her voice is filled with a quality of wonder, like how one speaks of far-off lands and monsters under the bed.
						
						*goto confession_b


					*if (counter2 = 4) #Conclude the investigation
						*goto CrimesceneConclude5

				*goto CrimesceneConclude4a


	# I do. But it's my turn to play the good guy.
		*set friendshipL + 2
		*set mainActor "You"
		*set actedWithLestradeBad true
		"Of course I remember Richard. He always really liked me, did he not? But he called you cruel—to your face. Is that the Richard you are referring to?" you ask, clarifying your changed roles, and hoping that Lestrade really has a plan for where this is going.

		$!{l_he} cocked a brow in surprise, "Yes, that Richard," the corners of Lestrade's mouth rise, not enough to notice for most, but having known ${l_him} long enough, it's as clear a sign as a wink and a nod. "I only ask because he was a downright scoundrel, endlessly lying and scheming, when he first had me fooled. You say Miss Cotter is not an innocent, and I believe you... I see now I was fooled yet again."

		You have to commend ${l_hi} improvisation, for a ${l_man} so rigid, ${l_hi} acting is surprisingly dramatic.

		But, Lestrade already had a rapport with the witness, it will be harder to flip the script now...

		Time to make her believe your sympathies, "But, Lestrade, she is innocent! There must be a good reason for spinning tales. Tell ${l_him}, Miss Cotter, tell ${l_him} of your misfortune that must've surely occurred!" you say with even more [i]dramatics[/i].

		"Sherlock, cease with your endless compassion! Always taking the side of the victim—" ${l_he} says, less than believable, turning away from the witness to hide any sign of a grimace or smirk, "—listen to reason. Come now, tell me what you suspect the witness of, what lies she spins!"

		*label CrimesceneConclude4b
		*fake_choice
			*hide_reuse	#"Well, she is short..."

				"Well, she is short..." you say.

				Lestrade furrows ${l_hi} brow.

				"—I mean, the killer had to have been short, or, I mean, it's only a theory... But she is short... it is a most probable event," you try and explain.
				
				"That's—that is circumstantial evidence at best, it won't hold up in court," ${l_he} says... and ${l_he} is right.

				*goto CrimesceneConclude4b

			*hide_reuse	#"The man was not dead, as she claims, when she arrived at the scene..." (bluff)
				—"The man was not dead, as she claims, when she arrived at the scene..." you bluff in a, hopefully, disappointed sounding tone.

				You have no proof, it's a hunch, a probability. A likely theory, but a theory nonetheless. 

				Please, let it work.

				—"He wasn't, no—and how would you know? I was there. He looked dead, being wrong is no crime, and I am no doctor. It's not like I could have helped him if he wasn't dead... I couldn't save him... I couldn't..." 

				She appears mournful at your accusation, but it appears not to have worked. The girl remains cautious and defensive.

				*goto CrimesceneConclude4b
			
			*hide_reuse	#"The lady told me she did not have an umbrella, but according to the barman, she did."
				"The lady told me she did not have an umbrella, but according to the barman, she did," you say.

				Lestrade's eyebrows unfurrow, rising a little. "That is a grave lie indeed..."

				You look, with sympathy, into the witness's eyes, "There has to have been some misunderstanding, I am sure there is a perfectly good explanation for all that. Tell ${l_him}, Miss Cotter," you urge her.

				She looks at you and nods fervently, "Y—Yes, I had an umbrella, I misspoke. I did have one, only I dropped it after I tripped, and I think someone stole it, or it blew away with the wind... I—I don't know where it went. That is the truth."

				"It was stolen? Well, if you could describe it, we might be able to find it for you, Miss," you say.

				"Yes, yes, of course. It was blue fabric on the canopy and light wood for a handle. But, you'll never find something stolen in this neighbourhood. It was very cheap, you don't need to look for it."

				"But, your friend, the owner of that pub, said it was grey," you reply.

				*page_break

				The witness's face turns yet another shade of pale. "He is wrong, he must've been confused. There were so many people, he must've been confused..."

				You hand Lestrade a note—${l_he} better pull this performance off.

				Lestrade takes your note, hiding it in ${l_hi} hand. $!{l_he} turns to the direction of the dead man and the murder weapon, ${l_hi} back now to the witness. "The barman, what he described sounded exactly like the murder weapon," Lestrade says, pointing towards the umbrella, "—I think you left the bar with that weapon, intending on killing that man, lying there. You tracked him down, tricked him into turning his back, and stabbed him with your weapon."

				"No! No, I couldn't have done something so horrid, I didn't!" Her voice is loud now, frantic. She looks into your eyes, pleading for your help. Her whole body moves as she denies the accusations.

				Lestrade turns back to the witness, now hopefully having read the full note. $!{l_hi} penetrating gaze on the young lady, ${l_hi} voice dark. "I think you stabbed him in the back—but then he wouldn't die. He laid there, crying, gasping, pleading for help. Asking for your help, asking for god, and you pushed the weapon deeper. That is why you keep hiding your hands that are still red with his blood, and your shoes so dirtied by mud. You had to sit by his side, or even on him, by the road's muddy edge, and press the handle with all your might. Leaning into him as he screamed. His lungs would be filling with blood and fluid, drowning slowly from the inside. Did you have to push the handle down and inwards to puncture his heart, was it then you finally managed to kill him, after all that pain? Was it because you hated him you tortured him so?!"

				"I DIDN'T KNOW HIM!" she screamed. Her tears fall fast, faster than the rain. 
				
				"I didn't know him... when I..." She closes her eyes hard and shakes her head. "No one deserves... to die... like that." Like a heavy burden had lifted, her shoulders sag, and the words depart from her lips, "I killed him."

				*goto confession_a


	# I want it to be known I am a reluctant participant in this plan.
		*set friendshipL + 1
		*set bickeredL + 1
		*set mainActor "You2"
		"Lestrade, I hated Richard. Stupid thing to bring up. But, of course I remember Richard 'Bedswerver' Thornhill. I suppose that idiot is the Richard you are referring to?" You say, hoping that Lestrade really has a plan for where this is going.

		"Yes, that Richard," The corners of Lestrade's mouth rise, not enough to notice for most, but having known ${l_him} long enough, it's as clear a sign as a wink and a nod. "I only ask because we accused him of lying, and we were wrong. I don't want to make the same mistake here. Miss Cotter is an innocent. She's a victim, same as the deceased. And accusing her of dubious behaviour won't aid our investigation." 

		"Well, I have proof?" you say, with little enthusiasm.

		*label CrimesceneConclude4c

		*fake_choice
			*hide_reuse	#"She is short..."

				"She is short..." you say.

				Lestrade furrows ${l_hi} brow.

				"—I mean, the killer had to have been short, or, I mean, it's only a theory... But she is short... it is the most probable event," you try and explain.
				
				"That's—that is circumstantial evidence at best, it won't hold up in cou—I mean, that is no proof! How could a girl as small as she kill a man as he? Why her frail arms couldn't bruise someone of his size!" You can almost see Lestrade internally cringing; honestly, this is not ${l_hi} best work. But, thankfully, the witness does not seem to notice and is hanging on to ${l_hi} every word.

				*goto CrimesceneConclude4c

			*hide_reuse	#"The man was not dead, as she claims, when she arrived at the scene." (bluff)
				—"The man was not dead, as she claims, when she arrived at the scene," you bluff.

				You have no proof, it's a hunch, a probability. A likely theory, but a theory nonetheless. 

				—"He wasn't, no—and how would you know? I was there. He looked dead, being wrong is no crime, and I am no doctor. It's not like I could have helped him if he wasn't dead... I couldn't save him... I couldn't..." 

				She appears mournful at your accusation, but it appears to have not worked, she is still cautious and defensive.


				*goto CrimesceneConclude4c

			*hide_reuse	#"The lady told me she did not have an umbrella, but according to the barman, she did."
				"The lady told me she did not have an umbrella, but according to the barman, she did," you accuse the witness.

				Lestrade's eyebrows unfurrow, rising a little. "There has to have been some misunderstanding, I am sure there is a perfectly good explanation for all that. Tell ${mc_xim}, Miss Cotter," ${l_he} says.

				She looks at ${l_him} and nods fervently. "Y—Yes, I had an umbrella, I misspoke. I did have one, only I dropped it after I tripped, and I think someone stole it, or it blew away with the wind... I—I don't know where it went. That is the truth."

				"It was stolen? Well, if you could describe it, we might be able to find it for you, Miss," Lestrade says.

				"Yes, Yes, of course. It was blue fabric on the canopy and light wood for a handle. But, you'll never find something stolen in this neighbourhood. It was very cheap, you don't need to look for it."

				"Your friend, the owner of that pub, said it was grey," you reply.

				*page_break

				The witness's face turns yet another shade of pale. "He is wrong, he must've been confused. There were so many people, he must've been confused..."

				Time to finish this.

				You turn in the direction of the dead man and the murder weapon. "In-fact, your friend, the barman, what he described sounded exactly like the murder weapon." You point towards the umbrella and stare back at her. "—I think you left the bar with that weapon, intending on killing that man, lying there. You tracked him down, tricked him into turning his back, and stabbed him with your weapon."

				"No! No, I couldn't have done something so horrid, I didn't!" Her voice is loud now, frantic. Her whole body moves as she denies the accusations.

				"I think you stabbed him in the back—but then he wouldn't die. He laid there, crying, gasping, pleading for help. Asking for your help, asking for god or his mother, and you pushed the weapon deeper. That is why you keep hiding your hands that are still red with his blood, and your shoes so dirtied by mud. You had to sit by his side, or even on him, by the road's muddy edge, and press the handle with all your might. Leaning into him as he screamed. His lungs would be filling with blood and fluid, drowning slowly from the inside. Did you have to push the handle down and inwards to puncture his heart, was it then you finally managed to kill him, after all that pain? Was it because you hated him you tortured him so?!"

				"I DIDN'T KNOW HIM!" she screamed. Her tears fall fast, faster than the rain. 
				
				"I didn't know him... when I..." She closes her eyes hard and shakes her head. "No one deserves... to die... like that." Like a heavy burden had lifted, her shoulders sag, and the words depart from her lips, "I killed him."

				*goto confession_a

	# I really have no time for such ill-considered schemes. She will break in time.
		*set friendshipL - 3
		*set bickeredL + 1
		*set timesMadL + 1
		*set mainActor "You2"
		*set actedWithLestrade false
		"Lestrade, I have never, in my life, met a man with that name. Cease this stupidity and listen," you say.

		The corners of Lestrade's mouth sink, not enough to notice for most, but having known ${l_him} long enough, it's a clear sign of displeasure. 

		"Miss Cotter is no innocent. And I can prove it," you explain.

		*label CrimesceneConclude4d

		*fake_choice
			*hide_reuse	#"She is short."

				"She is short," you say.

				Lestrade furrows ${l_hi} brow.

				"—I mean, the killer had to have been short. It's only a theory... But she is short... it is the most probable event," you try and explain.
				
				"That's—that is circumstantial evidence at best, it won't hold up in court." $!{l_he} says... and ${l_he} is right.

				*goto CrimesceneConclude4d

			*hide_reuse	#"The man was not dead, as she claims, when she arrived at the scene." (bluff)
				—"The man was not dead, as she claims, when she arrived at the scene," you bluff.

				You have no proof, it's a hunch, a probability. A likely theory, but a theory nonetheless. 

				—"He wasn't, no—and how would you know? I was there. He looked dead, being wrong is no crime, and I am no doctor. It's not like I could have helped him if he wasn't dead... I couldn't save him... I couldn't..." 

				She appears mournful at your accusation, but remains cautious and defensive.


				*goto CrimesceneConclude4d

			*hide_reuse	#"The lady told me she did not have an umbrella, but according to the barman, she did."
				"The lady told me she did not have an umbrella, but according to the barman, she did," you accuse the witness.

				Lestrade's eyebrows unfurrow, rising a little. "Is that true, Miss Cotter?" ${l_he} asks.

				She looks at ${l_him} and shakes her head fervently, "N—No, I had an umbrella, I must've misspoken. I did have one, only I dropped it after I tripped, and I think someone stole it, or it blew away with the wind... I—I don't know where it went. That is the truth."

				"It was stolen? Well, if you could describe it, we might be able to find it for you, Miss," Lestrade says.

				"Yes, Yes, of course. It was blue fabric on the canopy and light wood for a handle. But, you'll never find something stolen in this neighbourhood. It was very cheap, you don't need to look for it."

				"Your friend, the owner of that pub, said it was grey," you reply.

				*page_break

				The witness's face turns yet another shade of pale. "He is wrong, he must have been confused. There were so many people, he must have been confused..."

				Time to finish this.

				You turn in the direction of the dead man and the murder weapon. "In-fact, your friend, the barman, what he described sounded exactly like the murder weapon." You point towards the umbrella and stare back at her. "—I think you left the bar with that weapon, intending on killing that man, lying there. You tracked him down, tricked him into turning his back, and stabbed him with your weapon."

				"No! No, I couldn't have done something so horrid, I didn't!" Her voice is loud now, frantic. Her whole body moves as she denies the accusations.

				"I think you stabbed him in the back—but then he wouldn't die. He laid there, crying, gasping, pleading for help. Asking for your help, asking for god or his mother, and you pushed the weapon deeper. That is why you keep hiding your hands that are still red with his blood, and your shoes so dirtied by mud. You had to sit by his side, or even on him, by the road's muddy edge, and press the handle with all your might. Leaning into him as he screamed. His lungs would be filling with blood and fluid, drowning slowly from the inside. Did you have to push the handle down and inwards to puncture his heart, was it then you finally managed to kill him, after all that pain? Was it because you hated him you tortured him so?!"

				"I DIDN'T KNOW HIM!" she screamed. Her tears fall fast, faster than the rain. 
				
				"I didn't know him... when I..." She closes her eyes hard and shakes her head. "No one deserves... to die... like that." Like a heavy burden had lifted, her shoulders sag, and the words depart from her lips, "I killed him."

				*goto confession_a

*label CrimesceneConclude5
*set reputation + 10
It seems the investigation is nearly done.

How time flies…
*page_break

"What happens now?" Miss Cotter asks.

You should probably let Lestrade handle this part. $!{l_he} is better at that sort of thing. Telling people their lives are over, preparing them for the worst. Things like that. 

Of course, ${l_he} would find better words, some delicate white lies of comfort. [i]It will be alright. The worst is over. You'll see your son again.[/i]

But her state of mind is not the thing on [i]your[/i] mind.

All you can think about is the case's unanswered questions. This strange incident and its residual mystery. Is the criminal really suggesting a conspiracy? Wouldn't that be something...

You see the two of them talking, mouths moving. The witness holding back tears, Lestrade gently nodding.

What she said can't be true. It's too absurd.

But that would mean... 

It's over. 

But it can't be over so soon. It can't be so simple as an elaborate lie—or an unconventional hit job. That's too boring! There has to be more. If not, then...

Your serenity is over.

*fake_choice
	#[i]Let's say[/i] that there really is a secret society, a covert cabal, sending letters of assassination?

What a case.

And in Miss Cotter's favour, her mannerism had all the signs of truth in the end. 

Still, a crafty liar can fool even you. 

[i]If[/i] we presume she is telling the truth, did the guilty really communicate with this mythical group? Or do the layers of imitation go further than copycat murder? Moreover, what power does this letter crafter have? Who can convince people to kill with only a letter? It would be one hell of a riddle.
 
[i]But—[/i]

It's all too wonderful. Too good. Too much.

Think rational.

The simplest explanation is usually the right one.

But, maybe—

[i]—"${mc_name}.."[/i]
*page_break
—"${mc_name}." A voice penetrates your thoughts.
		
You look up at the one calling your name. But it's not Lestrade.

"Watson? What are you doing here?" you ask the familiar figure smiling above you.

*finish

*page_break

[b]END OF DEMO[/b]

[b]The next update will [i]probably[/i] include:[/b]
*line_break
Quality time with Watson
*line_break
Decorate your apartment
*line_break
Gain an unusual pet
*line_break
Meet a new RO!
*line_break
A new case?!

[i]If you liked the demo or have any thoughts you would like to share, I would love to hear from you in the thread :)[/i]



