Summary: Murder, mystery and the Quell brotherhood, take a leisurely trip across 19th century London in an adventure you will never forget. (The story may not be nearly as good as I make it out to be, so please be kind, I would really value any constructive criticism.)
A bizarre story of curious peculiarity
I question you to come forward with a more weird and wonderful tale than this.
It is the tale of a young flighty girl of nineteen years; she had auburn hair and bright emerald eyes. She used to tell me of her adventures with Mr Brown, they were incredible, absurd and sometimes grotesque. She was rather fond of Mr Stanley Brown and always spoke warmly of him.
Avery Coombes was an investigator of all things strange and out of the ordinary.
She had short cropped hair and never stayed in one place long enough to make any long term friends, apart from her older cousin Audrey. They used to meet at a restaurant called The Clubhouse on Oxford Street and discuss this and that.
Audrey was the only person that knew Avery’s birth name.
Avery rounded a corner, stopped and looked at her watch.
“I’m late,” she muttered.
She was supposed to meet Audrey at The Clubhouse half an hour ago.
Avery knew London well, so she disappeared into the maze of backstreets.
Someone grabbed her from behind and held a knife to her throat,
“All right sweetheart you can make this very easy for me and I won’t make this hard for you.”
Avery twisted out of his grip and knocked him down with a kick to the diaphragm and a punch to the face.
“Wasn’t expecting that were you?”
A man walked up to her,
“Are you alright, I saw you knock him down, are you hurt?”
“Perfectly fine thank you.”
At that moment a shrill police whistle assaulted their ears, three constables rushed past them.
“I wonder what that could be about.”
“I don’t know but I’m going to find out.”
She turned to go,
“Are you sure that’s wise, you have just been attacked.”
“Just go about your business good sir.”
She then proceeded to rip away her skirts to reveal male clothing underneath.
Mr Brown watched stunned, Avery ran after the police constables, keeping to the shadows. She dashed down the narrow passage, pulled on a cap and got lost in the crowd that had formed on the street at the end of the alley way. Stanley was concerned for this girl’s wellbeing so he ran after her but stopped at the entrance to the road. Avery had found a hiding place on a doorstep right behind the scene; she was completely invisible to anyone that wasn’t looking for her. Stanley chose that moment to walk up and address her
“Good evening again.”
“Be quiet please.”
She moved, found herself another nook and crouched down. Stanley just stared
What is that daft girl doing? he thought.
Avery edged around the corner; she was close enough to hear the detective inspector speaking to one of his sergeants.
This intrigued Avery
“Looks like he was shot at the top of those stairs, he tumbled down and broke his neck.”
She scanned the stairs and spotted small speckles of blood on the handrail and steps.
“The killer shot him with this gun then took to his heels.”
The gun was lying on the floor, it was like nothing she had ever seen, the inspector and his sergeant had turned away.
Avery picked up the gun and ran, Stanley followed her. He stuck out his arm in front of her,
“What are you doing with that, you could get arrested you know.”
“I’ll take that chance; now kindly remove yourself from my way.”
He stepped away, she strode purposely away.
“Where are you going?”
“You need not concern yourself with that.”
“But you were attacked then you stole police evidence, I’m witness to two crimes.”
“Forget me sir.”
Stanley was irritated by her polite dismissal.
“I can’t, you wear men’s clothes, you beat up a mugger, you just stole a gun from the police and you’re just expecting me to forget all this.”
“I’m taking this to my cousin Audrey, she’s somewhat of an expert on firearms, though I don’t know that that’s any of you business.”
A small smile crept onto Stanley’s face
“Then why did you tell me.”
“If you insist on following me then maybe you can be of some use.”
“Oh really, how so?”
“I need someone I can trust, someone to aid me in my investigations.”
“Well I’m not sure what I can do to help.”
“I need you to send a telegram, hold on.”
She reached into her bag that she had strung over her shoulder and pulled out a crumpled envelope.
“Send this to Miss Audrey Brett.”
“Alright, where should I meet you after?”
“At The Clubhouse on Oxford Street at four o’clock.”
With that she marched around the corner and Mr Brown was left wondering what on earth he was getting himself into.