Jared H Walter & Shelly Helms.
19th century London, dangerous, crime polluted; corrupted. The turn of the century is upon it and the Londoners see no end to their opportunities. London, the engineering capital of the world.
Down in the depths of Fleet Street, Shelly Helm’s sat at her writing desk, except, it was no longer just a writing desk. Experiments, chemicals, gadgets and gismos littered the surface of the table, papers fluttered around her feet and, often, around her head. Upon her face, there was an oddly shaped spy glass.
“Walter! Walter!” She cried, “God-damn it man, pry yourself from the realms of that book and get in here!”
A tall, thin man sauntered into to the room. He tossed his bowler hat to the window sill, tucked his shirt into his trousers and straightened his waistcoat.
“I don’t give a damn how you look, Walter, just come here and look at this.” Helms’ swung round and pointed to the piece of paper in front of her.
Jared H. Walter sighed.
“Helms’, you really should take a step outside.” He glanced upon the sheet, and seeing nothing important, nudged his female friend on the shoulder, “You cannot keep yourself locked in here, coming up with your strange ideas.”
“Look.” She shook the page in front of him, “Look at these findings! If - now just listen - if I mix these two individual chemicals, I may just be able to stop the onset of cancer. I can test it on Bruno or Melo. Whichever animal you favour less.”
“You are not touching my grey hound again. Or my cat!”
“How about that goose your aunt has running around her yard?”
“No, Helms!”
The man retreated from the room and went back to his studies on the anatomy of the human form. Sulking, Helms rose from her seat, threw the spyglass to the table and shuffled into the kitchen. She proceeded to make herself some well-deserved tea.
“I don’t know why you are insisting on reading that thing again, Walter. You could draw me a map of the human form from memory.”
“And why you continue to wear gentlemen’s trousers, when society continually tells you it isn’t right, is beyond me.”
“They are not gentlemen’s, they are tailored to fit my form. And, since when could society stop me from being who I am, Walter?”
The man laughed from the other room, “Never, Shelly.”
*
3 weeks later
“Get up. Come on now, up!”
Helms pulled a nearby sheet over her head as curtains were pulled.
“The light.” She screeched.
“It’s called the outside, Helm. Get up now. It’s been weeks since you’ve been out.” Walter pulled the sheet from her head, “Move!”
“There is no reasoning for me to move.”
“You have a case.”
“We have a case and you can handle it perfectly fine on your own.”
Walter pulled her up by her elbow, bringing her face close to hers, “Out.”
“I guess I need a brazier, then.”
*
Walking through the streets of London, Helms read through the file while Walter dictated to her. The passing of a finely dressed doctor and a slightly insane, cross-dressing woman was no strange sight to the people of London. Dr Jared H Walter was renowned paediatrician while Shelly Helms was a damned good investigator and always got her man; in the most unorthodox ways, of course.
“The Bean.”
Helms glanced up at her partner, “I beg your pardon.”
“The new coffee house just up ahead.”
“Ah yes I heard about it. They serve some new exotic sort of coffee. Somewhat stronger with a zest.”
“Exotic coffee?”
“Oh yes. I believe they have a selection. Expresso’s and Americanos.” Helms shock her head, “Strange business. So, are we stopping in?”
“Indeed, A strange coffee for an extraordinarily strange woman.”
“Funny, I was about to say the same to you.”
Taking the typical male role, Helms held the door for Walter and followed him into the café.
“Hmm, it’s dark.”
“They serve coffee; you don’t need to see what you are drinking.”
“No, but I would like to be able to read or, indeed, glance upon my male company.”
Walter cocked an eyebrow.
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. I mean my other admiring fans. You already had your chance.”
“And I’m glad that chance is behind me.”
Helms ordered the beverages and, typically, put the tab on Walter. She proceeded with a grin.
“If a woman can wear suits, she can pay for the bill.”
“True. But society says that you should pay and, according to you, I’m already a black dot on England’s book. Wouldn’t want to darken that now would I?”
She smiled, Walter growled.
“You are infuriating.”
“Pleasure. But stop beating around the bush and do tell me the news.”
“H-W – How do you know I have news?”
“Oh please. You have me a case. You have read it before I and have been dictating to me from home to this coffee house. You paid the tab without a big scene and you have been awfully silent lately. Not to mention your cat has been taken home to your own home and you have left the more beloved of my subjects behind, and , you have not complained when experimented on by my hand –“
“I simply believe that your experiments are – safe.”
“Bull. Shall I go one with my slight observations or are you really interested in your eating habits and bowel movements?”
“H-“
“And my record of your sexual experiences.”
“Now really, Helms. We are in a public area.” Walter pinched the bridge of his nose, “I had planned to tell you nearer to the time.”
“So you got promoted? It was about time.”
“Yes, but, that’s not it. The promotion, I had no problem telling you about.” The man ground his teeth, “It’s what comes with said promotion.”
“A big office and millions of children to cure.”
“Yes, that, and a one way ticket to the new world.”
Helms expression remained unchanged, as if she had not heard her friend’s words.
“One way ticket?” When she clearly, had.
“Indeed.”
There was silence for a moment; she pursed her lips together in concentration.
“Well, Walter, remember to pack your finest suits, if you are walking amongst the best you can’t go looking shabby.”
“T-that’s all?”
“Well yes. What do you want me to do? Lay in front of the boat so you cannot leave? No, wait, that wouldn’t quite work, one cannot lay across water. But you get my point, Walter.”
The man simply looking at his partner, his mouth open and hands idly fiddling with the sheets of their newest case.
“No questions?”
“Well, just one.”
Walter leant in closer.
“Can I keep your foul mutt?”
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