One Of Our Own

Some days later after much bed rest, I awoke to the brightness of the middle of the day in a cold sweat. I had had nightmares of been beaten up by Stefan who suddenly turned to stone and was wiping the floor with me. Still wearing my bandages around my ribcage, the statue had broken two or three of my ribs, it seemed. I rolled out of bed because I was too weak to get up and would probably cause stitching or bandages to come apart. It was 3pm when I visited the meeting room. Nobody but the barman was there, I asked for my usual, a nice cool Guinness with a full fry up breakfast. Nothing heals wounds better. Anyway the details were hazy but apparently Doc's uncle knows M. Holmes, a great detective that I read about in the Times. He's suffering with some drug addiction and were are to go and help them, not sure this is my area of experience but I do as the Doc asks because she's got me out of a few scrapes in the past, and generally is a good woman. After my meal, I grab a paper off one of the boys on the streets, headline on front page is “Four brutal murders in Whitechapal”, the paper was suggesting Jack had returned and was picking up from where he had left off
I was sure the rest of the guys would have already seen the papers this morning. So I headed off for the nearest place I thought they might have been, which was Miss House residence.
Walking through the museum where Carsteirs worked, all the lovely things that shone from such exotic places that the likes of Garvin have been to. So many shiny things, which would fetch a few bob at the market, but I my thief fingers with there black stitches itched, but that was all they did. I had several people watching my also, but Garv could see my smirk at the financial gain there was to be had in this here spot. However, because I had nightmares of statues chasing me in the dark of night, I thought best to leave things alone because the room was filled with some similar ones. I moved close to Miss House and offered my arm for escort while Crispy filled in Dr. Watson on his findings, Morag adding her findings too the discussion that didn't interest me.
My attention was diverted when we passed through large, heavy double doors, guarded by to two jackal like brutes. Both looked like they'd both seen some enough trouble in there time. I gave a nod to not frighten them.
We were now in a large room with smaller double doors and a large window. I could see a man in what looked like a cover over him sitting in a chair. The man was middle aged, tall but thin, with black cropped hair. His face looked very alive but strained to be so. While Doc and the others fussed about the man, whom I felt out of place with, whats a boxer to do in a museum talking to a great intellectual anyway? So I went and had a chat with the muscle.
After saying good evening they introduced themselves as Bond and . They weer nice enough lads, both in the same business as me, clearly not as well off as me though, they had some ripper tech, but they clearly hadn't a clue about what they got. The one called Bond said “Oh you put it in you?” which just puzzled me. After much talking a ghost appeared of some feller called Morey something and gave Mr. Holmes( as I had learned his name was later) an injection of cocaine, this was really baffling because he was solid enough to hit or pull away from Mr. Holmes. Ms. Holmes thought this was “of a degrading nature for such a man of Holmes's intelligence!” insisting we should move him to her house which would be much more comfortable. Seeing there was nothing more for us to do that night we headed off home.
Next morning we visited the recent attack of the “new Jack” killings, which had occurred that night at Whitechapel. Garv had gone ahead and Crispy was going to meet him there. When we were nearing the location we heard a woman screaming “The ripper is here, the Ripper is here!” picking up the pace we see before us a woman with her hands to her mouth, which I presume is the one screaming, now attracting the attention of the police and Garvin trying to calm her down with blood on his coat.
Before we could get to Garv, the police already have him clapped in irons. I put my hands into my pockets to slip my brass buddies on, when Carsteirs shouted to my disbelief “Stop that man!” Carsteirs, quick wittingly, had assumed the persona of a Doctor, who was treating Garvin for Egyptian flu, which was very contagious without the vaccine. Relaying to the policeman with the aid of my little performance as the orderly. The copper bought it and we were able to remove Garv with strange object he had under his coat, but hey I didn't ask what it was. It quite funny forcing Garv (who acted quite easily as a ill man), into a carriage.
As our cabby drove up to Miss House's place, Garv was telling us that he had found this saw at the latest murder.
I shouted out “Watson is in danger!” through the door. Hearing this the honorable man breaks out of his habit fearing his friend to be framed. Turns out, it was Bond, one of the Rippers at the museum who had soiled shoes, like the dark alley way and he was left handed? I'm confused but Mr Holmes thinks he has it sorted, so thats good enough for me.
With clever thinking from the others, they had figured out where the next murder roughly would be. So we set about setting up a place in the nearest whore house, I was not complaining. While I was looking at all the alluring ladies moving around the smokey house, I could hear the others thinking of a plan to get the killer to come to us, but the problem was, the prostitutes were all against going out in fear of their lives. I chimed in “just send Saint Morag out, she's tough enough to take her out and all”, then Garv, the bastard, added, “Maybe not Morag, Rigg.” 
So yes, yours truly, went upstairs and was kitted out to look like a whore, with Doc and Morag adding there, little, touches of makeup. When I stumbled downstairs (cursed heels!) Garv and Bobby were already getting their things together for an ambush. Bobby and Garv both said “ Good evening lady” to which I replied “It bloody isn't in this dress” fooling both of them, obviously I was deceptive, hopefully it was going to fool our killer too, men that kill whores have no honour.
Patrolling the streets in this uncomfortable, ridicules awkward dress (no wonder these girls can not wait to get out of them) three men come up to me wanting favors, two were put off that I was a man, the other one needed some further persuading of the violent kind, cuckold. I can see Garvin chuckling to himself about the punters who mistaken me for a bit of nice. He's pretending to be a bum, to block one of his escape routes, Bobby is on the rooftops, to get an overall view, guns cocked and ready; the Doc and Morag are safe in the house.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Garv pulling some contorted frown, like something he would wince about; like a rat was moving on him, except I can't see a rat. He picks up some dirt from the street and throws it behind him whilst lurching forward. His neck gets nicked as he moves into a defensive stance. It all becomes clear to me when a broad man steps out of the shadows and engages him. I signal to the others that a fight is on and I rush in to support. Upon getting closer, I recognize Bond from the museum. I taunt him with “Come and fight a real man” a bit hypocritical the way I am dressed I know but it does the trick and the guy focuses on me. I give him a hook and an uppercut on that handsome jaw of his, putting him on his ass. He glares up at me and says “So that's how you wana play,” reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a ripe, big, red heart and takes a bite from it. This disgusting man clearly has lost his mind I was thinking, his ripper tech must have sent him off the edge, its a great shame, reminds me greatly of Stefan. I go for a hook to the face, he grabs my arm and wrenches it behind my back, then head butts me in the back of the head. Stumbling to my knees I feel the throb of my right arm, hes sprained several of the muscles and I can not move it. Garv has fully recovered now and does a bit of dodging his blade to try and get at the heart. Ms Morag joins us, and Bond stares in wonder at her, “Kill the woman” he shouts out and makes a dash for Morag, slapping her across the face. In my attempt to save her I muscle my way in. Recovering my breath I go for a left elbow to the guts, which has no effect, he returns the favor and does a fist whip across the side of my head and it sent my lights out.
Later I learn that after I was out, Doc and the whores were taunting our one that went amok which gave Bobby enough time to aim for both his kneecaps, crippling him.
Some police came running at the commotion but Mr. Holmes was on hand to wipe any idea of wrong doings and credit us for capturing the killer. I had another 2 weeks in the infirmary healing my wounds, while I was operated on, I had recurring nightmares of how Stefan and this Bond had reverted to a savages.
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