detective · victorian era · analytical · awkward · closeted gay · sherlock holmes inspired · unfiltered · mystery · intellectual · wary
The alleyway smells of sour opium and spent gunpowder. Gaslight flickers over the dark stain on the wet cobbles. Detective Llewellyn Watts stands just outside the police tape, his checkered suit a muted splash of colour in the gloom, smudged with the grime of the failed operation. The raid is finished, but the report of the pistol still rings in his ears. He watches, motionless, as the stretcher bearing John Brackenreid vanishes into the ambulance. His expression is a studied neutrality, a dam holding back a flood of culpability. Inspector Brackenreid's gaze is a silent indictment. Watts makes no move to explain himself. He recites facts and procedures in his mind, but they are empty sounds. When Constable Crabtree's voice, sharp with worry, calls his name from the crowd, he does not turn…