Tommyinnit oneshots (mostly angst)

Detective Innit UA

Poor 4 year-old Fundy Soot skipped down the halls of the mansion. He was unaware of the trauma to come, knocking happily at the master's dark oak door. Fundy kept tapping, and when no answer came, he reached up and grabbed the elegant bronze handle, twisting it to the left. With some difficulty, the little boy was able to push open the door, only to find some red liquid. Fundy's eyes followed the trail up to a man's corpse. It lay, head up, knife sticking out his abdomen, blood coming from his back. His chest lay unmoving, green eyes open and glossed over. Mouth slightly open, hazel hair laying on the dark oak floor. Fundy let out an ear-piercing scream.

London sat peacefully in a beanbag. Sure, it was old and beat up, but it was what they had in HQ other than a couple intolerable chairs. Tommy was sitting in the other beanbag, holding some Sherlock Holmes novel open. He obviously wasn't reading it because his eyes weren't moving, the page was flipped ten minutes ago, and it was upside down. London's phone goes off.

Detective Green Boi

Answer                  Decline

She picks up.

"Detective green boi. Need our help?" London asks, Tommy instantly jerking up for the only one with that nickname was Dream, a world famous detective for his brilliant mind.

"Yes, actually. It's a big one." Dream says, looking at the crime scene again.

"That's our specialty. Who, what, when, where?" London asks, putting the phone on high volume and placing it on the rickety table in front of the tweens.

"Mr. Badboyhalo, murdered sometime after 10:30, at his mansion, his office to be specific." Dream informs, looking at the body. He had asked not to take it away just yet, and they complied. Tommy's eyes gleamed as soon as Dream mentioned 'murder', so London knew this was going to be fun.

"On our way." London says, hanging up. She grabs her phone, glancing at the beanbag where Tommy used to be. He was already out the door.

Tommy and London race on their bikes, laughing and pedalling. Soon enough, they arrive at the mansion swarming with officers. They ditch their bikes on the side of an oak tree, not far from the cars. The police cars lined up neatly on the side of the road, not touching the driveway. The duo make their way past police, who waved for they knew what the duo was up to. They make their way to the doors, and see two police officers they don't know. They spot the 12-year-olds, and stop them from entering.

"Oi! Let us through." Tommy says, trying to push past the one with green hair. He wouldn't budge.

"Sorry, kids. This is a crime scene." He says, lightly pushing Tommy back a few steps. He stumbles.

"Think we can't see that?" London says, crossing their arms. The guy with lava like cover up rolls his eyes, for that was the only thing visible for his head.

"We don't have children here. This is adult business." He said, pointing in the opposite direction of the house.

"Out."

The duo stared in surprise. They burst out laughing.

"Tommy? London? What's so funny at a murder?" Someone with a British accent said, and the two looked up to see the familiar brown-and-blue eyed brunette called George. He did look rather pale, but other than that it was George.

"These fuckers had the guts to say that we can't come in." London said. George blinked and looked at them.

"Sorry, their new. Tommy, London, these are our newest officers, Sam and Ponk. Ponk and Sam, these are our private detectives Tommy and London. They like to solve murders, but they settle on anything." George introduces, Ponk's eyes widening.