the bones of our past - Lockwood x Lucy

The Letter

A/N: Alright so this is set post TV show, and I will do my best not to spoil the entire book series, however, there will be spoilers for at least book three, so if you haven't read that yet, you might want to stop here.

Also, Lucy having a little sister is obviously canon-divergent.

This is being written entirely so I can escape the dread of studying for my college exams. Have fun!

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It was a sunny morning in 35 Portland Row, and Lucy bit off a piece of her toast whilst laughing. Not for the first time she thought to herself that she really did belong here, as she looked around the table at her colleagues.

There was George Karim, annoyance turned friend. He was the best researcher anyone could ever ask for and an even better pal. Ever since the whole incident with the bone mirror, they had grown closer, and Lucy couldn't be happier about it.

And, of course, on the other side of the table, there was Anthony Lockwood. Her employer also turned friend. Right now he was laughing, just like Lucy, about the joke George had made, and like always when he was laughing, Lucy's eyes seemed to not be able to wander away from him. He was simply luminous, made of light. Laughing made him seem younger than he was, younger than he acted, and Lucy was thankful every time she got to see it.

She still remembered moments when she had feared she might never get to see it again, after all. When she had feared that Lockwood or herself might die too young.

But for the past few months now, there had been nothing but peace. No dangerous artefacts to chase after, no criminals hunting them down, and no debts to pay off. For the first time since she had accidentally burned down Mrs Hope's house, everything was okay. They could all breathe and just do their jobs.

Of course, she knew that it wouldn't stay like this. There were simply too many unanswered questions and too many unknown motives. George was still looking into who the man from the Black Library might have been, and Lucy still had nightmares about the mirror.

But if the most dangerous things to happen in the last few months had been the one or two cases gone awry and Lockwood lengthening his healing process about three times by picking up his rapier too early, she would gladly take it.

"Do we have anything going on tonight?" Lockwood was asking George just then, who shuffled to get out his list, written as messy as ever.

"Yeah, two cases actually. A shade appearing in a shop window at night and that one family who thinks there might be a 'ghost cat' running around their house..." He raised his eyebrows in accordance. "Probably just the pipes going off. Or actual mice."

Lucy could feel her sweet dreams of a free evening slipping away. That was another thing that had changed: Their workload. She still remembered the old days when their reputation had been in such tatters they hadn't gotten any jobs at all. Now, with all the publicity around Winkman and the share their company had had in putting him away, they did get jobs, but not really the most exciting ones.

No, those good, tricky ones, who were mostly administered by wealthier clients, still went to Rotwell or Fittes. But for the less wealthy population in London, the worried overworked parents or the old folks with only little retirement money, Lockwood & Co. seemed to be the best option.

And since Lockwood hated turning clients away, they accepted every single one of them.

However, that didn't mean that the agency was suddenly rich. Quite the opposite, actually: They barely made enough to cover their costs. Because Lockwood, against the wishes of his two associates, often let himself be talked into a discount. He believed strongly that everyone deserved to feel safe at night, no matter how much money they made, and try as she might, Lucy couldn't seriously fault him for that.

Still, George and she slowly began to feel the consequences. Lucy couldn't even remember the last time she had actually gotten paid, even though the three of them were up all night every night.

"Great!" Lockwood called out and clapped his hands together, but his tired undertone didn't escape her notice. "So we'll deal with the shade first, should be easy enough, and then take care of the supposed cat."

That sounded like another night without much sleep. When had she last slept the full eight hours?

"Do we have anything scheduled for tomorrow night?" she asked tentatively, and George shot her a look.

"We're booked out for the rest of the month. And tomorrow we've got three cases, so we'll need to split up again."

"Well, actually, we have four," Lockwood admitted sheepishly. "A woman called just before breakfast. She thinks her grandfather might be haunting the attic."

"Seriously?" George asked, not joking anymore. "You've taken on another case? We're overworked as it is! And do you remember the last time a woman claimed something was haunting her attic, and we drove all the way out to Whitechapel?"

"It was rats," Lucy supplied and George nodded.

"It was just rats! And you didn't even charge her because you felt bad."

Lockwood raised his hands in a calming motion. "She did still need to pay for an exterminator, after all. Those rats really didn't like it when I tried to catch them with a silver net."

"That's not the point!" George called out. "The point is that we need to take fewer cases. I understand that Lucy here feels sympathetic to your mission of saving the poor folks, but can we please just be a little more egoistic? We're barely covering our expenses, despite our caseload. Not long, and then we'll be the poor folks!" He stood up, took his glasses off, and rubbed them aggravatedly. "I'll go now and do some research for our cases tonight. But please. Take. Less. Cases."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Lockwood and Lucy alone.

Lockwood still seemed kind of stunted after George's outbreak, and Lucy couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him.

"I really have overworked both of you a bit, haven't I?"

"Well, kind of. It's been a lot, especially these last two weeks."

He nodded, a sad smile slipping his way onto his lips. "I'm sorry, Luce. I didn't mean to. Sometimes I just get so caught up in what we can do and how we're able to help people. Maybe we should take it slower."

Like always when they were alone, Lucy felt this sudden urge to reach out and touch him. There was this tension drumming in her fingers, just under the border of her skin, tugging her closer to him. Not that she could listen to it, of course. Lockwood was her employer, her friend, no matter what her skin might be singing in her ear.

So instead, she gave him her best grin and opened her mouth to gift him calming words. They never had a chance to break loose from her tongue, however: Right at this moment, George came back into the kitchen with a letter.

"It's addressed to the whole company," he stated before ripping it open. "If it's another case with a ghost cat though, I am going to scream."

Lucy couldn't help but laugh a little, but Lockwood's face turned sour. "I do think we should talk about this questionable attitude of yours," he said.

"Alright, underneath the envelope it's addressed to Lucy," George said and gave it to her. "Concerning you, Lockwood, I just have to say that-"

Lucy didn't hear the rest of their bickering. In fact, as soon as she started reading the letter, she became numb for every other sensation.

Because as soon as she understood the content, she felt as if the world came crashing down around her.

"Dear Lucy," the letter started. "I need your help, or I will die."

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A/N: we just got a letter, we just got a letter, we just got a letter, wonder who it's from