Miss Detective: Where it Began.

Chapter 1: Ditective?

I had been travelling for nearly three hours and was exhausted, as the train came in for its final destination. I had arrived. Finally. At St. James's Park station. The carriage was overflowing with eager passengers waiting for the whole train to hult. All were pushing and shoving to get out of the hot carriage, forcing me and a few others to come off last.

It was sometime after 11:00 am and the sun was up high and shining brightly. The town was silent and calm. I walk around in a circle for at least half an hour and did not find where I was going. I asked, who I thought would be a friendly Police officer, for directions.

The man was tall and slim, and standing in the sun with his head turned away from me. His broud shoulders seemed to fill out most of the jacket he ware.

"Excuse me, Constable." I began slowly. The man turned and saw me standing there in the blazing sun. His eyes a dark hazel, dark and soft. He means well. His hair a large mop of soot and scruffy. His smile was welcoming almost too welcoming but as friendly as the rest of his face.

"Yes, Miss. Can I help you?" He replied, in a cheery voice.

"I hope you can." I returned in a respectful manner. "I am looking for Scotland Yard Police Station, where might I find it?" I asked, looking at his great white smile.

"It just happens I'm heading in that direction. Come with me and I'll take you." He replied. "So what brings a lovely woman like you, to dirty London?" He asked with a jerk.

"Work." I returned not wanting a long conversation.

"Not policing, I hope." He laughed at his own stupid remark. I gave him a look of descust and he saw I was serious about the matter. "Oh! Sorry! Constable Edward Hutchinson, head of the officers. Not the station. Some people get confused." He tried desptatley to change the subject. It was to no availe so he walked on, with me following close behind.

Down the road from where I met Constable Hutchinson, a lage building loomed in front of us. The doors black and sturdy. A large ingravement on the right side of the door said '1829' on the left side it read 'Scotland Yard Police Station. No. 8.' The eighth constabulary in London. Above the door there was a plaque which read; 'Thank you to John Smith who saved lives for 29 years. 'This Station was built in your memory and shall stand for ever.' 1829.'

"Who was John Smith?" I asked after inquiring all the detail on the outside of the building.

"John Smith had his reputations, a good reputation, mind. One day he was brutally murdered. All the detectives in London were on the case but no one could solve the murder." He said slowly but quickly changed the mood. "You coming in?" We entered, not moving from the stairs on the other side of the passageway from whence we came.

In the station there stood row after row of desks and each one had a man sitting on either side. No women in sight. In the two back corners there were two offices, again, one men in either room. None of the men in the room noticed that I was standing at the front of the station. I was standing at the top of the steps, still, trying to work out who to speak to one my arrival.

A man in a grey suite walked towards me. He walked and walked and walked and walked straight past me. Obviously a murder suspect. I didn't noticing the man that followed him. This man was wearing black trousers, waist coat and a red cravat. He did not walk past me but stopped at the bottom of the steps.

"Inspector Charles Linton. How can I help you, miss?" said the man in the cravat.

'You can start by saying 'Hello' to your new detective.' I thought, though it was rude to say out lowed.

"I think so..." I said. "I'm Doctor Luckett. I believe that this is the station I'm to become Detective at." I looked around hopefully, looking to find another woman in the office. Non. Still no woman in site.

"...Oh....Sorry, Miss, we have someone, he is meant to be arriving today." Replied the inspector.

"Bobby.... Or Roberta. Some people call me Bobby because I'm not the one for house chores like most women"

"...Oh.... Sorry. I was expecting a man. But I suppose that it is about the qualifications not the gender." The Inspector gave in, to the fact that there would be a slight change to the 'no women' rule.

"Yes. But it's sex not gender. But thank you for accepting me. I have gone from station to station and non have accepted a woman for the job."

"Really... I thought with all your qualifications you would have been accepted everywhere."

"No. Most don't accept me because of my sex. Any Way......" I never got to finish my sentence because there were screams that pierced the air. The station silenced. The Inspector, Constable and I ran outside to find the source of the noise.