The Secrets of Whitechaple

Prologue

As I walk down the street I see men conversing, women chortling, and children crying and giggling. The day was cloudy and chilly; much like my mood. I walk past two old gentlemen speaking excitedly and smiling to one another, I frown. How can these men be so happy? They are old and aging, they do not have much time on this earth left and yet they smile and laugh. I turn left to enter a shop, Allen's Metal Work, and readjust my top hat.

The bell jingles as I enter, "Ah, Dr. Williams. 'Ow are ya, Sir?" The owner, Allen Werthington, greets me with his thick cockney voice. I look him over. He is a stocky man with short brown hair and a beard to match. He wears a thick leather apron over his plain brown trousers and dirty white shirt. He carried himself with a limp; an accident years ago when he was working for the Queen, not something he enjoys talking about much.

"Well, Allen. I trust you are also?"

"'Course I am, Sir? Can I 'elp you wif anyfing today, Sir?"

"Yes, in fact, you can. I'm here to pick up the six inch surgical knife I ordered last week."

"Yes, Sir. It's ready, jus' a moment." While Allen walked to the back room of the shop to get my instrument, I run my eyes across the room. It was grubby a little run down, not some where anyone would expect to find a man such as me in.

As I look at this room, think of this man, and think of my position in the monarchy as the Queen's personal physician, I cannot help but notice that I look quite out of place. I am wearing an expensive suit with a matching top hat and cloak, along with a gold pocket watch and a silver tipped cane. Not a place a man of my standing would be expected to be found in. However, he was once the Royal Army's blacksmith appointed by the Queen; there is no one better.

Allen comes out of the back room, "'Ere ya are, Sir." He hands me the box containing my new tool.

"Thank you, Allen." We both wave goodbye as I exit the shop and continue my journey down the street.

* * *

After a little bit of walking, I am standing in front of my initial destination, a medium sized, white house. I walk up to the black, wooden door and lift the knocker, I drop it with little force to create a loud sound. Not much time passes before the door is opened revealing my dear friend Frederick Abberline.

"Sir John Williams, my old friend." He greets me warmly with his deep voice, "I see you have finally made it. I thought maybe you were not coming." He teases.

"What? You mean miss the chance to have a drink with the Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard? I could not possibly dream of doing such a thing."

He laughs, "Ah, so I see you have learned of my promotion."

"Of course I have! It's big news everywhere." I inform him. "Everyone is expecting great things from you."

"And I shall deliver, I assure you. Please, do come in."

"Thank you." I enter his home. It's warm and welcoming, cozy with family pictures lining the walls and small decorations here and there.

Frederick is unlike his home; he is tall and tired with an average suit that he likes to pair with a bowler hat. Frederick picks up his glasses from a side table as he leads me into his study.

"Scotch?" He offers me.

"Yes, thank you." He pours the drink and hands it to me, then turns to pour himself one as well.

"So how have things been for you, John?" He asks.

"Quite well. The Queen's health is near perfection, her family's too." I answer proudly.

"Good, good."

"So how is the new job?"

Frederick goes on to tell me of the workings of this newest job. All the paper work and the officers under him. He was not too happy about either, but the one thing he did enjoy was taking down the criminals and that was where I agreed him. Criminals did need to be removed no matter the cost.

* * *

The sun had already set by the time I left Frederick's home, promising his wife, Emma, that I would come again and stay for dinner. As I walk down through the streets of London to my own home I ponder the difference between mine and Frederick's professions.

As i think about this I come to a realization, I am envious of Frederick. He leads a most exciting life, catching criminals and restoring peace. I truly wish I too could be a police officer, to be a hero and fight evil.

"Oi! Mister, ya lookin' for a good time?" A woman's voice calls me.

I look over and I see her, she's wearing a horridly revealing dress and a heavily made up face. A prostitute; by far the worst evil that plagues this great country, yet the police do not do a thing. Those women spread disease and and any area they decide to offer there services in immediately turns to hell.

It was only at that moment that I looked around and realized just where I was. The east end of London, the slums. An area that those things have turned to hell.

"Oi! Mister?" She calls again.

I ignore her and continue my way down the street to get out of this terrible place. Something must be done about them, something to finally end their destruction of my home. I thought to my self.

"Someone has to do something." I whispered to myself.