Lockwood & Co 5th book fanfic.

Lucy: Chapter One

Lucy| Chapter 1

"George, I'm telling you. There's no such thing as barbecue flavored donuts!"

"Well, there should be. In fact, I'll invent them, and when I make a fortune I won't give you any of it,"

"George, I already have a fortune,"

"Oh, that stuff you pay us? Bollocks. You'd think someone with a fortune could be more generous regarding their employee's salaries. Right, Lucy?"

I looked up from my book and shrugged indifferently. We were sitting in the library, trying to do a bit of research before our next gig. A shining boy, most probably. The ghost, I mean. George and Lockwood didn't seem like they could care less.

"George, Lockwood," I put down my book and smiled sweetly. "I have but one thing to say... Can. We. Please. Get. To. Work?"

Lockwood nodded in agreement and walked back upstairs to get the file he was supposed to be working on. George grumbled and rolled over on the floor like a mentally ill platypus so he could inspect the array of photos laid out on a corner of the rug. We were quiet except the occasional rustle of a page.

I've always liked the library. It was dim, and most everything was covered in dust, but it was quiet and comfortable. We used it mostly to relax after difficult cases, and hardly ever used it for research, but this was a big case, and I didn't mind. It wasn't particularly big, and even less so since Lockwood had rearranged it to accommodate our ever growing piles of salt, swords, silver glass, iron, and other useful tools. We had about twenty or so bookshelves, all stuffed with books and folders in the orderly-yet-not-at-all rule that everything in 35 Portland Row seemed to follow. There were several cushiony armchairs in the center of it all, parked next to the rest of our case files, neatly arranged by George, who showed a special kind of reverence for anything he could read. Alas, this tidiness did not stretch across all fields of his personality. I'll explain later.

"UGGGG!" George groaned and rolled over on the carpet. "I love researching stuff, but only when it's on the proper subject. For some reason, there's an article on the growing popularity of Octopus Shoes. Yes, you heard that correctly folks, oc.to.pus. Shoes," I snorted and shook my head.

"This was so much easier when Holly was around,"

George nodded in agreement. Holly Munroe was the fourth member of Lockwood and co., but seven months ago she turned 19 and lost her psychic talent. Although she was a valued member of the team she politely resigned because of our rule: No Supervisors.

"I don't really miss her much, to tell you the truth," I shrugged. George looked at me suspiciously.

"Lucy, I know you weren't too fond of her, but that's no excuse to-"

"Yeah, I know. But weren't you a little uncomfortable around her too? She was just such a... Control freak,"

"I guess," He smiled up at me. A rare occurrence from George. "You know, it really is good to have you back,"

I returned his grin and we read in silence.

Lockwood charged in red-faced, looking like he had seen a ghost. (If you'll pardon the obvious irony) and said as calmly as he could his Lockwood Voice™ "Someone broke into Jessica's room,"

George went into the main room and set the teapot on a boil.

"What‽" I sat up straight, suddenly alert. "WHAT‽"

Lockwood flinched and discreetly wiped his eyes, trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

"They broke in last night when we were working on the Kalbach case," He sat down in shock on the couch, his head in his hands.

"Oh, Lockwood...I-" I unwound my legs and set the book gently on the floor so I could sit next to him.

"I can't believe it. How? I have four locks on that door!" He wiped his eyes again, still refusing to show me his face.

"Lockwood, I'm sorry. I never thought that anyone would do that. Was anything taken from the house?"

"No, but her room was unlocked. I didn't look in. It was probably dangerous, and I thought I heard something,"

I was glad he hadn't gone up. Lockwood's sister Jessica had died in her room ten years ago, and he still blamed himself for her death. I knew he wasn't scared, necessarily, but I was touched that he would rather have us by his side.

George stepped into the room with three cups of tea. I accepted mine gratefully, and he set Lockwood's on the floor.

"George-" I started to explain.

"It's okay, I heard from the kitchen," He shook his head in disbelief. "We were just up there yesterday!"

There were a few moments of awkward silence, where we sipped our tea. We were all aching to go up there, but George and I knew we should wait. Lockwood sat up and steadied himself with a trembling hand.

"So, shall we go up?" His voice cracked, but he marched out into the hall nonetheless.

After grabbing our belts, we slowly creep up the stairs.

George accidentally steps on the creaky stair,( the seventh one up. Funny he didn't know, as he's the one sneaking down them most of every night for snacks), but it's fine since we don't think they'll be up there. Doesn't hurt to check, though.

I speak up "Lockwood...if you would rather us go up instead of you..."

"No,"

We climbed the stairs, and a little color returned to Lockwood's face. I was filled with a mix of relief and nervousness. Halfway through our trek, we heard a clamor. It sounded like metal as if someone upstairs had dropped something. We froze and backed around a bend in the staircase, so we were out of view of the landing.

"So, does anybody here have friends they invited over?" George hissed. We didn't reply. "Sometimes it's good to be antisocial. You always know when someone's breaking in,"

We inched up the stairs in formation, tiptoeing, Lockwood, me, George. Like a well-oiled machine, we crept to the door of Jessica's room. The noises were clearer and more disturbing.

The sound of scratching and almost screaming whispered in my ears. We crept over to the door and peered through. Lockwood backed up so George could look through. I was impatient but held on until George backed away. He shook his head, but he had a wild look in his eyes. George hardly ever showed emotion, and it was worrying that he chose now to be scared. He tried to communicate the problem to us without using his voice but failed. Most cases went smoothly, and we had hand signals for nearly any situation. With George in a state of panic, and Lockwood unwilling to step foot in the place at all it was my turn. Lockwood and George flanked me, Lockwood on my left, George on my right. Lockwood gave me a nod and I returned a nervous smile. On the count of five, I kicked down the door.