The Glass Scientists micro-fanfictions

Questions remain unanswered

While the gentleman was not rightly sure of quite what it was that he was hoping to achieve through his snooping, however out of all the thing he was expecting – some deep dark secret perhaps, or an explanation to what dark hold the mysterious Edward Hyde had over his dear friend – but what he held now was certain not one of them. Papers detailing the renting of a house in Soho. Was Henry Jekyll paying for the lodgings for his mysterious 'assistant?' The mere thought of it made his skin crawl unpleasantly, who on earth was this Hyde to him and what kind of hold does he have over poor Jekyll?

Of course, there was only one way to sufficiently put an end to this mystery, even if fate was so determined to make it that their paths seemed destined never to cross, and this was to track the enigmatic fellow to the source. He had the source now, written as clear as day upon the page – or at least it was an address, and that was still something as it would logically suggest where he may while away the few hours that didn't consist of him climbing in through his friend's window at all hours, the thought of this making poor Lanyon huff – and with little effort, was copied across to a spare scrap of paper that had been littering the table amongst the organised chaos of other pages with varying degrees of adornments.

There was no time like the present, even if the venture was largely undesirable. A quick fixing of his clothes – a rich purple of the bourgeoise – and he was off, striding purposefully from the room before his nerve failed him, as he was sure that it would if he allowed himself even a moment to dwell upon the matter of his excursion.

Robert had never once set foot anywhere even remotely close to the proximity of Soho – of course not, a man of his status should never dream of being found in such a horribly disreputable hive of villainy and sin – and so his nerves were unashamedly higher than usual.

How, in the name of whatsoever god was out there, was it worse there than he had expected?

The man felt very much like he was wearing a massive target around his neck and a sign reading 'Rob me! It'll be easy!' and he hated it. Even keeping his head low, doing all that was humanly possible to draw as little attention to the fact that he did not belong there, he could still see enough to boost his pace. All sorts of folk emerging from grimy alleyways and talking in all sorts of voices to others in the grimy streets. Grimy people in grimier streets, and then there was he, trying very hard not to meet the eye of a scantly clad young lady on the street – in the middle of the day! Could you imagine?! – as he passed by, a pointed look at the address he had written out before he left on his far too hasty expedition.

Thankfully it did not take the man long to reach his mysterious destination, a journey that certainly felt longer than it had been, and Robert found himself largely underwhelmed by it all. He wasn't completely sure of what he was expecting, but the slightly rundown apartment block was not it.

"Wot d' yew want?"

He had barely moved his hand away from knocking before a voice from the opening door made him jump back in alarm.

"Is this the residence of a Mr. Edward Hyde?" Lanyon asked, recovering with a swiftness that impressed himself somewhat.

The older woman narrowed her eyes at the man, an impertinence he didn't quite enjoy, letting a silence fill the air for so long that he couldn't help but wonder if she was perhaps hard of hearing, though he had barely opened his mouth to repeat the question before she cut him off.

"Who are ye?" the landlady asked, sounding suspicious, and rightly so considering the circumstanced.

"I am a friend of his," said he, wanting very much to shudder at the thought, "Is he in?" His voice was perfectly pleasant despite everything.

"'e hasn't been 'ere for a' least a month." she stated simply, unsure if she should trust the man still.

"Oh, that is most unfortunate. You see, he has something of mine that I wish to recover." The lies were flowing smoothly, a touch of the necessity of an upper-class upbringing – charming lies to flatter – coming as great use now, "I was wondering, madam, if I could take a moment to retrieve it?"

Another agonisingly long silence followed this, the smile he held feeling more obviously false with every prolonged heartbeat that passed.

"I shan't be a moment, I assure you," he reiterated, "Edward informed me that I may collect my belongings when I have time that suits me."

"Ye got ten minutes. Don' take wot ain't yers."

With this said, she ushered him to where he knew Henry was paying for this excruciatingly unfamiliar to stay, which, if the landlady was telling the truth, was not a frequent occurrence.

He had not been expecting to be left alone there considering the woman's reluctance to even let him in, but after repeating the time limit and letting him in she promptly turned and returned to whatsoever menial task she was engaging before his arrival.

Left to his own devices, he hadn't the foggiest where to begin.

The room was a wee bit of a mess, the odd shirt left out, a pair of shoes scattered about the floor, the lacy garter of some unknown woman tossed carelessly by the poorly made bed. Despite the minor disarray the room was still lavishly decorated, even the odd piece of fine art adorning the walls that he could have only assumed was a gift from Jekyll, making it look rather lovely.

One of the shirts, he noticed with a degree of interest, was notably larger than the others, but nothing seemed suspicious until he caught sight of a poorly hidden cravat.

A poorly hidden red cravat.

The familiar red cravat of Henry Jekyll.

Poking around a little following this discovery led to his uncovering of an equally familiar waistcoat of the same colour and from the same owner, shoved into the dresser with little care, left behind after god knows what!

This was all that he needed to see. Thanking the woman for her time, he stormed off, barely sparing a moment of thought for those he passed on his way.

He was not jealous.

He was not jealous.

He was not jealous!

Oh god, he was jealous!

Jealous of someone he hadn't even bloody meant? How horribly unseemly, ungentlemanly, and so terribly human.

Practically slamming the door open, Lanyon had not even realised that he had reached his destination, spending the walk absolutely fuming. In fact, until he was Jekyll jump at his sudden appearance in the office, he wasn't even aware that he was going there at all.

"I know about you and Hyde!" Lanyon exclaimed loudly, his voice cracking with emotion.

"You know?" came Jekyll's reply, his voice oddly soft, a clear note of poorly hidden fear within his voice, his eyes slightly wider than they were.

"Yes, I bloody know!" he could hear that he was verging on hysterics and he hated it, "I know you two are sleeping together!"

Lanyon couldn't understand why Jekyll was laughing at this, but laugh he did, a relieved and almost tinny laugh that he felt was highly inappropriate considering the nature of their conversation.