Lord Day and Lady Night

13. Copper is thicker than Iron

"This is a really, really 'orrible idea!"

"Orrible? What a relief. I thought you were going to say horrible. But as long as it is only orrible, everything is fine."

"Ye arrogant son of a...! Ye can take yer Cambridge English and stuff it where da sun don't shine!"

"Oxford. Oxford English."

"Oxbridge, Cambford, why the 'ell would I care? It's a terrible idea, and ye're an arrogant arse'ole!"

"Miss Amy's right!" Flo popped up. "Better we'll do somethin' by ourselves dan...dan go to...to dat place!"

She glared at the building ahead as if it were full of people kicking cute puppies. Amy followed her gaze, her eyes sweeping over the cab station to the back of the building, which, a bit more than a decade ago, had been renovated and repurposed. Then, as if unable to resist staring at the gates of hell, her eyes were drawn to the big sign near the front of the building, proclaiming:

Great Scotland Yard

"This," Amy repeated once more, "is a 'orrible idea."

"If we investigate that matter by ourselves, we'd have no choice but to break into a house. We are respectable British citizens." Patrick's gaze swivelled to Amy. "Well...mostly."

"Is dere somethin' ye wanna say to me?" she asked sweetly.

"No. 'Wanna' is not an auxiliary verb I am in the habit of using." He started towards the police station, giving Amy the perfect opportunity to stab him in the back. Too bad she didn't have a pointy candleholder with her. "But what I want to say is that, as proud citizens of Great Britain, we should follow the laws of the country. My first encounter with them regarding the matter might not have yielded stellar results..."

"Dat's a nice way of puttin' it."

"...but I'm sure that this time, the officers of the law will not disappoint us. I even have something of a relationship with one of the police inspectors here."

"I knew there was a reason why I can't stand ye!" Amy grumbled.

"I assure you, the feeling is mutual."

He continued towards the door, and Amy realized he really meant to do this. Stupid idiot!

"Dis ain't gonna work!" She hissed, hurrying after him. "Dere's no way a mutton shunter is gonna help us!"

"No, but a policeman will."

"Dat's da same thing!"

"Really? How intriguing."

And he marched into the station. Cursing, Amy stomped after him. "Flo? Wait 'ere!"

"No problem!" The little girl surveyed the crowded street, eyes sparkling at the sight of the affluent passers-by. She reached into her pocket—

"And don't try to sell matches!"

"Oh. All right."

Leaving behind a rather grumpy-looking Flo, Amy hurried to catch up with Patrick. It turned out not to be hard, since he was standing in the middle of the entrance hall, hands on hips, looking around proudly as if he'd build the place itself.

"Isn't this wonderful? A monument to British law and public order."

"Yes," Amy said, glancing from left to right, just to make show no one would jump out to grab her and drag her into a cell for the night. "Wonderful."

"Now, come and let's meet my friend, shall we?

"I'm so looking forward to it."

Crossing the entrance hall, they came to a stop in front of a thick oak door. Patrick reached up and knocked on the thick wood.