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brienneoftarth1989 · 7 months

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Undercover Part 2

Miranda Hilmarson x fem reader

Previous / Next / Series

Summary: After disposing the body you started looking for someone new to replace the person you just killed. That was when your path crossed Miranda’s

Warnings: body disposal, threatening, violence, gangs

Requests open

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Raphael made his way through the large building before heading out to find these people on your list. He saw the two lads you had left in charge of disposing of the body and he didn’t have much hope for them doing a good job. This was probably their second job and he really didn’t want to get in trouble for their screw up.

“Oi lads! I’m coming with you! Now hurry up and get the fucking body into the car!” He shouted at them. He looked over at them and then at the body that was just wrapped in a black plastic bag. “You idiots. Did you listen to a word I said? You will get us caught. One of you go and grab that large suitcase. The other go and mix up some quick drying cement” Raphael told the two lads.

Thankfully they were quick to respond to him as he was your second in command. “Alright, help me get him into the suitcase. While we are doing this you can start pouring the cement into the bottom of the case” he told the two men. “Why are we doing this?” One of them asked Raphael.

“Because when we dump the suitcase in the ocean the body will just sink. Also if we fill the case with quick drying cement then if the case gets damaged then it shouldn’t float back up revealing the body” he told the two idiots that were helping him cover up a serious crime.

Once the body was finally in the case the three men helped put the suitcase into the back of the truck. “I trust you to remember where I told you to dump the body,” Raphael asked the men. “Yes sir” they said before driving off to the desired location.

The whole ride there was filled with an awkward silence for the two men in front. Raphael didn’t really care as he knew that the men were scared of him and scared of messing up. When the men arrived at the destination Raphael stayed in the back of the truck while he watched the men dump the suitcase over the edge of a cliff and straight into the ocean.

Now that it was done he watched the two men relax slightly before heading back to the truck to leave the scene of the crime. “So where are we dropping you sir?” One of the lads asked Raphael. They knew that he wasn’t tagging along just to keep them company.

Raphael looked down at the first address on the notepad. “13 Aldon Grove” Raphael told the two men. “Alright sir. We will drop you off there” one of them responded. “Thanks boys. Make sure you get straight back to the hangout otherwise the boss might get angry” he told the boys warning them of your behaviour when you're already mad.

It didn’t take long before they dropped Raphael off at the address he had given the boys. “See you later. Remember what I said. Straight back” he told them before jumping out the truck and heading to the house with the number 13 on it.

The truck sped off leaving Raphael on his own. He was quick to head to the front door of the house and start banging to get the owners attention. It wasn’t long before the owner answered the door. “Can I help you?” He asked not having a clue who Raphael was.

“Hester Wheelock?” Raphael asked the man. “Yeah? Who are you?” He asked. “You don’t need to worry about who I am. You need to worry about who I work for” Raphael smirked before pushing his way into their home.

“Oh shit! Please. I need more time. I don’t have the money yet” Hester begged Raphael. “Well you should’ve thought about that before buying drugs that you couldn’t pay back. Y/n is getting impatient! You have a week before we come back and finish this properly. Trust me, I know it won’t end well for you” Raphael smirked before storming out the building.

“Remember who fucking owns you now Hester! The Wildings! That’s who!” Raphael shouted before walking off and making his way to the next house. As he was walking down the street he realised that someone was following behind him. He turned around slowly trying to get a glimpse of the person.

He didn’t have time for this so he turned around to confront the person. “Can I help you?” Raphael snapped at the person who was tagging along. To his surprise it was a woman and he could tell she was scared of him.

“Umm sorry. I just had to ask but did I overhear that you are a part of The Wildlings gang?” The woman asked. Raphael looked around before walking closer to the woman. “Why do you want to know?” He asked sternly.

The woman started to stutter in panic but managed to get out an answer quite quickly. “I’m in a difficult situation and I need a way to earn money. I’ve dealt with other gangs before but they didn’t work out. I have been trying to get into The Wildings for a while but I didn’t know how I went about getting into the gang” the woman explained.

“What is your name?” Raphael asked. “My name is Miranda. Miranda Hilmarson” she told Raphael. “Well it’s your lucky day Miranda. We have a position that has literally just opened up. You will start off doing small jobs first but if you get the job you will definitely work your way up the ranks” Raphael said smiling at the woman.

“I have to finish the job I’m on but if I give you the address of the hangout and find y/n and say that Raphael sent you then I’m sure you will have no problem getting into the gang” Raphael said before writing down the address on Miranda’s hand.

“I was sent out to recruit a new member but the boss wants to meet the new employee first before confirming anything. So if all goes well with her then you're in Miranda” Raphael smiled. “Anyway I have to go but I would get there as soon as possible. Y/n doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I will text her to let her know to expect you! Hopefully I will see you around” Raphael said before running off to finish his jobs.

Miranda just looked down at her hand before grabbing her phone and typing in the address. The sooner she gets there the sooner she can hopefully work her way into the gang. Miranda looked down at her phone before following the directions her phone was giving her.

Back at the hangout you had just finished taking a shower. This was just what you needed. It was great to have a bedroom and ensuite attached to your office. It always came in handy plus if you ever needed somewhere else to stay you had the option.

You entered your bedroom from the bathroom and got changed into something that was a bit less bloody. You didn’t plan on going anywhere else so you got into a comfortable tracksuit. Once you were sorted out you made your way back into your office to get on with some work that needed doing.

After about an hour you heard a knock on the door. You didn’t bother looking up. You knew who it was. Raphael had texted you not too long ago letting you know to expect someone. “Come in” you shouted as you continued scribbling down notes on the piece of paper in front of you.

You heard the door open and close as the woman walked into your office. You finished writing down what you needed to jot down before looking up at the woman in front of you. “Miranda is it? Please take a seat” you told the woman.

She nervously takes a seat in front of your desk. “So tell me. Why should I let you join my gang” you asked Miranda. Miranda shifted in her seat before answering. “Umm well I’ve worked in other gangs before but I’ve been trying to get in your gang for a while. I never really knew how to go about getting in. I guess the real reason is I need money and I heard you pay your employees well as well as provide great protection” Miranda said to you.

“Well that is true but you have to realise that the reason I pay so well and offer great protection is because of how serious my crimes are. As you work your way up the ranks I will be getting you to do more serious jobs. Like today I tortured and killed one of my employees because they spoke about ratting me out to the feds. If that is something you can deal with knowing that crossing me can lead to serious consequences. I need you to know how serious this position is as I don’t want to have to kill someone as beautiful as you” you smiled at her.

Miranda didn’t quite know what to say. She was thrilled about the compliment but the rest of what you said sounded pretty scary. Miranda has a quick think to herself before answering. “If you are happy to employ me then I would love to take the job including the risks that come with it” Miranda told you.

You sat back in your chair and smiled. “Well welcome to the crew then Miranda. You start tomorrow. Meet me back here tomorrow morning at 9:00 o’clock sharp. Don’t worry too much about what to wear and we don’t chuck you in the deep end. We’re not monsters” you laughed.

“Ok. So how should I refer to you from now on?” Miranda asks. “Well most people refer to me as ‘boss’ but you Miranda can call me y/n. I only let certain people call me by my first name so consider yourself lucky” you smiled at the beautiful woman in front of you.

“Ok y/n. I will see you tomorrow” Miranda said before standing up and leaving your office. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as she left your office. Hopefully your relationship with Miranda could cross over the work relationship and lead to something more you thought to yourself.

Miranda left the building and waited until she was almost at home before calling a contact on her phone. “I’m in” she said to the unknown contact. “Well down Constable Hilmarson. We should take the gang down in no time now we have someone on the inside” the deep voice said from the other end of the line.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #fanfics #constable miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda hilmarson #top of the lake #top of the lake china girl #police #undercover #undercover series #gangs #gang leader #violence #threats #body disposal #brienneoftarth1989

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wasleichtesart · 3 months

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A day late for Muriel + Eric day for @rareomens February prompt list, but here is a quick sketch!

#good omens #muriel #eric the disposable demon #rare omens #inspector constable #angel muriel #demon eric #digital art #digital sketch #sketch

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milknhonies · 3 months

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Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 6 || Masterlist || Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Upon meeting the Baroness you are enamoured by her devotion.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, (No Smut), typical historical misogyny and sexism, mentions and discussion on miscarriages. Implied domestic abuse and infidelity.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This is an important but rather sad chapter. I beseech you all to read the warnings. The details of this chapter are important to the plot of the missing Baron Thaddeus Pennicott.

Inspiring Song: "Flightless Bird American Mouth" by Vitamin String Quartet

8:30am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England.

Sherlock tucked your arm into his side as you three entered the Groveland house foyer. The floor was made of fine marble tile and with ever step a light echo raced down the halls.

The inspector called upon a nearby dusting maid to fetch the head of the house. Who returned was a thin and tall man in a butler’s uniform with a sliver pocket watch hanging from his chest. His hair was the colour of autumn leaves and his face littered in freckles.

He bowed, “I am mister Edward Redmayne, head butler of the Groveland estate, how may I assist you?”

The inspector shook his hand and stated quickly, “We spoke on the telephone yesterday? A telegraph was sent.”

The butler smiled with a relieving gasp, “Detective Holmes?”

Lestrade sheepishly looked over his shoulder to you and your husband. He nodded. His expression wore a emotion of embarrassment mixed with annoyance. Perhaps he was jealous of your husband’s successful published case stories. You wished you could have told the constable not to fret as Sherlock was nothing short of a arrogant mule...yet again- the mark on his face...he probably already knew that.

8:42am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England.

Upon meeting the lady of the house, you stood frigid by your husband. You felt somewhat self conscious by her grey eyes that lingered over your dress. Perhaps you should’ve worn your Sunday best before meeting a woman of such a high status.

The baroness was unmistakably pregnant. Her belly was bold and rounded beneath her maternity gown. She had been sitting calmly on a resting chaise, knitting a small bonnet for her future child. Her hands were covered in fine burgundy velvet gloves to match her modest dress.

Her face was framed by a light brown curls, that appeared almost white in some places, twisted into a bum at the base of her neck. Her pale face was blotchy with pink flecks and slight acne.

“Lady Pennicott, I am Inspector Braydon Lestrade of Scotland Yard,” the British officer proclaimed as he bowed dramatically forward. You withheld a girlish giggle by how low the man had bent his head and presented himself foolishly, and from the corner of your eye you manage to catch the whisp of Sherlock’s smirk.

The inspector waved his arm behind him and moved aside, “-and with me is Detective Sherlock Holmes and his wife, Mrs Holmes.”

You produced the baroness a respectable curtsy, your eyes glued down to the beautifully patterned carpet. You wondered how the servants could keep it so clean and freshly unstained by dirty guests. It must have been new.

The baroness shuffled her knitting needles and ball of woollen yarn into a Whicker basket and disposed of it beside her.

A slow stretching smile graced her thin lips as she spoke to you, “Oh, are you the little dear who solved that factory match girl incident?”

You weren’t sure how to answer her question. You weren’t entirely sure what the baroness was referencing until Sherlock stepped closer with your arm still cradled in his.

“No dear Baroness,” Sherlock pat your hand gently, “That would have been my sister Enola Holmes, she has her own detective office at present moment. My wife is here on my invitation. I wished to gift her a sight of the grand park and estate while I was here upon duty.”

The Baroness cocked her head, from her ears hung pearls that swung and hung like rain drops.

“Come forth dear,” she lifted her hand and beckoned you, “I would like to have better view of you.”

You wondered if she could smell the sweat beginning to drop down the back of your neck. You bit your tongue and tried to refrain from trembling. You were nervous. Her eyes were cold but her smile warm, two conflating details that you couldn’t understand. The last thing you needed now on top of a terrible start to your marriage was to be scrutinized by a haughty pregnant baroness.

She flickered your fingers for you to bend down to her. As you leant down, you swore you could smell copper, a metalic scent. A vein on your scalp pulsed. She scanned your face of its details. You dared to wonder what she was searching for. And then it clicked...the smell...

‘Dear god, you prayed, please don’t let her smell my blood, please let this not be my blood...’

You should have sprits on some perfume before leaving baker street.

She glanced behind you and questioned angelically, “How does it feel having such a clever husband?”

Your lips opened and closed. You resembled a fish. You were stumped to answer quickly.

‘Miserable, infuriating, torturous, pleasurable mixed with a cup of agony...’

She lifted her brows until you hurriedly blurted, “He is...formidable and righteous...” you stood up tall and took a step back, adding with a monetarism of truth, “I am very lucky to have become his bride.”

‘Lucky, while incredibly resentful.’

You reached back, Sherlock adopted your arm back into his hold once more.

Lady Pennicott rubbed her belly, her eyes started to twinkle, “And soon you will have a plethora of children that will look like him I gather.”

Your eyes fluttered. Sherlock’s hand tightened around your glove and his throat bobbed. You felt hot in the face.

Yes that’s right, that’s what normal husband and wife did isn’t it? They have children. That was your role, to be the mother of Sherlock’s offspring...

You couldn’t answer.

And there. That dear girl is when you questioned for the first time. ‘Is this what I want?’ and ‘Do I want Sherlock’s children.’ Because having a knowing of his barbarism conflated a fear in your belly...would Sherlock hurt his own children if he could easily hurt you, his wife?

When you hesitated for too long to answer her again, Sherlock said with a strained tone that was masked in a hopeful joy, “One may only hope, Baroness.”

“Lady Pennicott,” Graydon interrupted, “We have come to ask you on the whereabouts of Lord Pennicott and the evening he was last sighted.”

Her eyes narrowed at the inspector and with an annoyed twinge she muttered and wiped her hands on a nearby blanket, “I already informed the police of what I was informed of by our butler Edward.”

She glanced up next her right. Mister Redmayne observed her, looking down. The pair smiled to each other. She reached out to him. She grabbed his hand and they squeezed.

The inspector laughed nervously, “Indeed but Detective Sherlock Holmes was not presently involved in the case until yesterday.”

Her eyes flickered quickly to your husband and her face flared with confusion quickly to be matched with a impressed smile, “Of course, please sit all of you as I am near a indisposition with my child,” she gestured to the mirroring chaise and a chair beside the fireplace, “Edward, please tell Martha to bring tea and biscuits for our kind service men and Mrs Holmes.”

The butler bowed to you all and left the sitting room.

Lestrade took his place on the lone chair while Sherlock sat you beside him on the chaise. You took your time to lower yourself. Sitting on your bruises was uncomfortable while another cramp hit you. Your fingers dug into his palm.

From Lestrades breast pocket he pulled out a notebook and small pencil.

“Lady Pennicott,” Sherlock softly hummed, “Please, could you tell me what your husband is like as a person?”

The woman who you believed was in her late thirties smiled and stated softly, “My Thaddeus is a noble man, good taste in wine and very devoted to his work. He likes to go hunting and we share a passion for gardening,” she glanced up at the ceiling and paused, “He prefers to plant vegetables to donate to the church and orphans, whereas I have always loved to grow my flowers.”

The way she described him, her devotion was deep and honourable. She touched her round belly.

Sherlock looked over to the fire place behind the baroness. On the mantle was a magnificent portrait twice your height, painted on the canvas was who you recognised as Lord and Lady Pennicott. He was sitting up straight on a fine red cushioned chair with his dirty blonde hair and softened mutton chops while she stood at his right and her ringed hand on his shoulder. The similarities were there but Lady Pennicotts hair had lightened in reality perhaps from all the years that separated her likeness and her reality.

“I was informed Lord Pennicott is a father of five?” Sherlock asked.

The Baroness smiled proudly and pat her tummy softly, “Six soon.”

You couldn’t help notice something was missing from the painting, Sherlock also had a similar thought.

Where were the children in the portrait? Where was a family portrait in the house?

“Forgive me,” a breath of air escaped from him, “are the children away at school?”

“Oh,” her uncanny smile remained while her brows angled down, her throat tightened as she spoke, “I fear they are in the loving embrace of angels now. All of them were taken from us by God,” her eyes glanced to you, “They came out sleeping.”

Your heart sunk to the pit of your belly with sorrow and pity.

Five babies lost, five babies gone…five pregnancies… four and a half years of pregnancy and for what? Five angels.

A woman had one holy role in life, to bare her husband children, and when a woman was defective or produced a sickly child, it was a symbol of failure in society. But you never saw it that way...you imagined it must’ve been agony to lose so many babies. One or two was a common occurrence but five? Five was a curse to experience and relive over and over.

“Well,” you interrupted Sherlock rudely, cutting him off from his next abrasive question by squeezing his hand a little too hard.

You could see the mourning in the baroness’ face. You saw the classic look of all women made uncomfortable by something a man has said. What the hell would the detective know about a woman’s emotions after how coldly he has treated all women and yourself.

You shuffled on the opposite chaise and smile softly, “I will pray this one will come swiftly and feel the warmth of their mother.”

The baroness’ face lifted and warmed. She smiled happily and nodded, “Thankyou, oh I’m just so excited! This one really is a big one, I can feel it. I hope it’s a boy.”

Sherlock was staring at you intensely as the maid Martha finally delivered a pot of tea and poured the steaming liquid. His brows were knitted and his eyes held suspicion as he kept you in his sight. You politely nodded your head once at him before reaching for a hot cup and lifting it to your lips.

Sherlock sighed and turned back to his questioning, “You would say you liked your marriage?”

The baroness appeared offended by your husband as her face wrinkled and a sneer spread her thin lips, “Of course, any woman who doesn’t like her marriage should not be married in the first place. She is a burden to her husband if she cannot perform her duties as a wife.”

Lady Pennicott leant forward and collected her own cup of tea, she delicately pinched a biscuit and dunked it into the contents.

…you felt Sherlock drag his thumb across your fingers. You felt chilly, could he read your thoughts? Did he know truly how much you already hated him and his ideas of intimacy in your marriage? He clear his throat when both your glancing eyes caught each other.

“Can you tell me what happened,” Sherlock pressed, “The night of your husbands disappearance?”

“Well...after dinner,” the baroness sighed in thought and nibbled on her moist biscuit, “Thaddeus wanted to speak with me in his office about a spending I had made a week ago. You see, I had bought a cradle for the nursery. The one we had originally was broken and beyond repair, we disposed of it a month prior. Thaddeus was not pleased with the price and claimed it was an unnecessary purchase,” she paused and set her cup aside before she touched her belly again; rubbing in soft slow circles, she began to blushed, “He was sorely hurt by my choice. He then became very cross with me and left his office in a huff.”

She looked to the yarn, to the tea pot and then finally to the painting on the mantle, “I deemed that he would find forgiveness in his heart by the morning and brush it off. I returned back to the nursery to tidy up before I went to my rooms and went to bed to sleep in my quarters of the east wing. Thaddeus keeps himself to the west wing most nights.”

The detective nodded, “What time do you believe it was when you went to your bed, Baroness?”

She hummed softly while pursuing her lips, “A quarter to nine in the evening.”

“And how did you realise your husband was missing?” Sherlock stole a scone off the tea tray and lifted it to his lips. He paused amidst chewing it slowly.

The noble woman sighed and recollected, pragmatically, “In the morning Mr Redmayne informed me on how Thaddeus took off into the night astride Arion, our prize stallion Clydesdale. Thaddeus had not returned by the next morning and that is when concern drew near. I sent members of my staff to the factories to investigate his whereabouts and none had come upon him. I knew something had to be wrong so I alerted the authorities by the second morning.”

Your husband took a deep breath and discarded the half bitten scone, he wiped his hand unceremoniously on his jacket and throatily asked, “Do you recall if Lord Pennicott has any potential persons he might be deemed as an enemy towards?”

“Only his company competitors, Detective,” She said saccharinely with her smile, “He was a very loveable man.”

“Do you have a list of the names of staff who were working that evening here in Groveland House?”

The butler stepped forward and cleared his throat, “That would be in Lord Pennicotts office,” he pulled out a pair of keys, “I can you show you gentlemen in and where he keeps his accounts and other paraphernalia to his business if you’d like?”

Both Sherlock and Lestrade smiled and stood up.

“Baroness,” Sherlock gently requested, “Would it be overly bothersome if my beloved wife remained and kept you company while the inspector and I look in your husband’s office.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. What was Sherlock doing leaving you behind with the Baroness by yourself!?....what if you spoke out of turn or said something too presumptuous for your status!?...

“Most certainly not,” she beamed “I will gladly accept such delightful company,” She held out a hand, palm down to her right. The butler speedily stepped to her side and leant her his hand. She winced as she scooted forward on the cushioned lounge before struggling to rise to her feet.

Sherlock leant down and kissed the back of your wrist again, so scantily in front of the baroness. You tried tor refrain from loudly gasped and bringing anymore dangerous attention to yourself. Your husband left your side and followed the butler with Lestrade out of the sitting room.

So the party turned to two married women. The baroness was pleased.

She stepped closer to you and reached for your arm. You were surprised by her familiarity but you would not deny the assistance of a woman so desperately swollen and ready to birth any day.

“My dear, would you care to have a stroll with me in my garden?” She smirked and jerked her chin, “Knowing how dear Thaddie kept his space organised I suspect the gentlemen might be a while.”

You nodded and quickly made the warning assurance, “Are you in a condition to move great feets Lady Pennicott?”

“Fret not,” She giggled girlishly and waved her hand casually, “The physician told me fresh air is delightful for the health of the babe,” she tapped the top of her belly, “I have a month or so before they come.”

Your eyes widened, she looked huge enough to give birth now, surely she wasn’t a month away!! Maybe she was going to be blessed with a pair of twins. You had such a limited knowledge of pregnancy in women. Your grandmother hadn’t given birthed a child in the last forty years before your birth!!!

She pointed the way out of the main mansion to enter the garden paths. The sun was perfect today amongst the clouds. It was neither cold nor hot nor humid and dank...it was pleasant and you could smell the fresh nature of bushels and flowers.

“How long have you been known as, The Mrs Holmes?” She inquired cheerfully with her shining silver eyes.

“...Not very long,” you replied warmly before risking a white lie, “We recently finished our honeymoon.”

She grinned and waddled passed a wooden bench, she took a quick stop to rest and pat the seat for you to join her instead of standing dumbly.

“Shall I share some words of advise?,” She hummed, “From a woman that has been married for twelve years?”

“I would be ever so grateful,” you said rushed and desperate. You wouldve listened to anything she had to say. A woman of her standing must’ve held adequate wisdom.

She warmly cupped both your hands and squeezed them. And yet there was an ice creepy into her gaze. She appeared to dissociate, her voice losing its youthful lilt. Her lip wobbled slightly.

“Men are visual creatures. While you are so young and beautiful, you must become pregnant as soon as possible,” Lady Pennicott ran her palm across your waist, her eyes like razors cut across the yard to a bush of red rose buds, “It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature,” those grey stones in her face rolled back and weighed you down, “as I said- visual creatures. The sooner you make a babe, the easier his devotion comes,” A joyous grin returned to her thin lips, she playfully tapped the tip of your nose and stated, “Trust me upon this.”

You clenched your hand behind you and strained a smile, “I thankyou for such wise words Baroness. I will endeavour to do what I must to conceive.”

At this moment in time Sherlock had proved himself a monstrous villain. Would it be possible for you to fall pregnant?

You looked out at the divine lush greenery and exhaled softly.

“Do you garden Mrs Holmes?” the baroness queried.

You chuckled softly and removed your gloves, you flashed her a sight of your palm, “I am afraid my hands have never been introduced. My grandmother preferred I focus on mastering piano and embroidery.”

The grey orbs fluttered back at you with a surprised him, “Embroidery is a lovely skill,” she pat your hand and pointed across the field, “Please help me up Mrs Holmes, let us take a look at my lilacs.”

You stood straight up and leant out your arm, she was surprisingly light for a woman her size. She leant against you and took small timid steps to her flower patches.

She stood and admired the flower patches, pointing to different types and explaining the breeds of flowers she hoped to grow in the future.

You finally bent over enough and cupped the petals of purple to hold up to your nose and took in a wiff “They smell lovely,” from the corner of your eye was a line of crimson, “I see your roses will soon be in bloom.”

She pinched a bud that was peaking to bloom soon.

“Oh yes, the soil is rich and healthy,” she giggled, “I can’t wait for Thaddeus to return, he liked the roses. He would stand here for a while and think. I know he will love the red colour. It is his favourite shade you see...” She sighed dreamily with her eyes scanning the bushes of scarlet rose buds, “I miss him terribly. I hope he’s alright. I want him to come home soon before the baby arrives.”

A fly smacked into your eye and you sputtered, battering it away. When you gracelessly composed yourself, you stood back up to your feet beside the Lady of Groveland.

You could see how her eyes puddles with droplets of mournful tears. You felt bad for any woman that did not know where her husband was. Especially if there was a rumour about him fleeing the marriage and abandoning her in her serious pregnant condition.

Taking the chance, you boldly took both your hands into yours and now squeezed them. Another buzzing from a fly sat on your shoulder.

The day was growing warmer and a bead of sweat rolled down your neck. The fly tickled your neck and suckled along your salted skin.

You tried your best to ignore the annoying creature.

“I am sure he will Lady Pennicott,” you soothed with a soft welcoming grin, “And he will be most happy when he returns.”

She sighed solemnly and glanced back at the rose bushes. You felt obligated for her happiness in that moment. Glancing back to the house you felt a opportunity come to you.

“May I visit your nursery Lady Pennicott, so I may have references for my own in the future?”

Her eyes flickered up, her face shine bright and her hand tightened over your wrists excitedly as though she was still as youthful as a school girl.

“Why of course Mrs Holmes,” she spun on her heel and wobbled a slight, she lifted her hand and called to the maid Martha still packing the china set inside, “Please inform the detective that I am taking his wife up to the nursery.”

“Yes Baroness,” she said with a humble curtsey and scurried off while Lady Pennicott took you totally inside the house and up a grand stair case from the foyer.

9:03am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England.

Up, up, up you both climbed the stairs. You noticed how the stairs didn’t bother her ladyship once, she was fit and stridden widely whereas you were breathing a little hard by the top step.

She pulled you down a hallway to a white painted door.

She excitedly opened the door wide and practically skipped inside to show you around her future child’s room.

The walls were covered in light blue and yellow paint. There were small peonies covering the trim of the room. There was no carpet but who needed one when you had a newborn.

“Welcome to the resting nest of my baby,” Lady Pennicott proudly exclaimed, spreading her arms out at the room around you.

There was a tall shelf filled with stuffed animals and teddy bears. There was a rocking horse, a doll house, spinning tops, tin cars and rubber balls all waiting, collecting dust, awaiting the arrival of a playmate. There was a permabulator by the window sill. There was a rocking chair in one corner and against the wall closest to the door- you smiled and swaggered over curiously, “Is this the cradle you bought?”

It was made of fine cream painted wood. You chewed your bottom lip in the thought. It was a lovely crib, why was Lord Pennicott so upset by such a delightful purchase? He didn’t have money issues. You put it down as that you didn’t understand the way men thought and men will never know what women think.

“Yes,” Lady Pennicott chirped, “it is from William Whitely department store in Baywater next to the Howard & Co dress department.”

The Baroness sat down into her rocking chair and slowly moved it back and forth, watching you admire the nursery she spent hours and years consistently curating.

You clenched the edge and looked over the railing down at the empty bedding. There was a teddy lamb in the corner, you pinched it’s fluffy white tail and sighed. For a brief moment you let your eyes close and your imagination wander far.

One day you’d have this...with Sherlock. An empty cradle to be filled. You caught the vision of a tiny hand squeeze around your finger and the sound of soft gurgles with the warm pressure of a hand on your waist...was that Sherlock’s hand? Was that your child?

One day you’d have a baby to care for, to provide these things that meant love...yet, was any child of Sherlock’s capable of love? He certainly wasn’t as far as you were concerned.

You bit down a shudder and opened your eyes, feeling hot tears glide down a cheek. You pushed back and sighed, “I am most confident on one thing Lady Pennicott.”

“And what is that Mrs Holmes?” she said softly, she could see the unspoken pain in your face. You swallowed hard and your face fell into a smile, you flashed her a wink.

You laughed softly, “Your child will be spoilt rotten by the love you give.”

She chuckled with you and nodded.

“Have you thought of a name?” you inquired, waltzing over to the chested drawers of baby knick knacks on display.

“Thaddeus Colin if it’s a boy,” she hummed, “or Theresa Grace if it is a girl.”

“Theresa?”

She giggled gently, “That is my name dear.”

Mrs Theresa Pennicott. It suited her. Her old soul eyes reflected her devout name.

A shine of glass pierced a ray of sun into your eyes, you pinched the glass object carefully. You touched a long black tube pulling out of it. You couldnt understand it’s purpose, your eyes narrowed at the rubber end that was shaped like a thumb or a cows udder. There was a second tube attached to the first with a rubber squeeze ball at the end.

“What is this?” you humoured.

“Oh that? It’s a fantastic invention,” The baroness said, “It’s a pump for breast milk with a tube that syphons the milk into this baby feeding bottle. When babies start to teeth they can scar your breasts. This is an effective and modern method I look forward to trying.”

Your eyes widened, scarring!? Babies teeth could scar a breast!?

You placed the bottle bump back and helped Lady Pennicott when she beckoned to stand back up from the rocking chair.

“Have you ever felt the sensations?” She suddenly, “In which they kick within?”

Your face must’ve looked idiotic as you asked plainly, “Kick?”

She giggled and nodded, “Give me your hand, perhaps you may feel them moving.”

She plucked your palm and pulled your glove off your fingers. She pressed your entire hand intimately to her belly. You felt a sense of taboo shame, she was making you touch such a beloved spot.

“Do you feel it?” she then asked.

Felt what? Confusion flooded your mind. Your hand moved around her belly slowly.

“I am afraid I don’t know what I’m meant to be feeling?”

She moved your hand and again you felt absolutely nothing.

“They are very brutal on my body,” Lady Pennicott sarcastically assured, “trust me there is a kick.”

She made a point to push your hand harder, but all you felt was the hard material of her corsetry beneath her main dressing materials.

“Baby’s kick you inside?” you marvelled with stunned horror. This was the first time you’d ever heard of such a notion of a baby beating it’s mother inside.

“Not out of malicious intent Mrs Holmes,” she reassured, “mostly it is the baby using its limbs to move their cramped bodies inside or excitement at the sound of voices, I truly believe they can hear us while still inside. Fear not, to you it will feel like a faint touch like this-”

Lady Pennicott softly tapped your wrist, “Like that.”

And there again was new knowledge you heard from a woman on matters of pregnancy. You moved your fingers around, seeking the supposed feeling of a kick...

Still nothing. You frowned, was there something wrong with you that the baby was choosing not to reveal itself.

“How interesting...”

A soft knock on wood alerted you both to glance at the door.

“Mrs Holmes,” the butler from earlier politely spoke, “the detective is requesting your return, I believe he intends to depart.”

Your face fell. You couldn’t believe it but you’d found this experience immensely enjoyable. You had surprisingly made a friend of the Baroness.

The fair lady hugged your side and sweetly exhaled, “Then I shall escort you back to your husband, Eddie fetch me my cheque book.”

He nodded and walked ahead of you both. You solemnly shut the nursery door, trying to remember every precious detail as possible. It was a innocent place to escape from the crude world.

You returned to the bottom of the foyer and smiled at your husband that stood by Lestrade at the front doors.

By the bottom step you faced the noble woman and curtsied.

“Thankyou Lady Pennicott for your kind hospitality and agreeable cooperation to the case,” you heard Sherlock’s voice float over your shoulder.

“Of course detective, please,” the Butler returned with her cheque book, “find my beloved Thaddeus.”

She scribbled speedily with a modernised ink pen, a sharp tear of paper flashed to his direction, “Here. Thirty pounds. I am sure you are busy with other clients considering your reputation, but I beseech you to seek out my husband quickly.”

Sherlock bowed his head as he deposited the cheque into his pocket, “We shall try our hardest. Good afternoon Lady Pennicott.”

Your mouth might’ve collected flies. Thirty pounds. THIRTY pounds. That was a hefty wage for a year to many men.

Sherlock was granted his coat and walking cane along with Lestrade.

He opened the front door and left slowly, glancing over your shoulder back at the heavily pregnant Baroness.

9:21am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England.

Sherlock and you walked up the gravel path in silence for sometime. You weren’t in much of a mood to speak to him despite well knowing conversation would need to spark eventually.

The three of you slowed down beside the inspectors horse cart.

Thankfully it was Sherlock who destroyed the silence with a stretched sigh. Lestrade grimly smiled at that sigh and rocked on his heels.

“Lestrade, show a useful skill,” Sherlock slapped a coin purse into his chest, “Find my wife and I a decent ride homeward. You still need to return back to the office and finish writing those reports on the Spring heeled Jack sightings....” he snickered.

The mutton chop male grumbled and left you pair alone to walk down the path into the main parklands to hail a cabriolet or another hackney carriage.

Sherlock pulled out his pipe and lit it quickly, he inhaled fast and asked curiously, “Did you learn anything else from our suspect?”

You squinted and felt a gasp pop from your lips, your hand snapped out and dug your nails into his arm with a scolding hiss, “Suspect? Look at the state she is in Sherlock. She clearly loves her husband. How could such a indisposed woman do anything to her husband?”

He smirked, “Perhaps a jealous one?”

Your brows pulled together. Jealousy wasn’t something you would’ve describe Lady Pennicott as especially with such a privileged life. Such an emotion wouldve been beneath her...but.. ‘It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature.’

Sherlock pinched out a piece of card from his pocket, a business calling card, he flashed it through his fingers and let you carefully pluck it from his hand.

“it is no wonder Thaddeus Pennicotts name was so familiar,” Sherlocks huffed a puff of air, “He visits a like minded establishment.”

On the front of the card was a single image, a dove holding a olive leaf, and when you turned the card around there was a woman modelled in immodest clothing with text and an address in perfect hand writing.

“The Mayfair Row Dove club.”

You almost dropped the card in the mud at your feet.

He tucked the card back into his breast pocket and hooked his arm around yours, walking you closer to Lestrade waving his hands back at you both.

“I’m curious who his go to bird is there,” He chuckled.

You shook your head and scoffed in disbelief, “but she’s pregnant.”

“Men have needs,” Sherlock sighed, “I thought you’d have learnt that from last evening?”

Your nails dug harder into his arm and grit your teeth. Not everyone was as depraved as Sherlock, surely not. You couldn’t imagine Mycroft or your grandfather practicing such atrocities on women, especially women that weren’t their wives.

You noted snootily, “She said her husband liked to stand out by the roses to think. Perhaps he regretted his choice.”

Sherlock laughed cruelly and hard enough to almost drop his pipe from his lips. He plucked it out of his mouth and kissed you hard and squarely in front of Lestrade and any passing people that shook their heads in disgust at such public affection.

The taste of his tobacco filled your cheeks and floated down your throat into your chest. You could feel how his breath became your breath. Your head grew dizzy from it. His release left you trembling and collapsing against him briefly. His arm grabbed around your waist and held you totally against his chest.

“You see too much good in the worst people,” he whispered wetly into your ear.

“Not true,” you panted, you blinked your eyes hard and tried speaking again. You weakly pushed away from him back onto your own two feet. From the corner of your eyes you could see the inspector standing beside another hackney carriage.

“Not true,” you repeated and swallowed hard, “...I don’t see any good in you Sherlock.”

He grinned devilishly and walked you both to the carriage, He ignored Lestrade entirely except for retrieving his own purse.

“None at all?” Sherlock asked as he helped you step up inside of the carriage. It jostled as he plotted himself next to you instead of opposite.

You thought hard on his question for a time. You shouldn’t have ever been as petty as him. So you kept your silence before you could decide on a eloquent response. You did try to find the good in him. The trouble was you barely knew Sherlock and the side that you’d encounter was nothing short of a blagged, insufferable man that happened to be very experienced in the arts of the bedroom. So you tried to think about qualities you hadn’t seen in him but had at least heard of him.

“You help solve cases and even sometimes restitution, these deeds could be counted as decent and beneficial...perhaps good...”

He smirked until you finished hastily, “However your mistreatment and lustful addiction is nothing short of that than a person that suffers in his sin.”

A long annoyed sigh drew from his lips, however the corners jerked up.

He tug out his pipe and tapped it’s contents out the moving window, “Might I ask Mrs Holmes...” he inquired as he tucked in his pipe, and wiped his lips thoughtfully, “Do you think yourself better than me?”

The silence shared between the horses trotting along the cobblestones allowed you a chance to glare long and hard at Sherlock.

It was a jab, a jibe, a joke, a trick, a trap...

He wanted you to say yes... You could see it in his eyes the way they flicked to your lips and almost drooled with anticipation. He wanted to start a fight.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at you, you turned your head away and scoffed, “You may have quick wit and a expansive knowledge Sherlock, but I at least carry myself with the fairest morals.”

And that? The reply was granted a omen of Sherlock’s sickly chuckles and his heavy warm hand to sit over your thigh, running his them over the fabric of your skirts.

“We will see how fair a baker street whore morals really are when we arrive home then shall we?”

You leant against the wall of the carriage and chose to ignore him. You closed your eyes and held Sherlock’s hand to prevent it wandering anywhere else. His thumb rubbed along the back of your gloves hands.

You couldn’t understand Sherlock. And feared you never would.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x ofc #sherlock holmes x female reader #sherlock holmes x poc!reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #dark!sherlock holmes #dark!henry cavill

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inquisitors-and-serpents · 6 months

Text

Pen name: Nikolaevna

Classified Report #████: Summary (17th of August, 1895)

Born in Florence, Italy with no identifiable mother or father under the name Cirillo █████. Was raised by the Constables before being "disposed" of in 1883 after openly assisting with a murder. Allegedly assisted with the murder of Fyodor Ivanovich Volkov in October 1883. Has ties with cases of espionage and vandalism between November 1883 to April 1886, and was recruited by "The Pandemonium" by May 1886. Framed for the murder of Markov Nikolaevich Regulus and was marked as persona non grata in 1891. Soon fled to the Neath in 18██. Current whereabouts unknown.

To be proclaimed dead, under any circumstances.

Pen name: Vox R. Volkov

Classified Report #████: Summary (28th of February, 1896)

Born in Budapest, Austria-Hungary as the second heir to the Volkov family. Partly responsible for the death of his father Fyodor Ivanovich Volkov in October 1883. Has assisted in cases of murder and robbery from November 1883 to April 1886. Was adopted by Markov Nikolaevich Regulus in June 1886 and was soon integrated into "The Pandemonium" by July 1886. Killed Markov Nikolaevich Regulus in 1891 and was marked as persona non grata by authorities, as per Regulus' will along with his accomplice. Fled to the Neath in 18██ following ████'s trail. Current whereabouts unknown.

Assumed dead.

[They’re now open to accept calling cards! (took them long enough).]

#fallen london #fallen london oc #leisurely sketches #also some bits of lore #please do send them calling cards if you want to ive been itching to write in-character for a while #oc: elio king #oc: vox volkov

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demifiendrsa · 9 months

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youtube

Mortal Kombat 1 - Official Umgadi Trailer

Mortal Kombat 1 will launch for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S, Nintendo Switch, and PC (Steam, Epic Games Store) on September 19, 2023.

Screenshots

Latest details

Main Roster and Kameo Fighters

Main Roster

Li Mei – The former member of the Umgadi now serves as a constable in Outworld’s police force and has an array of magical abilities at her disposal.

Tanya – Leader of the Umgadi, she is a skilled fighter and one of the order’s most trusted members.

Baraka – An outcast due to the Tarkat plague that has turned him into a deadly monster, he now leads his fellow afflicted Outworlders in battle.

Kameo Fighters

Darrius – The klassic character returns as a Kameo Fighter, providing support during matches with a range of assisting moves.

#Mortal Kombat 1 #MK1 #Mortal Kombat #Li Mei #Tanya #Baraka #Netherrealm Studios #QLOC #Saber Interactive #Warner Bros. Games #video game #PS5 #Xbox Series #Xbox Series X #Xbox Series S #Nintendo Switch #PC #Steam #Epic Games Store

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hezekiahwakely · 3 months

Text

More detailed notes before the next episode drops. I should see if I can put my silly powers of trivia to work and help edit the wiki.

Transcribed below the cut:

Page 1

TMAGP#002 - Making Adjustments 1/23/24

Sam asking lots of questions 👁️

- What DOES DPHW stand for?

Incident - CAT3RBC1567-23092022-18012024 Transformation (full) -/- dysmorphic [video call]

Listed in transcript as a "case file"

- Accessed by FR3-d1?

Daria and therapist

Ink5oul on Instagram (they/them) -Dubstep -London studio -Livestreaming -Floral serpent tattoo on arm & neck

Daria's paintbrush design -Floral patterns -Unknown, glittering symbols -Started on forearm, then spread across body as she made more + more alterations.

Caught by roommate Sarah.

Gwen + Alice conversation - Breakroom CCTV

Gwen thinks Lena is planning lay-offs, overheard her on phone saying they're "expanding external operations."

Page 2

TMAGP#002 Notes con. 1/23/24

Alice thinks it more likely she'll "hire another Sam."

Alice barely speaks to Lena

Gwen desperate for respect, thinks Lena views them as disposable.

Alice's Phone Conversation

28th is payday

Brother, Luke, is in band: Dredgerman.

- Sam knows him

Sam researching the Institute!

Alice trying to dissuade him from getting caught up in this.

Page 3

TMAGP#003 - Putting Down Roots 1/28/24

Computers Malfunctioning

.jmj error (!)

Colin doesn't trust/believe in central IT.

- Doesn't like Alice humanizing the PCs.

Colin believes he's the only one who knows the most about the system.

- Believes it's malfunctioning on purpose.

Alice flirts w/Freddie lol

- Also thinks Robert Englund would have made a better Jack from The Shining.

- Horror fan?

Incident - CAT2C8175-03042009-22012024 Infection (full body) -/- arboreal [journal entry] (written by guest writer Graeme Patrick)

Seems to be a police evidence record/email? Gleaned by FR3-d1.

- Case: 1201/19 -Serial #: 72003210 -Collector: Special Constable Caroline Jennings 2911 -Routing to: South-East Evidence Storage - Lewisham

First journal entry dated 07/12/09... eight months ahead of this record (03/04/09)

Page 4

TMAGP#003 Notes con. 1/28/24

Dr. Samuel Webber

- Killed wife, Maddie -> cheated/possibly married w/Gerald Andrews

- Isolated and unappreciated by those around him (in his mind). Lonely driving someone into the arms of Corruption?

Aspects: bombed out church, jasmine, time distortion/separate dimension (isolated), dead whispers, infection, forgiveness/guilt free, love, blooming

Definitions

- Allotment - (British English) A plot of land rented for individual gardening/farming.

- Lock-up - (British English) A rentable garage (storage locker).

Alice gives correct categorization for this Incident (infection: arboreal)

Page 5

TMAGP#003 Notes con. 1/28/24

According to Alice, Sam has "wobbly... little stick legs" and "noodle arms." He is also a "cute wimp."

She wants Sam to go behind Colin's back (stirring the pot?) to IT

He says no and avoids getting involved in the following arguement. [sic]

He can stand up to Alice (wonder what their breakup was like).

Alice is a lot more nasty toxic and resentful than she lets on.

- How much does Gwen actually have to do with the upper class?

Does Alice also want to know what's up w/the PCs?

They're all coffee drinkers

workin' the night shift

Gwen has a party on the 27th (27/01/2024) w/old friend who made partner at a law firm. She feels envious.

#tmagp #tmagp 3 #tmagp 2 #the magnus protocol #I hope someone gets something out of these #theyre mostly for my own reference #but maybe they'll be entertaining to someone as addicted to information as i am

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sur-nos-cendres · 21 days

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Bonjour, en ce jour-4, nous vous présentons l'annexe des forces de l'ordre. En espérant que cela vous plaira et bonne lecture ! Nous vous rappelons aussi que le premier multi-compte est offert à l'ouverture. ♡

Malgré l'instabilité grandissante de la ville, Birmingham possède également ses forces de l'ordre et plus de trente agents à sa disposition si besoin est en plus de sa propre bridage anti-gangs. Cependant, ces forces sont teintées de corruption mais aussi de nombreux scandales ayant vu le jour il y a un an, en 2023. Révélés par les tabloïds de la ville, l'image de la police est depuis ternie. Si l'ancien Chief Superintendent de la police et de la police seulement, (Brutus Cormack, personnage non jouable) vient de démissionner suite aux craintes des habitants, ayant peur que les mensonges gangrènent leur chère ville, deux camps s'installent en coulisses, entre messes basses et regards meurtris, entre la brigade et celleux qu'iels appellent la triste police. Réintroduire l'ancien chef ou porter au sommet une nouvelle figure ? Certaines alliances se forment et il sera impossible de s'en défaire. Croix de bois, croix de fer, si je mens, je vais en enfer.

Devant les prunelles observatrices du public, iels paraissent soudés, bien rangés, prêts à se battre pour garder l'image dorée qu'ils se veulent de partager. Ils sont l'avenir de la ville qu'ils osent esquisser comme boucliers contre les sales critiques mais même si les forces sont séparées en deux clans, il se peut qu'il y ait beaucoup plus de mystères. Des secrets et des pactes que personne n'ira dévoiler. La brigade rêve d'éclats dorés, de faire plier les gangs esseulés. La police, elle, rêve de simplement se glisser sous un jour favorable. Qu'on puisse la voir en force puissante. Loin d'être touchée par la montée en puissance de la brigade anti-gangs. Alors, de quel côté votre cœur penche ? La loyauté ou la nouveauté ?

La police en Angleterre ne fait pas de distinction entre police administrative et judiciaire, la recherche de preuves est avant tout le rôle des policiers. Elle se compose également de cinq pôles différents : Neighbourhood Policing (police de voisinage), Traffic (s’occupant du trafic routier), Firearms (pour la réponse armée), Marine (pour les côtes et fleuves), Horses (police à cheval pour la campagne ou les foules urbaines). La ville de Birmingham en possède les cinq. De plus, il faut noter que la police n'est pas autorisée à porter des armes à feu et possède seulement un taser. Considérée comme simple, c'est la police qui gère la plupart des petites affaires quotidiennes, comme les vols, les amendes... Tout ce qui est lié aux organisations (maisons) va directement à la brigade.

Il existe également six grades dans les forces de l'ordre anglaise, chaque agent est assermenté lorsqu'il se voit offrir le poste. Le premier grade, celui de Constable, également connu comme Police Officer, est celui du policier ordinaire, celui qui est directement en contact avec les habitants. Il faut deux ans de travail probatoire pour un Constable - après quoi, il a le droit de solliciter un poste de Detective Constable ou de Sergeant. Les promotions suivantes prennent aussi au minimum deux ans. La liste ci-dessous part du grade le plus bas au grade le plus important. Une exception est cependant faite pour la brigade, qui dispose d'un grade en plus.

La brigade anti-gang (Research and Intervention Brigade) est une unité qui a vu le jour il y a quelques années. Maintes fois dissoute puis reformée, son rôle est de protéger les habitants mais aussi les hauts-fonctionnaires contre les organisations qui ne cessent de s'agrandir. Souvent laissée dans l'ombre, c'est grâce aux scandales de 2023 qu'elle reçoit un peu de lumière et que les subventions trop de fois demandées, ont été obtenues. Se basant sur la même dynamique que la police, les promotions prennent au minimum deux ans. Iels se veulent l'élite et il est parfois difficile de pouvoir y entrer. La police ainsi que la brigade se trouvent à Ladywood.

— Constable. — Sergeant. — Inspector. — Chief Inspector. — Superintendent. — Chief Superintendent. — Crime Commissioner.

Nous ne voulions pas faire de prédéfinis pour les forces de l'ordre pour vous laisser le maximum de libertés. Cependant, nous vous demandons de faire attention à la cohérence, aux backgrounds de vos personnages. Vous pourrez sans souci, en respectant le nombre défini par postes, créer vos propre pré-liens en prenant l'annexe comme base. Vous trouverez ci-dessous la liste des postes par unité. Nous vous demandons également de noter que la police et la brigade, même si elles se partagent les mêmes locaux, ne sont pas liée l'une à l'autre et que chacune des deux possède son propre chef, Chief Superintendent pour la police et Crime Commissioner pour la brigade. Si l'une demande parfois de l'aide à l'autre, ce sont des pôles distincts qui évitent de se côtoyer.

[POLICE]

constable (6/6) sergeant (4/4) inspector (3/3) chief inspector (2/2) superintendent (2/2) chief superintendent (1/1)

[BRIGADE]

constable (5/5) sergeant (4/4) inspector (3/3) chief inspector (1/3) ; réservés. superintendent (2/2) chief superintendent (2/2) crime commissioner (1/1) ; réservé.

#forum rpg #furies #mythologie #peaky blinders #projet #rpg #rpg francophone #rpg français #sur nos cendres #the gentlemen #annexes

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scotianostra · 1 year

Text

On March 16th 1309 King Robert the Bruce convened his first parliament, at St Andrews.

After the Declaration of the Clergy in February the King was starting to establish himself as the recognised Monarch of Scotland, this was a significant point in his reign.

By 1306, when Robert I seized the throne, there might have been some expectation that the prominent role for the community of the realm in the government of the kingdom that had arisen since 1286 would continue. Yet no king voluntarily accepts limits upon his powers, and Robert I restored royal authority, removing the ability of the community to play a significant role in the formulation of parliamentary acts. The king used the rhetoric of community and parliamentary authority that had evolved since 1286 to give his actions a façade of broad support that they often did not have. Parliament became a tool for creating documents designed to validate and augment the king’s authority by the public display of support for his kingship.

I’ve said it before, most recently with the post in February on the Declaration of the Clergy, these were tools used to send a message to England that the Scots were functioning normally, propaganda tools. The same tools are still being used nowadays, only in a modern way, you just have to look Ukraine and President Zelenskyy, with his daily updates and speaking at other countries parliaments via video links, he is sending out a message to the Russians that Ukraine is still functioning, much in the same way Scotland let other countries know that we continued to repel the English Usurpers, Edward I’s death two years before must have been encouraging for Bruce, Longshanks son was certainly not a warrior like his father. The most famous piece of propaganda we sent out was The Declaration of Arbroath in 1320, although the first of note from Scotland was The Lübeck letter in 1297.

The Bruce was still trying to unite the Scots against their common enemy, the meeting of parliament, therefore, was a useful means of engineering declarations of support for the king, or of manipulating collective decision-making. At this time, the Scottish magnates sent a letter to King Philip IV of France in response to his request for assistance in a crusade. The Scots replied expressing their support for Bruce as king, reminding Philip of Scotland’s devastation by war, and promised help when peace was achieved.

The letter reads:

“Letters: by the magnates of Scotland to Philip IV, king of France.

To the most Christian and triumphant prince and reverend lord the lord Philip [IV] by the grace of God illustrious king of the French, William, earl of Ross, Malcolm, earl of Lennox, William, [earl of Suther]land, and the communities of the earldoms of Fife, Menteith, Mar, Buchan and Caithness, the heirs of which are in ward, likewise the communities of all the other earldoms of the kingdom of Scotland [except]† [D]unbar; Edward de Bruce, lord of Galloway, James the steward of Scotland, Alexander de Argyll, Donald de Islay, John de Menteith, Hugh, the son and heir of the earl [of Ross]†, Gilbert de Hay, constable of Scotland, Robert de Keith, marischal of Scotland, Thomas Randolph, lord of Nithsdale, James, lord of Douglas, Alexander de Lindsay, Alexander de [Fraser], [William] Wiseman, David de Barclay, Robert Boyd, barons; and also all of Argyll and the Hebrides and the inhabitants of all the kingdom of Scotland recognising the fealty of the lord Robert by the grace of God king of Scotland, all [… … ….] Your credence having been revealed to us in writing, and having been fully understood [by us], in the full parliament of our lord the king solemnly held not long ago at the city of St Andrews, impressed upon our minds the joyfulness of [your] devot[ion] [… … ….] For we conclude that your majesty’s mind is devoutly disposed to take on the business of the Holy Land, to prosecute which all followers of the Christian faith justly ought to strive and with humble devotion incline their hearts [… … …,] we saw that it was contained [in your letter] that your royal grace considers and calls to mind the treaties between the kingdoms of France and Scotland, made long ago and confirmed; also the losses, harms and injuries which the inhabitants of the kingdom [… … …] have suffered in many ways hitherto. The particular and special affection which, in that credence, you say you have towards the person of our lord Robert by the grace of God king [of Scots … …] [whom] justice and truth and the grace of the King of Kings has raised up as our prince and leader, cheers our hearts above all else. We therefore noting, with heartfelt feelings, the aforesaid, as we are bound in duty to do [… … …] [?commend] your right royal devotion towards the business of the Holy Land, and for the affection which you have towards our lord the king, and we return thanks as best we can to your majesty for restoring the liberties and rights of the kingdom of Scotland, praying to God that ‘by the bowels of mercy of Jesus Christ’ that you may bring to fulfilment the devout purpose which you have conceived in your mind, trough our Lord’s inspiration in relation to the aforesaid, with holy desire, and efficacious eagerness and a safe outcome. May your royal majesty deign to take note, with pious mind, that in the exaltation of Christian princes the name of Christ is extolled and the Catholic faith strengthened. If, therefore, the standing of our lord [the king whom] we say unanimously is [… … …], is exalted and the kingdom of Scotland returns to its former free condition, the tempests of war having been quelled and secure peace having been granted, then your royal highness will be able to have as supporters to achieve the end of your desire, the service of God, and to come to your help, not only our lord the king aforesaid, but also the inhabitants of his kingdom as best they are able. And as [evidence of] the aforesaid things [… …] clearly these letters sealed by our seals were commanded to be sent patent to your highness. Written and given at the city of St Andrews in Scotland 16 March 1308 [1309] and in the third year of our lord King Robert’s [reign].

I know it’s not an easy read, but I have taken this straight from the web page of The Records of the Parliament of Scotland here https://www.rps.ac.uk/trans/1309/2 . Check the side bar for more records from 1308, when an assembly was held and William, earl of Ross, recorded his act of homage to Robert I before an assembly of prelates and nobles.

The second photo is a Letter by the magnates of Scotland regarding the right of King Robert I to the Crown of Scotland, 16 March 1309, an extract reads:

… we see it contained that royal gratitude reflects on and brings back to mind the alliances formerly existing and maintained between the kingdoms of France and Scotland and the losses, sufferings and trials which the inhabitants of the kingdom have hitherto so much endured. Our minds are cheered, above all, by the extraordinary and peculiar affection which… you say you have for the person of lord Robert, by the grace of God our lord king, who has been raised up as our leader and prince by right and truth and by the justice and grace of the King of Kings. We therefore… [?commend] your royal devotion for the affairs of the holy land… and for the regard you have towards our lord king, and we return all the thanks we can to your royal majesty for the restoration of the liberties and rights of the kingdom of Scotland.

… If therefore… the kingdom of Scotland [be] restored to its original liberty, the storms of war extinguished, the security of peace granted… your highness may have at power not only our lord the king aforesaid but also the inhabitants of his realm.

#scotland #scottish #st andrews #Parliament #Robert I King of Scots #Robert the Bruce #medieval history

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"INNES HAS A HABIT OF LOSING MONEY," Toronto Star. October 1, 1912. Page 3. --- Second Offence of Dropping Employer's Cash Leads to a Long Term. --- CASES IN POLICE COURT --- Two Men With Two Bags of Potatoes, Which They Say Were Given to Them. --- Though there was little force behind the blow which Thomas Petrie directed at Constable Young's face, Magistrate Denison chose to fine the intent rather than the act when the man came up in the Police Court.

"Was taking his name," Young stated, "when he struck me."

Petrie's two fines, for drunkenness and assault, were a dollar and costs. each, or thirty days, with time to pay.

The Sentences Grow. The sentences of Edward Innes have been somewhat disproportionate. This morning before Magistrate Denison, he admitted that while working as a collector for Joseph McQuilian's liquor store in Queen street west he retained $11.80 from the returns, and offered the defence that if he was given time he would refund the money and have it taken out of his wages.

"I lost it," he suggested.

"It's not the first time he's lost money," Crown Attorney Corley. commented. "A year ago when he was given $400 to buy Exhibition tickets he lost that. His term then was sixty days." Now, for the theft of of the much smaller amount, Innes will go to Central for a much longer term, four months.

Two Bags of Potatoes. Once more Charles Beamish, an aged character well known to the police, is charged with theft. Last night he was taken by Constable Ox-land, who saw him walking away with a bag of potatoes on his shoulder. A few paces behind was Lou Parsons, with a like load. The constable, knowing Beamish, went after the stranger first.

"Parsons dropped his load and ran," Oxland stated, "but I caught them both."

The charge is that the potatoes were stolen from a G.T.R. box car.

"Given to me," declared Beamish, confidently.

"Whom by?"

"Don't know his name."

"Where does he live?" "Don't know."

"Who is the kind man, anyway?" Magistrate Denison demanded, a bit impatiently.

Finally Beamish decided it was either the carmen or an officer of the M.O.H. Department. The couple remain in jail a week until they can give more definite information.

After arresting Mrs. Louisa Fifield as she came out of Eaton's. Detective Wickett want to her home at Prescott avenue, West Toronto, and a large quantity of goods, which the woman is charged with stealing.

When arrested with her 12-year-old daughter Queenie, Mrs. Fifield had an umbrella and six shirt waists which could not be accounted for by sales checks which could not be accounted for.

Ivy, another daughter. aged 15. working at Gillies' factory. 121 Prescott avenue, the police say, has admitted the theft of 11 neck scarfs, 197 neckties, 4 spools of silk, and a spool of brass wire.

The bundle of goods that the police recovered includes ribbons of all recovered in sizes, fancy lace bags, six umbrellas, lace, shirt waists, collars, hat plumes, and numerous small decorative articles. More were recovered this morning but none of the articles have yet been identified as coming from the Eaton Store.

When Mrs. Fifield appeared in Police Court, T. C. Robinette, reserved election and did not obtaining a week's adjournment.

Detective Wickett was with woman most of the morning, but she denies stealing the goods. She came to this country about nine months and ago.

Accused of Burglary Wm. J. Bell is being held in connection with the shopbreaking at 280 Church street on the night of September 14, when the warehouse of the John Sloan Company, wholesale grocers, was broken into and burglarized. Entrance was forced through a rear window, several desks were broken open, and the burglar, whether Bell or another, proved so clever that he found the combination of the be vault. About 260 postage stamps, $28.07 in cash, medals, and a quantity of jewelry was stolen.

Bell was placed under arrest on King street by Detective Mitchell in pawnshop, where it is alleged he was attempting to dispose of jewelry which, the police say, corresponded to the stolen articles.

Bell was remanded a week without bail.

A Real Estate Deal. "If you can't do business better than that you had better not do it at all. You've been here before. If you come again I'll know better how to deal with you." Those were the comments of Magistrate Denison to William Campbell, a real estate dealer, charged with the theft of $320 from Adam McMillan. There was a conviction, with a remand till called upon.

McMillan said that he bought a lot in Brandon for $320, and that when was fully paid for Campbell kept putting him off for several weeks and never furnished the deed.

Campbell's defence was that he had purchased a group of lots and that he hadn't fully paid for them to obtain the deeds himself.

"Carrying them on McMillan's money," the magistrate commented. "That is no way to do business. But you'll be remanded till called on." Campbell will now furnish the deed.

Back to Blue Grass Land. Hyde Nelson, colored, declares he will go back to his Kentucky home, and Robert Beatty is short $5. Beatty said that ten days ago he handed the colored man the amount at the Woodbine, to put on a "sure thing" which really won.

"And I never got my winnings," was the complaint.

As Nelson was positive he passed the money along to a third person who misplaced it, the ten days already spent in jail seemed enough, that is, if he keeps nis promise to get town.

Chinese Liquor. "Ing Kopy" was the plain English lettering on a carafe of Chinese wine which was seized upon the the premises of Ing Ding at 192 York street by the police when Inspector Dickson led a search party through the Chinese quarter two weeks ago..The charge was illegal sales and keeping.

"'Ing Kopy' means medicinal wine," explained J. W. Carry, defence counsel. "The proper analysis is printed on the side. That complies with the law."

Not when written in Chinese," Magistrate Denison replied.

Some of the police contended that the while the liquid was labelled "Ing Kopy," it was in reality only whisky colored red. As a test, the magistrate had whiffed a little from a glass, thought it was stronger than rose wise, and demanded an analysis. Ding was accordingly allowed a week's remand.

Lee Dun of 184 York street, was to have sold whitish stuff rice wine, for which his fine was $100 and costs or 3 months.

A Real Estate Deal After several remands, John Hanley, real estate agent, was convicted of false pretences. The complainant was John Bain, who stated he placed Welland and Port McNicol lots in Hanley hands for sale.

"He told me he had a buyer," Bain explained, "so I gave him $35 commission. Then he turned in a $100 check from a bogus buyer, and I couldn't get the money."

The court allowed Hanley three weeks remand to produce this buyer, but when he still failed to do so this morning, he was sent to to jail for 20 days.

John A. Brooker, of 54 Margueretta street, was fined $100 and costs for illegal liquor sales. The case has been on the books since July 20.

#toronto #police court #assaulting a police officer #drunk and disorderly #real estate scam #swindlers #illegal possession of alcohol #chinese canadians #vagrancy #shoplifters #women in the toils #fines and costs #fines or jail #sentenced to prison #central prison #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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