The MCR Bath branch was teeming with officers, thanks to the new rogue in town there was a commotion on every level. A detective stormed into the office as if she owned the place despite no one knowing who she was. She made a beeline towards the Chief’s office, she was followed by an older man that was quite the opposite of her. He was visibly nervous and avoided eye contact and any kind of interaction with the whole station.

“Hello, you must be Detective Inspector Watson.”

“Nice to meet you Chief Woodgate. This is my assistant, Spencer Field,” she said, closing the door behind her as she entered the medium-sized office. Chief Woodgate was sitting behind a desk that looked too small for him, there were no traces of a smile on his face.

“You’ve come here to hijack the investigation?” he said, venomously.

“I’m here to aid it. I’m sure you’ve heard from my superiors who I am,” she said without batting an eye.

She had received the same treatment in almost every city branch she’d been to. However, she had followed this rogue from Reading to Newcastle and back which was a level of commitment she had not thought she was capable of and meant she was beyond giving up.

“You’re also late,” said the Chief, still unimpressed.

“Indeed, I had thought the rogue was heading towards Bristol, so I traveled there prematurely.”

“Hardly fills me with confidence,” the Chief muttered.

“Sir, I am not here to prove myself, I am here to do my job,” Watson said with only the bare minimum amount of respect in her tone.

The man grumbled but knowing he had no choice, eventually let her in on the investigation. He handed over what they had, which was very little, and informed the previous detective in charge that they were no longer on the case.

Watson was given a desk in the Bath branch building but chose to leave anyway, the atmosphere was not exactly friendly after she had come in and robbed another officer of their case. She sighed and shuffled through their papers inside a hotel, which contained nothing that she did not already know.

“Watson, it’s been 3 months since we found anything new.”

“Is that a new record?” she asked lying back in a hotel chair, they had met in the lobby to read the case files.

“I don’t believe so, I think we managed to go 4 last year,” he sighed and leaned back as well, throwing the papers he had in his hand in a dramatic fashion onto the small table they had been working on top of.

“Oh, that was when we found the link to Carter.”

“Indeed, a continuously strange religion, the more I look into it the more I realise how little I know.”

“And yet…”

“Of course, the investigation was fruitless, so maybe it’s not Carter related at all?” he asked speculatively, he was sure they were involved somehow as well.

“Assuming that every owner of the tattoo being a Carter practitioner is a coincidence is already difficult. But you’re right, maybe assume there is no link, what could the angel tattoos represent.”

“A one-winged angel. The fall from grace.”

“An angel that has lost its right to reside in heaven.”

“Every time I think about it, I can’t help but think about the connotations,” he said with a shudder.

“For them to be the target of a serial murderer and still not request help from the police,” she said whilst shaking her head. The sentence was something she had said a great many times in many ways. “I’m going to get something to eat Spencer, want to come?” she asked despite knowing the answer.

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“No, thank you,” he replied as she was already out the door.

It had been two years since she encountered the first murder in Reading and only four since she became an MCR officer. She was now twenty-six and the closest friend she had was Spencer – A nervous wreck of a man who was around ten years her senior-and so married to his job a drink was much too much fun for him.

Watson walked away from the hotel, the cobbly road was no longer covered in ice but it was still freezing cold. She knew no one here and after arriving in Bath that day she had done nothing but work. Her neglected stomach growled at her. She stifled a smirk and walked down the road, she knew nothing about Bath, so she had to rely on her well-traveled eyes to find a decent looking place to eat.

Her hotel was two streets from the city centre, so she walked towards that area. She had spent the whole day there thanks to the crime scene which was cleared now. She had spotted a pub that seemed decent enough whilst they were transporting the heavily burned body from the alcove, they had found it in, so she set her sights on that.

As she headed towards the crossroad that the pub resided on, she passed a shop that caught her eye. ‘The Treasury’ it read. She smiled internally, a bit of a pompous name she thought but snuck a look in through the window anyway.

What she saw intrigued her but with the shop being closed there was not much she could do but come again another day. She brought her face away from the window where her breath had steamed the glass. She wiped it away and was about to carry on walking before she heard the door open.

“I feel bad for closing now,” a voice chuckled from her left. She turned her head and saw a man with the most strikingly blue hair she’d ever seen, it managed to stand out despite being a dark winter evening. She could not help but stare. Beau was never sure what to do in these situations, so he just waited it out.

“I’m sorry!” spluttered a startled Watson, “that’s quite a colour.”

“So I’ve been told…” he said with a smile.

“You must be so tired of that reaction,” she chuckled.

“I usually try to hide it,” he said. She walked a little closer so that they could continue the conversation without raising their voices. The stranger seemed a little taken aback though.

“Are you going out to eat?” she asked.

“I am,” he replied. “Although if you want to have a look in my shop I would not mind, as long as you buy something.”

“I’ll come to the shop another day… Are you eating alone?”

“That was the plan,” he nodded.

“Thing is, I’m new to the area, do you think I could tag along? I can pay for your meal as thanks.”

“Actually,” he began as he scratched the back of his head with slight embarrassment. “I’m new to the area too. How about we look together, and I’ll buy my own meal.”

It’s settled then!” she exclaimed. She began to walk again in the direction of the nice-looking pub, this time with a stranger by her side.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Beau.”

“Likewise, I’m Ella.” They shook hands then strolled onwards. They crossed the road to the pub, Watson was delighted that she could spend an evening with someone.

“Lager for the both of us please,” Watson said to the bartender.

“Actually, I’ll just have water please,” Beau interrupted.

The bartender poured their drinks and left. “Don’t drink?” Watson asked as they sat down at a table.

“Actually no, not entirely a fan of it.”

“Young man like you, what have you got to worry about?” she asked with a smile.

“I’ve got my circumstances,” laughed Beau in reply. Watson sipped at her beer, she had quite a curious nature but decided to leave it at that, he was a stranger.

“You’re the first person I’ve been out to dinner with in a long time,” she said.

“Actually, me too, it’s been a while,” he replied. Watson’s beer glass slowly emptied, and their food eventually arrived. It was good enough to warrant a tip that Watson covered. She stumbled out laughing. Her lack of fun recently had caused her to go a little overboard with the drinks. Beau decided it best he accompany her to her hotel.

“Beau, do you live alone?”

“I do,” he replied.

“Got no one to spend the night with?” she asked teasingly. “What are you turning red for?” she poked him on the cheek.

“I’m cold!” he said defensively. Watson giggled as she left him standing on the cold street, Beau wandered home with his tail between his legs. Not entirely sure how he managed to get himself caught up in a dinner date with the MCR officer that had chased him across the country.

He rushed home as there was information he needed to capitalise on, and the members of Carter’s elite weren’t going to wait around for him to arrive. He threw open the door to his shop and rushed up the stairs, his dinner had gone on far too long because he lacked an excuse to leave early and Watson had managed to stomach much more alcohol than he was expecting.

His tardiness may have catastrophic consequences considering he had been following this lead since Birmingham. A lot of work had gone into this that included staying off Carter’s radar whilst gathering vital information.

He was out again within minutes with a different set of clothes, a black, hooded cape that finished at his waist flowed behind him as he ran towards the location of the meeting, he had pried out of the fat man he had skewered in the alley.

It was very late, there was no noise at this time, even the rowdiest pubs were shut for the night and Beau was glad for it, he much preferred to do things silently.