Trapped in Black Butler || Sebastian X Reader

XXII

"Why must she come along?" Madam Red asked with a pedicured finger in your direction.

Ciel, busy being redressed in his coat and hat, responded incredulously, "Why should she not?"

Red shared a look with Sebastian, the way one would with a brat's parent, "Because, my dear boy, she is a maid. What business does a maid have in observing a crime scene?"

Said dear boy looked back at his aunt and shrugged, "She will do as I tell her. I am telling her to come along."

Trying to diffuse the tension, Lau spoke up, "Is the saying not 'the more the merrier'?

The three of them piled into the carriage before Sebastian helped you into the shotgun seat. Grell stood on the foot pedals at the back of the carriage, holding on to the rails with whitened knuckles as the stagecoach lurched forward.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

"Clear the area! No civilian access through this way- 'ey- you! I said t'get away from there!" You could hear through the mumbling crowd. Sebastian's presence alone was enough to clear a path through the throng of onlookers, all grace and intention behind each step.

A bumbling cop pushed his way into the path of the demon, shrinking back a little in his resolve before puffing out his chest, "Wha- 'ey I jus'said ta'stay back-"

Sebastian levelled him with a flat glare, turning to present his master who emerged from behind him.

"Having trouble over here, newbie?" A tall gentleman, with a lacklustre copper moustache that curled into his lip, appeared before the group.

The stranger looked down at Ciel, the tilt of his head casting a shadow under the brim of his hat, his appearance stern, "A crime scene is not a playground. I suggest you turn the other way."

Without room for pause, the young Earl puts a hand up, silencing the man, "I'm here to inspect the body."

"The body?" The stranger squinted, his eyebrows knitted together in a look that could be construed as concern, "Surely you jest, boy."

"Abberline," came a voice from the depths of the alley and when you looked, it was a familiar face. "Well, if it isn't Lord Phantomhive," Arthur Randall began, stepping out from the shadows with a scowl on both his face and his voice, "what are you doing here." It came as less of a question and more a sarcastic remark. He knew quite well what the lot of you were there for and, given his tone, was not happy about it.

As interesting as a full grown man's disdain for a child was, you found yourself staring back at the other two gentlemen who had appeared before. You were certain that the younger of the two was Abberline, the detective that would appear a few times during the series, the older man was probably just some background character.

Abberline ran off to control the crowd again and so your focus returned to the conversation, "You know who sent me, of course." Ciel smirked as he produced that letter with the Queen's seal. Arthur's frown deepened and his jaw clenched.

The other man looked to his superior then back at Ciel who's hand was outstretched, "Abberline, was it?" He wasn't looking for an answer, "Hand me those documents in your pocket." He was commanding cooperation.

But he was wrong, that wasn't Abberline. It couldn't be, could it?

Arthur huffed and nodded, "Give him the papers, Abberline." he urged reluctantly.

Wait, you were wrong? This near 50 year old looking man was the same Abberline that appeared in the show? Sure, the dull copper hair was correct but he was old, far older than he was in black butler.