The Shimmering Wraith (Lockwood and Co. Fanfic)

Betrayal- 5.

                Number 35 Portland Row was a white-fronted residence of four floors, with faded green shutters and pink flowers in the window boxes. Even more than its neighbours it had a faint air dilapidation. Every surface looked as if it needed a lick of paint, or possibly just a clean. A small wooden sign clamped to the outside of the railing read:

                               A. J. LOCKWOOD & CO., INVESTIGATORS.

                               AFTER DARK, RING BELL AND WAIT BEYOND THE

                                                                      IRON LINE.

                That was what had greeted me when I first arrived at 35 Portland Row, and now it looked no different. Stepping over broken tiles as I approached the front door, a sheaf of papers under one arm, I could only wish things would have happened differently. The first time I had ignored the bell and knocked on the door before standing behind the iron line. But this time I stepped confidently forward and turned the handle, easing the door open a crack. This time 35 Portland Row looked like home.

                "George?" I called softly as I shut the door behind me. The lights were off and the corridor was dark, a faint splash of light coming in from the open door of the kitchen. I headed in that direction just as George's messy blonde mop came into view, his glasses pressed close to his bulbous eyes, making them appear even more grotesque than usual.

                "Lucy!" he exclaimed, a smile breaking out upon his face. "Where are your bags? Do you want some help carrying you-"

                "I'm not coming home yet," I said, watching his smile diminish just a little. He gave a shrug, though the light had died from his eyes.

                "Well, it's a start I suppose. I've got doughnuts in the kitchen, though er- there might not be any left."

                "You didn't eat them all on your own, did you?"

                "Er- no. They seem to be the only food-stuff Lockwood will touch these days. Well, the green ones anyway."

                "The green ones? But he usually eats blue. Green are my favourite- oh. I see. Is it that bad?"

                "You saw him the other day Luce."

                "After you set it up," I said, shooting him a glare. The kitchen door was half-open and I nudged it with my toe. It swung open slowly, revealing Lockwood sprawled in a chair, his feet up on the table, a green doughnut in one hand. He was studying it, the purple bags under his eyes more like bruises, his clothes hanging loosely from his shoulders. His skin was so white it was almost translucent, his dark hair sticking out at all angles as though he'd stuck a fork in a light socket.