Pistol in hand, for precaution’s sake, you carried out your search quickly and efficiently. You had split up to search the main floor, you insisting that Sebastian stayed with and protected Ciel, given that you were something of an old hand at this. Not so much as a scrap of paper to be used as evidence. The warehouse was empty when you got there no smuggled goods, no people who were smuggling them. But your downfall came in not realising they had their own network of eyes and ears. It was perfect really - they could take a boat by night to pick up and drop off their goods and nobody was any the wiser. Their current storage unit was hidden in an abandoned warehouse at the dodgy end of the Thames, nestled between two disused docks. The circle dared not let them escape, lest they hand over any information to the authorities and disrupt the entire ongoing operation. The people being murdered were those who had tried to escape from the ring, bound only to it by their predecessors’ decisions to join it. The people you were chasing were a notorious circle of smugglers who excelled at their craft and whose organisation had been doing so for the last century. “We’re here for information about your most recent guests, the police are refusing to hand anything over.” After a good twenty minutes of trying to make him laugh, Sebastian finally succeeded and you were once again on your way, this time with both a lead and destination in mind. Your reaction was enough to make him giggle, which Ciel simply tutted at. As it turned out, you would be the one to almost collapse in terror when the coffin propped up on the wall behind you slowly swung open, revealing someone dressed as though he were attending a funeral standing inside it.
“Undertaker, are you here?” He called, glancing around for the man in question. The room was so dark you could hardly see anything, but the earl didn’t seem concerned. Sebastian held open the door for you both to enter and you thanked him as you walked through, ignoring the chill curling up your spine at the creaking of the old hinges. You raised a questioning eyebrow at Ciel, who dismissed your confusion with a light wave of his hand. There is only one other person I know who will help us with this.” A few minutes later, you were standing in front of an out-of-the-way shop, the sign of which loudly proclaimed ‘Undertaker’. “They appear to have lost their faith in me and as such are using it as an excuse to not cooperate. “The authorities aren’t going to help us with this,” Ciel informed you gravely. The police force had really tightened their ranks around this case and were not giving the earl any more than the bare minimum of information, despite his position as the Queen’s Guard Dog. A recent string of murders were proving more trouble than they were worth and all you kept coming across were dead ends. “So where are we going now?” You were walking next to Ciel through the cobbled streets of London, Sebastian half a step behind.
Because Grell had already been through so much, had barely managed to claw himself back from the edge of despair and had continued doing so through finding you - you couldn’t possibly go now. This was some sort of mistake, right? Had to be. How could this possibly happen? Grell’s mouth was dry, his fingers gripping the dreaded black notebook so hard his knuckles were starting to turn white. ❗️Warnings aaaaangst, all the way through. Links to happy Grell stories in my masterlist 😂 Also, male pronouns for Grell as requested and a gender neutral reader. Hello again!! You said unhappy and you sure have got it! Seriously though, this is completely different to what I normally write and if anyone’s feeling at all bad about themselves, please don’t read this.
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