The Best (Worst) Partners In London

Prologue

This, Nina believes, is the first time she has ever set foot in the palace; and immediately, she finds her eyes drawn to the young ladies sauntering about in their fashions, either donned in thick, tiered gowns or lighter, but no less fashionable frocks. Oh, how she wishes she could take these ladies as her clients! Coming into one of the many broad, beautifully decorated drawing rooms of the palace, Nina is even more overcome.

Surrounded by all of this beauty, she internally laments the sole purpose for her being here, which rams itself straight into the forefront of her mind when met with the sight of three core figures: Fred Abberline, Ciel Phantomhive, and Phantomhive's shadow (she declines to address him unless she absolutely must.) The man accompanying her, a Mister Arthur Conan Doyle, looks tentatively between the figures, exchanging nods with Abberline and a few looks with Phantomhive and the butler.

"I apologize for the haste with which I brought you here, Miss Hopkins, but you will soon understand the urgency of the matter." Doyle prefaces, looking over his shoulder at Nina. She had been given very few details as to why she was urged to the palace of all places, only that it was a pressing matter, and that she was needed. She had been reluctant, of course, but had ultimately agreed to follow through.

"I suspect that my attendance is in relation to the pastry shop in London?" She ganders, to which she receives a solemn nod from both Doyle and the detective. Not even a fortnight ago, she had met Doyle via his younger sister, Connie Doyle, as she had - had an appointment with her. Throughout the appointment, she had found Doyle to be a tolerable bloke, and thus engaged in idle chatter with him.

~

"Aaah!! It's been far too long!" Nina exclaims, arms coiling around Connie with warmth and familiarity. "Have you found a new tailor? Have I been replaced with someone younger? Prettier?" She theatrically jests, eliciting a laugh from the other woman. When the two separate, Connie gestures to the slightly older man behind her.

"This is my brother, Arthur. I've been residing with him as of late, and he lives a little ways away from London nowadays." She explains. Nina is, expectedly, not nearly as enthusiastic as she had been previously. "And unfortunately, I must disappoint you once more, as I've a few more errands to run today ... Though I do require some help with a few gowns."

"You come after so long, and then make your appearance brief? How torturous of you!"

"I will not leave you entirely to your own devices ... I brought Arthur merely to keep you company whilst I handle my obligations." Nina opens her mouth to object, but is halted by Connie. "I know you seldom tolerate the likes of gentlemen, but I assure you that my borther is no nuisance." She soothes, hand resting kindly on Nina's shoulder. Nina pouts, but relents.

She takes a moment to look over the man just beyond Connie. He appears stiff and reserved, she notes. Perhaps he will be fine, she reasons, in spite of her own dissatisfaction. "Fine, fine, you go handle your errands." She sighs.

Happily, Arthur is a decent lad, Nina finds. He's initially sparse with his words, but eventually grows comfortable enough to initiate more natural conversation that extends past introductions.

"How do you occupy your time?" Nina asks from where she is crouched ahead of one of Connie's frocks, which had been in dire need of tailoring and light repairs.

"I write, primarily. However, outside of that, I find myself very deeply interested in investigative matters." He answers from a few feet away, looking upon some of Nina's works and sketches.