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Crossing Lines

thatscaptaintoyou:

man-with-the-bluebox:

The Doctor’s eyes shifted back watching Jack. He came over, looking him in the eyes. “Knowledge of what? Jack.. you’re no killer. No mass murderer. Even back in your time stream to now. You didn’t have it in you to sit there and tear a women apart for over two hours. So stop before you continue…” The Doctor patted his cheek lightly before turning again and collecting a few articles and pictures from the boards in the office room, stuffing them into the box as well. 

“Get the address for the Inn. The officers were ashamed enough to get us a room. A room. Meaning singular. ” The Doctor scowled, changing the subject. He hoped this wasn’t one of those hotels where people paid by the hour. Maybe a decent room, with a decent bed, and maybe a bathtub. A hot bath and a warm bed seemed almost too good at the moment. Maybe he’d sleep a year. No, they had work to do. Work to finish before he could slow down and relax. 

The Doctor straightened his bow-tie and put on a grin, hiding those tired eyes of his with a smile. “We can work from the room. Less worry about you calling me Smith. And we can come up with how we’re going to catch him. Because anticipating another attack and chasing him down isn’t my style. Let’s get to him before he gets to another girl, yeah?” The Doctor asked, glancing back over his shoulder at Jack once more.  

It warmed him to know what the Doctor thought of him. Tearing into a woman for two hours? No. Tearing into an alien life-form for information and the promises to never return? Yes. Though that wouldn’t come for another few years under the threat of his own life being nothing but reviving and dying over and over for as long as Torchwood stood. Jack gave a half hearted smile when his cheek was patted.

His long fingers pulled the slip of paper from his pant pocket, holding it between his index and middle finger. “I already have the address.” More of the usual Jack shined through, “what’s the matter? Scared of sharing a room with me?” He gave a teasing smile before feigning innocence. “I’ll be on my best behaviour.” He himself could do with with a hot bath, though sleep was pretty much out of the equation for sometime with red still occasionally tinting the edges of his own being.

“Oh, me calling you Smith? Like you’re doing great calling me James.” He grinned a little more, trying to shove away the darkness from him like a heavy cloak he didn’t want. Jack put his hands back into his greatcoat as he watched the Doctor begin to walk away. He loved this man, he really did. Such a flare for dramatics, even among friends. Not that Jack was even the slightest bit different. “Right behind you.” Jack straightened up and followed the Doctor out to the cab, hoping the police had at least given the poor fellow a generous tip.

He passed the cabbie the slip of paper before getting into the carriage, doing his best not to show too much of his face. Jack couldn’t remember every detail, but the less people saw him the less he could interfere with his own timeline.

The Doctor was half asleep by the the time the carriage pulled up to the Inn. His head against the glass and snoring softy. When the carriage lurched to a stop he straightened up and looked around, blinking, trying to look alert. “Huh? Wuh, I’m up.” He said looking around, eyes stretched wide for a moment before he yawned and rubbed his eyes. “We’re there, yeah?” He asked, looking over to Jack before peeking out the window. Indeed they were there. The Inn didn’t seem too bad, in comparison to the majority of them in this time period. 

The Doctor climbed out of the carriage, using the word climbed very loosely, since it was more of an awkward stumble. He turned and grabbed the box once firmly on his feet and waited of Jack in the cool autumn London air. The cold proving to clear the timelord’s head more. The Doctor sighed and started for the front to get the keys for the room. He had memorized the name the resurvation was under and hardly needed Jack for that. He also checked out the others staying at the same Inn first. Nor one exceedingly suspicious caught his eyes so he quickly met Jack outside again.
Tossing the keys to Jack with one hand he motioned the taller man to follow him up  the stairs. 

Crossing Lines

thatscaptaintoyou:

man-with-the-bluebox:

“That’s why he strangled them rather then cut their throats from the very beginning. Less spray onto the surroundings and himself. That and the victim was alive during most of this torture. ” The Doctor closed the last file, putting the four that seemed to hit the scheme of things into a box. He’d borrow these when they went to their room at the Inn. He rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck. He was groping around in blackness trying to find a light. A forgotten fact. His near perfect memory was failing him. What was he missing.. Something… Something that would become very important and very soon. 

The Doctor tucked the box under his arm and looked outside, peeking out the rather filthy window. There was a cab waiting outside for them. At least the officers had made that arrangement as well. Even though they seemed a tad incompetent otherwise. But they were young and human. Humans make mistakes. While the Doctor couldn’t afford to make anymore. He checked the time. It was nearing 22:45. It was getting late. Not that the Doctor needed to sleep. Well, he did but he often didn’t.  And he was feeling a few of the effects of sleep deprivation. Though no one needed to know that either…

He looked back to Jack. Poor Jack, he had promised him an adventure and now here they were, in a time he had been in before. A place he had been before. Human problems. It was nearly impossible to save the humans from themselves. It’s not as though he could stop any of this mess. It was clearly documented in the future… Wait a moment, back up. Just hold on a second. Jack! How could he have not noticed before! Jack had lived through this time period! Surely he must know something…Then why hadn’t he spoken of it? Something was off. And The Doctor scolded himself for not noticing it earlier. He had started to realize facts he’d over looked. But he’d wait a bit longer. He’d give Jack the benefit of the doubt. 

“Why would he do that… ” The Doctor said aloud, remarking on a case detail. What point was there? “He took the last girl’s uterus. I mean generally murder cases such as these have some sort of sexual basis. The killer gets his kicks from doing this, the killer has a lot of pent up rage toward woman for some misdeed. This lacks all those basic elements. His choice in victims seems to be that they’re the easiest to lead away. You know, since they were… Anyway! That still doesn’t answer the question! I mean in Chicago, World’s Fair, a man killed hundreds of women and sold their skeletons to medical research facilities. But why on Earth would he take all that time to remove one organ? Clearly he knew what he was doing… But why that one?” The Doctor rambled on, mostly to himself. If someone had an answer to his questions he’d listen, but mostly he was trying to get thinking trying to form a sort of connection… But he wasn’t getting anywhere. The cases and wounds, and death of the victims, and causes of death, were so sporadic… It seems no connection could be found. 

As the Doctor rambled, Jack discreetly looked at his hands again. No blood. It still came as a surprise to him. What frustrated him was that he didn’t know why he was constantly checking to make sure there was no blood. He closed his hands into fists and pushed them into the pockets of his greatcoat. It was hard to look at the Doctor, he felt the burn in his chest that was shame. He had done so much wrong and not enough good.

“Because it is the very symbol of a woman.” He clarified, hardly any emotion fluctuating his voice. “Or just because he could. Go for the impact on the police.” Jack was slightly uncomfortable talking about much of anything, let alone personal matters within a police station. Though he supposed with the Doctor asking them to leave them in privacy they might actually have the decency to stay away from eavesdropping. Well, the single police officer that was left was probably asleep anyway.

Yet he was incredibly hesitant of saying anything about himself. Jack had already asked the Doctor not to pry and so far he was doing as he had asked. But if there was the slightest chance, the possibility that he was here and these murders happened, then he should speak up. So why couldn’t he open his mouth and just say, hey I know how to do these things and yeah I know I’m a terrible person and you’ll hate me forever. That was exactly his problem right there. He didn’t want to lose what little trust he felt he had gained back, not to mention the Doctor also knew how he felt now.

This was getting too complicated. Jack preferred his surface self to be the one people believed in. He didn’t like delving back into the past.

“Doctor. I,” he hesitated and stayed stationary while steeling himself to speak up. If the Doctor was going to abandon him, it might as well be because he spoke up. “I have the knowledge.” Jack winced, just waiting for the look of disgust or horror.

“Even though it is completely impossible, seeing as I was getting to know Alex. Alexander Bell.” Jack clarified which Alex he ‘was getting to know’. One would be surprised how many in this century were actually not what they seemed, sexually. It was quite fun to sneak out or to pretend to be sport friends.

The Doctor’s eyes shifted back watching Jack. He came over, looking him in the eyes. “Knowledge of what? Jack.. you’re no killer. No mass murderer. Even back in your time stream to now. You didn’t have it in you to sit there and tear a women apart for over two hours. So stop before you continue…” The Doctor patted his cheek lightly before turning again and collecting a few articles and pictures from the boards in the office room, stuffing them into the box as well. 

"Get the address for the Inn. The officers were ashamed enough to get us a room. A room. Meaning singular. " The Doctor scowled, changing the subject. He hoped this wasn’t one of those hotels where people paid by the hour. Maybe a decent room, with a decent bed, and maybe a bathtub. A hot bath and a warm bed seemed almost too good at the moment. Maybe he’d sleep a year. No, they had work to do. Work to finish before he could slow down and relax. 

The Doctor straightened his bow-tie and put on a grin, hiding those tired eyes of his with a smile. “We can work from the room. Less worry about you calling me Smith. And we can come up with how we’re going to catch him. Because anticipating another attack and chasing him down isn’t my style. Let’s get to him before he gets to another girl, yeah?” The Doctor asked, glancing back over his shoulder at Jack once more.  

Crossing Lines

thatscaptaintoyou:

man-with-the-bluebox:

“The thing is the method of operation keeps changing. Getting more violent and more… efficient with each new victim…” The Doctor said, going through the eight cases listed in the mix. He scowled and tossed two files aside. Those were clearly not linked in anyway. He then took the remaining five and ordered them by the dates. No wait.. That didn’t belong either. He tossed another aside. Four.  Four files. Four dead women that fit into his schema. His stomach turned at how systematically he was organizing this data. 

“Millwood was the first. The attack was in February. She lived for a month afterwards… The wounds weren’t severe. Followed by Tabram. She was found with… thirty-nine wounds? Twenty-one of which hit organs. Much more gory.” The Doctor paused looking through the next file again. He bit his lip. “Nichols was third.  The attacker sliced her throat down to the vertebrae. Five or Six cuts through her stomach and abdomen… And last and most recent is Chapman.” The Doctor gagged at the photo. He shut his eyes and breathed deep. “She was disemboweled. Some organs still missing… But these most recent two seem to be done with someone with a lot more anatomical knowledge and time on their hands. The first two seemed more angry…” The Doctor said, sitting down on the desk again…

The Doctor sighed, he was thinking about a hundred billion miles a minute.  But the thing was, rather than focusing on the cases, he was trying to determine why his TARDIS had brought him here. There had to be a reason. He could only sit back and play the game so long. But if this was just a.. humans killing humans thing. Then what was he supposed to do? This had all happened in the past. As it was supposed to thus far. Maybe Jack and the Doctor were following the wrong trail? Maybe this mess was all a coincidence. There had to be something else going on here! Didn’t there? 

While the Doctor’s stomach turned at seeing the photos, Jack felt oddly desensitized to it all. There was really nothing that he felt that he could see and still want to hurl. He wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing. Rather then interrupt the Doctor as he talked out the case, Jack rested a hand on his back comfortingly. Looking at the pictures, he felt nothing but calculations. Most people would be freaked out about that, but after so many years of living as he did there was an incredibly amount of darkness in him that it wasn’t surprising.

Not to mention that he knew exactly how to inflict that much pain. There was a reason he was the go to guy for certain things at first when he was forced into Torchwood. Another mark on his soul that he would never voice to the Doctor. He did his best not to show any of his worry outwardly as he searched his long, near perfect memory for anything possible hint that he was involved in this. As far as he knew he was away from this. Jack remembered the lovers he had had, and the daily routines he had fallen into. He did not remember killing anyone.

“If we can help, we should put an end to this.” Jack placed the discarded files back into their boxes, a very slight tremble in his hands. He knew the Doctor had his own marks, but Jack was amazed he himself hadn’t snapped already. Ianto and the Doctor had a lot to do with that and he was thankful. What kind of a person would he be without either one? He didn’t even want to think about it.

He closed the box of discarded cases before turning back to the Doctor, doing his best to conceal his darker thoughts. “Although it’s probably not recorded, it’s likely most of the damage was done while the woman was still alive. Probably mostly unconscious.” Jack put on a grimace, though he himself felt no reaction towards the idea. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel anything, he was just desensitized to the events.


"That’s why he strangled them rather then cut their throats from the very beginning. Less spray onto the surroundings and himself. That and the victim was alive during most of this torture. " The Doctor closed the last file, putting the four that seemed to hit the scheme of things into a box. He’d borrow these when they went to their room at the Inn. He rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck. He was groping around in blackness trying to find a light. A forgotten fact. His near perfect memory was failing him. What was he missing.. Something… Something that would become very important and very soon. 

The Doctor tucked the box under his arm and looked outside, peeking out the rather filthy window. There was a cab waiting outside for them. At least the officers had made that arrangement as well. Even though they seemed a tad incompetent otherwise. But they were young and human. Humans make mistakes. While the Doctor couldn’t afford to make anymore. He checked the time. It was nearing 22:45. It was getting late. Not that the Doctor needed to sleep. Well, he did but he often didn’t.  And he was feeling a few of the effects of sleep deprivation. Though no one needed to know that either…

He looked back to Jack. Poor Jack, he had promised him an adventure and now here they were, in a time he had been in before. A place he had been before. Human problems. It was nearly impossible to save the humans from themselves. It’s not as though he could stop any of this mess. It was clearly documented in the future… Wait a moment, back up. Just hold on a second. Jack! How could he have not noticed before! Jack had lived through this time period! Surely he must know something…Then why hadn’t he spoken of it? Something was off. And The Doctor scolded himself for not noticing it earlier. He had started to realize facts he’d over looked. But he’d wait a bit longer. He’d give Jack the benefit of the doubt. 

"Why would he do that… " The Doctor said aloud, remarking on a case detail. What point was there? "He took the last girl’s uterus. I mean generally murder cases such as these have some sort of sexual basis. The killer gets his kicks from doing this, the killer has a lot of pent up rage toward woman for some misdeed. This lacks all those basic elements. His choice in victims seems to be that they’re the easiest to lead away. You know, since they were… Anyway! That still doesn’t answer the question! I mean in Chicago, World’s Fair, a man killed hundreds of women and sold their skeletons to medical research facilities. But why on Earth would he take all that time to remove one organ? Clearly he knew what he was doing… But why that one?" The Doctor rambled on, mostly to himself. If someone had an answer to his questions he’d listen, but mostly he was trying to get thinking trying to form a sort of connection… But he wasn’t getting anywhere. The cases and wounds, and death of the victims, and causes of death, were so sporadic… It seems no connection could be found. 

Crossing Lines

thatscaptaintoyou:

man-with-the-bluebox:

The Doctor immediately forced them away from motivation. That was somewhere he didn’t want to touch yet. Let the younger man focus on facts first. Feels got jumbled up and didn’t always translate nicely in his brain. He flipped back to the police report, reading over again. “He’s right-handed, obviously so. Which… doesn’t lower our numbers now. It lowers them even less than in the 21st century. Because that whole claiming that your left side was even… Hah, if only they knew that people who wrote with their right hand were left-hemisphere oriented. Uhm… He takes a certain amount of pride in his work. Coming up from behind, strangulation first judging by the bruises, and he lowers them to the ground, carefully. There would have been wounds on the skull if he dropped them…. And that’s where he slits their throat.. the spray would have been a lot more noticed if he hadn’t… Gravity and all that.” The Doctor paused to mull over what he had just said carefully. Some times he just spoke without thinking it through. 

“It would be easier if he was left, it’s hard to fake being right handed.” Jack didn’t move from leaning on the table. He’d looked at what he could and he needed time to think and pick everything apart. Pick it apart like a clock and inspect the way it worked. So many things in life worked the exact same way for him. “I’m right handed.” He mused aloud.

A flash of red passed by his eyes as the Doctor spoke and he blinked it away before looking at his hands to make sure there was no blood on them. Why was he checking his hands? Jack frowned, eyebrows furrowing together as he questioned himself. There was no reason that the Doctor’s words should trigger anything, let alone a psychological reaction. He lowered his hands after a few moments to rest them on the table.

Jack had to moisten his lips before he could talk again, his mouth having gone very dry. “Normally slitting a throat after the person is killed means that they are making sure the job is done. Unless they still have some life in them and he just knocks them unconscious by strangling.”

"The thing is the method of operation keeps changing. Getting more violent and more… efficient with each new victim…" The Doctor said, going through the eight cases listed in the mix. He scowled and tossed two files aside. Those were clearly not linked in anyway. He then took the remaining five and ordered them by the dates. No wait.. That didn’t belong either. He tossed another aside. Four.  Four files. Four dead women that fit into his schema. His stomach turned at how systematically he was organizing this data. 

"Millwood was the first. The attack was in February. She lived for a month afterwards… The wounds weren’t severe. Followed by Tabram. She was found with… thirty-nine wounds? Twenty-one of which hit organs. Much more gory." The Doctor paused looking through the next file again. He bit his lip. " Nichols was third.  The attacker sliced her throat down to the vertebrae. Five or Six cuts through her stomach and abdomen… And last and most recent is Chapman." The Doctor gagged at the photo. He shut his eyes and breathed deep. "She was disemboweled. Some organs still missing… But these most recent two seem to be done with someone with a lot more anatomical knowledge and time on their hands. The first two seemed more angry…" The Doctor said, sitting down on the desk again…

The Doctor sighed, he was thinking about a hundred billion miles a minute.  But the thing was, rather than focusing on the cases, he was trying to determine why his TARDIS had brought him here. There had to be a reason. He could only sit back and play the game so long. But if this was just a.. humans killing humans thing. Then what was he supposed to do? This had all happened in the past. As it was supposed to thus far. Maybe Jack and the Doctor were following the wrong trail? Maybe this mess was all a coincidence. There had to be something else going on here! Didn’t there? 

Crossing Lines

thatscaptaintoyou:

man-with-the-bluebox:

The Doctor went through the files, sitting on the desk of a younger officer who happened to have run off to fetch some tea. He was going through the reports of the bodies, he avoided the pictures all together, focusing instead on the descriptions. But suddenly he was pulled from his trance and his eyes shifted up. “Yes? What is it?” He asked. The Doctor was working analyzing data at almost the same rate he did when he worked for UNIT. And upon being interrupted, he displayed some irritation but it washed away once he was given the change to ramble. 

“Yes I know, no witnesses, no camera footage, no emails or traceable paper trail. Not even finger prints. They’ve got a couple of years on that. Actually, the failure of this case actually pushed toward the use of fingerprinting… But otherwise… Seems we’re not in our specific field. But… I have a friend who’d die for this sort of case.” The Doctor smiled at the mention. A new friend. A new human friend. Well not really. They’d met a few times before. A Mr. Sherlock Holmes. But he wasn’t going to be born for a while yet. And if this did turn out to be alien-related and dangerous. He’d rather not take the risk. He’d been paranoid lately about messing up and letting someone get killed.

But as he’d heard before, it was better to roll with the punches and see where it takes you. There was some self satisfaction in knowing some thing no one else knew. Not to mention he could see if Sherlock had looked at the old evidence of the case one day and see if they’d caught the right man. “The issue is that human beings are so biased at this time period. They don’t believe they’re beloved friend or neighbor can do this. So while each group is pointing fingers, they refuse to look at the facts. All that culprit data you’re looking at is skewed because of it. The officers recorded it at their own prejudice. ” The Doctor pointed out. He hoisted himself off and came over to stand next to Jack, having made a few conclusions. “So what do you think so far?” He asked. 

When he said he was good, he meant it. Even though Torchwood with it’s advanced tech had spoiled him he still knew how to track people down. But this was ridiculous. He couldn’t pull anything from nothing, even if the Doctor knew someone who could. Jack set down the pile he had been flipping through and rubbed the back of his neck before steeling himself to look at the photographs.

He had seen worse, had done worse, but this made him feel sick. Jack lifted a shoulder and dropped it when the Doctor told him humans were biased. That never changed no matter how many centuries passed. You couldn’t look at a family member and say “hey you’re a serial killer”. It didn’t work like that. Plenty of killers in the modern day went by unnoticed, family and friends having no idea whatsoever and when they did find out it was still incredibly hard for them to believe.

Jack had lost all such notions when he joined the Time Agency. Family and friends could certainly be people you didn’t know. His eyes focused on the documenting photos in his hands as the Doctor came next to him. “What do I think?” He put the photos back in the box they had come from.

“I think that there has to be more to this case then the police know. Why the meticulous amount of wounds and the overkill?” He leaned back against one of the tables, his arms crossing across his chest. “It could be just a human sociopath, as terrible as it sounds. And I just realized how dependent I was on Torchwood technology.”

He had never told the Doctor how long he had been with Torchwood. Or that he had been the ‘go to’ guy for anything ranging from interrogations to dropping off children for alien species to take away. Jack reeled away from the 456 memories like he touched a hot stove, trying to bring his mind back to focus on their current problem.

The Doctor immediately forced them away from motivation. That was somewhere he didn’t want to touch yet. Let the younger man focus on facts first. Feels got jumbled up and didn’t always translate nicely in his brain. He flipped back to the police report, reading over again. “He’s right-handed, obviously so. Which… doesn’t lower our numbers now. It lowers them even less than in the 21st century. Because that whole claiming that your left side was even… Hah, if only they knew that people who wrote with their right hand were left-hemisphere oriented. Uhm… He takes a certain amount of pride in his work. Coming up from behind, strangulation first judging by the bruises, and he lowers them to the ground, carefully. There would have been wounds on the skull if he dropped them…. And that’s where he slits their throat.. the spray would have been a lot more noticed if he hadn’t… Gravity and all that.” The Doctor paused to mull over what he had just said carefully. Some times he just spoke without thinking it through. 

Crossing Lines

thatscaptaintoyou:

man-with-the-bluebox:

“I’m going to break the connection. Try to keep up, yeah?” 
The Doctor let them pull Jack from the carriage first, before being lead out himself. Taking a deep sigh, he started explaining that they had been sent by Her Majesty, detectives straight from London. They were to put an end to all this. Of course they laughed and asked for proof, so The Doctor pulled out his pad of psychic paper and showed them his identification.

He used his old alias of ‘John Smith’ again. it worked every time, so why change? The men were surprised, though dumbstruck seemed like a more funny term at the moment. He also explained that the letter explaining the situation was delayed. After clearing up some more details, the police removed the cuffs, not even questioning why one was cuffed behind his back and the other in front of him. The Doctor found this most comical.

The time lord also bargained for a room at the nearest Inn for them. By mentioning he’d say nothing about the misunderstanding to his superiors if they did so. And of course they obliged. The Doctor grinned. “Alright, gentlemen, care to lend us your files so far and we’ll get to work?” He asked, crossing his arms. 

Jack stood back and watched as the Doctor talked their way out of handcuffs. He had to pop his shoulder back in place in order to grab his own slip of psychic paper, causing one of the younger men to wince at the same time he did. Besides that moment, Jack stayed back and looked pretty. Catching someone looking, he lifted his eyes to wink at the wandering gaze causing the younger eyes to look away quickly. Ah, fun.

Rather than using his real name Jack introduced himself as Captain James Harper, soldier turned detective. For the most part Jack let the Doctor take center stage. He had been the center of attention in Torchwood, but he was traveling with the Doctor again and so he fell back into the man’s shadow. It was easier to manipulate things when he wasn’t being paid attention to.

When the Doctor asked for the files, they got them. It wasn’t much and it caused Jack to frown. All he saw were boxes of letters and photographs. There were no witness reports, evidence, nothing that would actually help. He flipped through some of the letters and lifted an eyebrow. Some people were really fucked up, but he didn’t believe that any of the ones he was looking at were by the killer.

“D-…John. I’m great, and I know I’m great, but this is..” Jack shrugged, flipped through more papers. There was nothing suggesting alien, or strange…besides the way the women were killed. That was just brutal. And he knew brutal. Intimately.

The Doctor went through the files, sitting on the desk of a younger officer who happened to have run off to fetch some tea. He was going through the reports of the bodies, he avoided the pictures all together, focusing instead on the descriptions. But suddenly he was pulled from his trance and his eyes shifted up. “Yes? What is it?” He asked. The Doctor was working analyzing data at almost the same rate he did when he worked for UNIT. And upon being interrupted, he displayed some irritation but it washed away once he was given the change to ramble. 

"Yes I know, no witnesses, no camera footage, no emails or traceable paper trail. Not even finger prints. They’ve got a couple of years on that. Actually, the failure of this case actually pushed toward the use of fingerprinting… But otherwise… Seems we’re not in our specific field. But… I have a friend who’d die for this sort of case." The Doctor smiled at the mention. A new friend. A new human friend. Well not really. They’d met a few times before. A Mr. Sherlock Holmes. But he wasn’t going to be born for a while yet. And if this did turn out to be alien-related and dangerous. He’d rather not take the risk. He’d been paranoid lately about messing up and letting someone get killed.

But as he’d heard before, it was better to roll with the punches and see where it takes you. There was some self satisfaction in knowing some thing no one else knew. Not to mention he could see if Sherlock had looked at the old evidence of the case one day and see if they’d caught the right man. “The issue is that human beings are so biased at this time period. They don’t believe they’re beloved friend or neighbor can do this. So while each group is pointing fingers, they refuse to look at the facts. All that culprit data you’re looking at is skewed because of it. The officers recorded it at their own prejudice. ” The Doctor pointed out. He hoisted himself off and came over to stand next to Jack, having made a few conclusions. “So what do you think so far?” He asked. 

Crossing Lines

thatscaptaintoyou:

man-with-the-bluebox:

“Oi. Stop that. You seem to forget that my TARDIS and I are linked.. And did she run away this time? Did she even complain about you being onboard? Other than that one time where I lied about her protesting your being there when I really accidentally sat on some controls…” The Doctor started by scolding Jack, but ended that bit of a ramble feeling guilty. He had made a joke about her not liking him when he had leaned to much on the console and hit too many buttons. His own fault really…Not to mention he had just invaded a huge portion of Jack’s thoughts without seeking permission… That, made him feel worse. 

He sighed, watching the passage of scenery slow to a crawl. The Doctor was always twelve steps ahead of everyone else’s. It’s not only the fact he wasn’t just the fact that his mind was much different from that of a humans, that sorted and stored the most important data, and filled in the rest of the details. Time Lords had the ability to live centuries, some even for a millenia. And even at the Doctor’s age his mind was still growing, still a fact base and still able to take in new data without forgetting anything. 

“Reason, reason. We need a reason to be here. Two men wondering in an alley. They clothes are a tad odd. One’s a little lanky and the other’s got the build of a solider. What were they doing… What are we doing… Detectives!” The Doctor’s eyes lit up and he reached for his pocket, pulling out the pad of psychic paper. He was already coming up with an excuse if Jack didn’t have any. Alright, they were sent in from London. Wait, he should share this with Jack, right? 
“We’re detectives from London. Sent to look into this mess. But the letter to this office hasn’t been received yet. So just follow my lead.” The Doctor stated mentally before reviewing some data on the case in his head. Trying his best to thing of details they’d file in reports.  

Jack physically flinched at the Doctor’s rambling retort to his own self-loathing. It was for that exact reason that he needed to start building his shields again. He was a very private person, even if he didn’t outwardly seem like it. Things like physical affections, attraction, and flirting, they were just apart of him. He enjoyed being open with his affection and didn’t care who knew what was happening.

But things like his thoughts, his memories, his emotional pain, and especially his past, were off limits to everyone. There were certain things that he could never forgive himself for and couldn’t risk loosing a loved one if they knew. Quietly, Jack leaned to kiss the top of the Doctor’s head. “I know. We’ve both done some changing.” He rested there for a few seconds, eyes closed, remembering things and then forgetting them for later in the same moment.

He straightened up as much as he could in his leaned position, maintaining contact with the Doctor. Jack hadn’t even done anything besides a grin when the Doctor had joked about the TARDIS being annoyed by him. There was no reason to make the younger man feel guilty about anything he had said or done. Jack normally forgave and forgot, but occasionally it was pinches of pain that came back.

As the Doctor thought out their plan to get out of the mess they had already stepped into, Jack gave an amused smile. “Detectives should work. If we come at the Queen’s order.” He racked his mind to see what all was in his RAF jacket. And if he was correct in thinking, he had a slip of paper quite like the Doctor’s in a formal casing. “I’ve got my own papers, and I’m always right behind you.”

The carriage came to a stop and a few moments later opened to a few police.

"I’m going to break the connection. Try to keep up, yeah?" 
The Doctor let them pull Jack from the carriage first, before being lead out himself. Taking a deep sigh, he started explaining that they had been sent by Her Majesty, detectives straight from London. They were to put an end to all this. Of course they laughed and asked for proof, so The Doctor pulled out his pad of psychic paper and showed them his identification.

He used his old alias of ‘John Smith’ again. it worked every time, so why change? The men were surprised, though dumbstruck seemed like a more funny term at the moment. He also explained that the letter explaining the situation was delayed. After clearing up some more details, the police removed the cuffs, not even questioning why one was cuffed behind his back and the other in front of him. The Doctor found this most comical.

The time lord also bargained for a room at the nearest Inn for them. By mentioning he’d say nothing about the misunderstanding to his superiors if they did so. And of course they obliged. The Doctor grinned. “Alright, gentlemen, care to lend us your files so far and we’ll get to work?” He asked, crossing his arms. 

Crossing Lines

thatscaptaintoyou:

man-with-the-bluebox:


“This body is full of all sorts of surprises. Though that really has nothing to do with flexibility so much as practice.” 
The Doctor grimaced. How many times had he been handcuffed in this regeneration? He had slipped out about 4 times now. That being his fifth. But still, he got a sliver of Jacks thoughts and he elbowed him, rolling his eyes. He sighed, leaning against Jack and watching out the window.  His brain began to sift through dates, events, all in London around this time. Things weren’t matching up. Jack saw a glimpse of all this data, some of it slipping through the rather hasty connection. 

“Women’s bodies started showing up?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. London wasn’t exactly a model of city for low crime rates. Actually quite the opposite. And not just in the 1880s either. Multiple bodies in 1888…. Suddenly it clicked…
“Oh! How did I miss that! I mean that’s just stupid how could I-“ The Doctor smacked himself to knock some sense back into him. “Jack the Ripper. Claimed 5 to 30 victims in the Whitechapel area in 1888 and some of 1889. All female and all..ahem… prostitutes…. But why would the TARDIS have brought us here?, That’s a strictly human endeavor. It’s not like I can change history when ever I please. I mean I could, but this is a human issue.”  The Doctor rambled on. He was trying to figure out where he and Jack fit into this. He understood why they were under arrest now. But why were they brought here, what was he supposed to do? Perhaps there was something else under his jurisdiction going on that was overlooked in light of the Ripper killings… 

“Practice, huh?” Now that was something he had to hear about. He didn’t recall any of the Doctor’s other regenerations getting handcuffed, but there was a lot he wasn’t around for. Jack wasn’t even sure that the Doctor had liked him anymore in his Tenth regeneration. It still hurt, the words that he had said. The Doctor had told him it was physically painful to look at Jack, that he was an awful mistake and shouldn’t have happened. But he tried not to dwell on those memories too much, as they were still sharing touch-telepathy and his mental barriers had become crap without exercise.

Captain Jack ‘listened’ as the Doctor explained what was going on. The glimpse into the fragments of data that floated around the Doctor’s brain was interesting. It was like when Jack sifted through his memories for certain experiences. But Jack had the training to make it more like filing cabinets that were easily accessible if he knew what specifically to think about/look at. He wasn’t sure the Doctor worked like that.

Besides, the Doctor saw more than just his own memories. The Doctor saw time itself. Which was a perfectly reasonable explanation for not remembering this. Jack didn’t pay much attention to the going-ons around him besides the pretty people and keeping himself entertained until the 21st century.

He glanced out the window, not having moved from the position he had shifted in in the first place. “We’re almost there.” The carriage was slowing down considerably if their surroundings weren’t hint enough. “Well we’re here for a reason.” Jack didn’t understand why the TARDIS had brought them to his timeline, let alone to a serial killer’s, but he was sure they’d find out soon enough.

It wouldn’t take much longer for the carriage to come to a complete stop. “Plan?”


"Oi. Stop that. You seem to forget that my TARDIS and I are linked.. And did she run away this time? Did she even complain about you being onboard? Other than that one time where I lied about her protesting your being there when I really accidentally say on some controls…" The Doctor started by scolding Jack, but ended that bit of a ramble feeling guilty. He had made a joke about her not liking him when he had leaned to much on the console and hit too many buttons. His own fault really…Not to mention he had just invaded a huge portion of Jack’s thoughts without seeking permission… That, made him feel worse. 

He sighed, watching the passage of scenery slow to a crawl. The Doctor was always twelve steps ahead of everyone else’s. It’s not only the fact he wasn’t just the fact that his mind was much different from that of a humans, that sorted and stored the most important data, and filled in the rest of the details. Time Lords had the ability to live centuries, some even for a millenia. And even at the Doctor’s age his mind was still growing, still a fact base and still able to take in new data without forgetting anything. 

"Reason, reason. We need a reason to be here. Two men wondering in an alley. They clothes are a tad odd. One’s a little lanky and the other’s got the build of a solider. What were they doing… What are we doing… Detectives!" The Doctor’s eyes lit up and he reached for his pocket, pulling out the pad of psychic paper. He was already coming up with an excuse if Jack didn’t have any. Alright, they were sent in from London. Wait, he should share this with Jack, right? 
"We’re detectives from London. Sent to look into this mess. But the letter to this office hasn’t been received yet. So just follow my lead." The Doctor stated mentally before reviewing some data on the case in his head. Trying his best to thing of details they’d file in reports.  

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