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Upon arriving at 46 Harley Street, after successfully getting myself
lost and spending a good three hours wandering around London, I sat down
on
Jekyll's front steps, suddenly unsure of myself. What on earth was
I going to tell Jekyll? "Hi. Remember me? The weirdo that slept under your
table
night before last? Well, I'd like to crawl under there again and see
if I can get back to New York City, preferably about a century from now."
Yeah,
*that* would go over real smoothly.
Or....I could say I had come from Lucy, who needed his help, and send
him over to the Red Rat, while I stayed in the laboratory....no. He'd probably
insist that I come with him. Even if he didn't, he'd never leave me
alone in his lab, with that journal of his.
I could try saying that I knew all about him and Hyde, and that I'd
tell the whole world unless he helped me....dammit, I couldn't do that.
He seemed
too nice. I simply wasn't in the habit of torturing nice people. I'd
leave that to Hyde.
Well, I was getting used to ad-libbing, anyway. Might as well just go
in, and then take it from there. I knocked on the door. Almost before I
could
blink, that creepy guy Poole was there. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Er...um....I'm here to see Dr. Jekyll." There. Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?
"I'm sorry, Dr. Jekyll isn't seeing anyone."
Damn. I had forgotten about the reclusive nature of the good doctor. "Well, I really, really need to see him."
"I do apologize, but he has specific instructions that he does not wish
to see anyone." Poole moved to close the door on me, and I stuck my arm
against
the door frame, blocking him.
"I don't think you understand," I said in what I hoped was a menacing manner. "I am going to see Henry Jekyll. This is very important."
"I'm very sorry--"
What was this guy, a broken record? Sighing with frustration, I kicked
the door open and pushed past the old man as politely as I could. I ducked
into
the study that led to the lab, and locked the door behind me. Walking
quickly but resolutely to the lab, I found the door locked. Damn!
I examined the lock. One of those really old ones, the ones shaped like
real keyholes. Suddenly, I remembered my cousin when I was twelve, teaching
me how to pick one of these. "Thank you Janey," I muttered, pulling
a pin out of my dress and bending it with my teeth. When she taught me
this
information, it hadn't helped much with the newer locks, but with one
like this, it might just do the trick. I pushed the pin into the lock and
started
wiggling it around, ignoring the muffled yells of Poole back in the
hallway.
The lock moved, and the door popped open quietly. Success! Thank heaven for illegal talents.
Closing the door silently behind me, I crept into the lab on my knees.
Jekyll was there, writing in his notebook, muttering to himself, looking
absolutely spaced out. It was so dark, I wasn't surprised he couldn't
see me...but I was grateful for it, nonetheless. Maybe I wouldn't even
announce
my precsence. Maybe I could just crawl under the table, jump back to
good ole New York, and he would never even have to know I was here.
Heartened by this deluded optimisim, I started crawling towards the
table, only to be distracted by the sight of Jekyll closing his journal
and plunging a
needle into his arm.
Oh, joy.
Struck numb with shock, I watched open-mouthed as Jekyll began to twitch,
then scream, then fall to the floor right next to me. As I stared at him
lying not two feet from me, apperantly unconcious, I felt that I really
ought to run, or hide, or get help, or do *something*....but I was completely
incapable of moving from that spot. My eyes never left him, even as
he groaned, sat up, pulled his long black hair out of the rubber band,
turned
around, and looked directly at me.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Hyde asked.