Twelve midnight, a man and his dog were walking down the platform waiting for their train. Due to how late it was the platform was otherwise deserted, the only sound that could be heard was that of the signal light fluttering and the dogs' light panting.

A breeze brushed across the man's cleanly shaven cheek whistling in his ear, sending a chill down his spine.

There was another whistle, a disembodied whistle. This wasn't the wind this time. The dog started barking, running in circles clearly not knowing where the sound was coming from.

Finally the whistling started resulating into a tune; a low sinister hum. The man recognised it as one he used to whistle when he helped make these very tracks many years before.

"Who's there?" The man called into the now formulating fog.

The dog stopped barking, its ears perking up. Shaking its collar loose it ran off into the into the distance out of poriferal view.

"Roo... Roo... where are you boy? Come back!"

The man started to stumble off after the dog not noticing the looming figure in the background. The man saw the dog cowering under a worn wooden bench. The dog, Roo, barked only once, a single bark, terrified. The man turned around only to be greeted by a man, a beast of a man. He had a big build covered by a lot of black, with a small bowler hat that did not seem to fit the appearance at all. The shadow from this said hat seemed to completely disguise all facial features.

The smaller man backed away a step letting out a tremendous scream before being knocked cold.

~x~o~x~

A well dresses man: black creaseless trench coat, shined shoes, neatly groomed mustache and tall top hat put down the base of the telephone slowly lowering the ear piece and resting it in the cradle.

"There's another one!" Inspector Lestrade called to a weedy looking man who jumped at the sound of his voice. The weedy man scurried over picking up a pile of papers the inspector had just spent the last half hour scribbling notes on.

As near as this man looked on the outside, it was the complete opposite on the inside. Lucky if he could put two and two together and actually come out with a number he wasn't what you would call the best inspector. When he wasn't ordering people around he would spend that time in a pub drinking away his sorrows. But at work people respected him and about along with the money that's all he cared about.

As soon as the weedy man was out of his office he closed the door, took off his top hat and ran his hand through his hair.

"This is just one of those cases... why do they always request me? I only got this job due to luck!" He sat behind his desk pulling out a hip flask. "There is no way I can do this case alone!"

Lestrade placed his top hat back on his head and picked up the ear piece. He turned the dial.

"I'm going to regret this!"

He dialed the remaining numbers and waited.

"Hello," A voice sang down the line.

The inspector sighed "I... need your help on a case..."

Even though he couldn't see the man on the other side of the line he could tell he was smirking.

"Of course Lestrade..."