Play@YSDC

London, December 8th 1891, 2pm
It is a cold and windy winter’s day when the ‘Burmese Friends’ get together for their annual reunion at Simpson’s Tavern & Divan in The Strand. It is a chance to catch up, to remember old times, and to find out about future plans. Seated around the table are the stalwart but free-spirited former CSM Reg Smythe, his friend and former company commander Captain Harry Addison, a raffish rogue who has laid down the sword for the pen, and the alluring and mysterious Helena Jerkins, who is not quite what she appears to be. Lighting up their cigars, we can witness young infantry Lieutenant James Winter, and the experienced Irish doctor, Francis Preston.

The food is reasonably priced and satisfying, and the friends are enjoying their coffee and cigars. A lot of the talk centers around the current problems in The Sudan, where Britain is attempting to help their Egyptian clients to regain control. But such matters aside, it is good to be in the company of like-minded comrades.

Dr. Francis Preston

Preston shakes hands with his old comrades (and sometime patients) from his army days, conscious of the stiffness in his back as he leans across the table, remnant of the bullet which invalided him out of the Army Medical Corps. Despite taking up civilian practice he has maintained an interest in military affairs and listens attentively as those more active in the service talk of recent activities.

Harry is just finishing an anecdote from his time in Constantinople, training troops for the Ottoman Empire. As he chats and puffs on his cigar, the left side of his face tends to tighten against the scar on his cheek, as though he were leering rakishly at everyone. Which he does a lot, anyway.

"... 'Pon my honour though, it was only then I discovered she was the wife of the French ambassador! Too late by then of course. Completely innocent mistake!" He shrugs, affecting a virtuous air. "Entente cordiale, I say!" Harry slaps the table and grins evilly around his cigar.

"I hope the ambassador was diplomatic about it," says Reginald Smythe with a smile, having to make an effort not to call him "sir" now that neither of them are in the Army any more. Though with things heating up in the Sudan, he is tempted to put on the uniform again.

Harry wiggles his eyebrows. "Well, Sergeant-Major, if he ever finds out, I'll let you know." He cheerfully clinks his whisky against Smythe's then goes back to sipping it.

James a drink in hand, joins the two chaps. Is the girl worth that high of a risk hes asks with a mischievous grin on his face.

Harry looks mock outraged."Is the girl worth? My stars, lad, what are you saying? They're always worth that kind of a risk!" He grins cheerfully and holds his tumbler up in toast. "To all the ladies the Somersets have taken insane risks for." And with that takes a goodly sip of whisky.

"To the ladies" James toast and takes a sip as well.
"So how's the civilian life for you, i have to admit with all the talk about the sudan it itches me to get back in my uniform"

"Hear, hear!" says Reg, raising his glass. "To the ladies!" He takes a sip and smiles at Helena. "I have been feeling that very same itch. I may very well end up scratching it."

"So I was thinking about visiting my uncle nearby after this delightful meeting from what i hear he has news from the sudan"
"if you really think of scratching that itch you can tag along"

"all of you of course" James extends the invitation to the gathered folk

Harry waves his cigar expansively, looking relaxed and in no rush to go anywhere. "Do tell, young lad. Where abouts does your uncle live and what's his connection to North Africa?"

Dr. Francis Preston

"Isn't he the chap who runs the book shop on the Charing Cross Road?" Preston muses. "I wouldn't mind popping over to say hello to the old boy and take a look at his wares."

"It is just a short walk away, about ten minutes, in Charring cross road" James starts to explain. "He owns a bookshop there famous for it's texts about history and geography. Since my uncle takes his job rather seriously and likes to talk he has people all over the world that help him keeping his assortment up to date. The happenings in the sudan will obviously spark some changes so I'll guess he hes already aquired actual data from the soon-to-be war zone"

Juulm,Alan is a retired soldier who served in the Sudan, he doesn't have any particular up to date information about the current situation there, and it's not important to the story anyway. Don't worry, I'll let you know any clues which are relevant.

The friends pay their bill, and buttoned up against the cold, set off for James’ uncle’s bookshop. The sky is grey and overcast as they trudge up St Martins Lane, but they are in high spirits.

They reach Cecil Court and locate ‘Paice’s’, the bookshop in question. Opening the door, they can see hundreds of books lining the shelves, a dream for any avid reader. A slight middle-aged man is seated behind the counter, reading something. He has a troubled expression on his face. He raises his head as they enter and then the frown disappears as he smiles in delight.

“James! What a pleasure!”

He stands and extends his hand. “These must be the friends I heard about” he says as he regards the group.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," says Reg, shaking his hand with a very firm grip. "I'm Reginald Smythe, former Sergeant Major of your nephew's company. We served together in Burma."

Paice frowns slightly at the words ‘sergeant-major’.

“Well, it’s good to meet you all” he says, shaking Reg’s hand. “But I have some bad news, James” he tells his nephew. “I won’t be able to have lunch with you tomorrow. I need to travel down to Dover for a funeral. My old sergeant-major” he says sadly.

"I am so sorry to hear that" James conducts his condolences. "What happened?"

“It’s awful! He was murdered, strangled to death outside his home.” Paice shakes his head sadly. “This is the second funeral of an old comrade I’ve had to attend within a week.”

"Good heavens!" exclaims Reg. "One of the Queen's valiant soldiers serves honourably and survives war in foreign lands only to be murdered at home! How can this happen?! Has the fiend been caught?"

“Not yet it seems” replies Paice. “I’m taking the 9am train from London Bridge station. The funerals at 12. Maybe I’ll know more information about it then.”

Harry wanders off in search of any original editions of Captain Gronow's "Reminiscences", or any of Sir Richard Burton's works and translations. He does attempt to keep half an ear on the conversation.

Dr. Francis Preston

Preston introduces himself. "The second funeral within a week, you say? Was the first anyone we might know?"

“I doubt it” sighs Paice. “He was a private from my platoon in Sudan. He fell from the platform at Charing Cross Station and was hit by a train. Awful business. He was a good man.”

Dr. Francis Preston

Preston frowns. "I'm not a suspicious man by nature but something about these two fatal incidents occuring so close together strikes me as odd." Thinking of his colleague Dr. Watson's accounts of his detective friend Mr. Holmes' investigations, he adds, "Perhaps we ought to look into the matter."

Paice looks shocked. "Really?" he says. "But Reynolds - the man killed by the train - wasn't murdered. At least, no foul play was suspected."

"It could be a coincidence," says Reg. "Then again, it might not be. I'll keep an open mind about it. In any event, the sergeant-major's death most certainly is foul play. If there's any way I could assist the police in their inquiries, I'd like to. What was the man's name?"

"The Sergeant-major? Herbert Crouch" says Paice. "It might be possible to ask some questions tomorrow at the funeral,
I suppose" he muses.

"If you want to we can come to the funeral as well. maybe we spot something"

“Really? That’s very decent of you.” Paice is surprised but pleased. “Crouch would appreciate some good men to help see him off, I’m sure. Now, buy some books and allow me to make a living. You there! You look like you might enjoy Burton's writings.”

OOC,The next day is a Saturday, so I'll assume you'll take the time to join Paice on his trip to Dover. It's a splendid place, probably. I'll start a new thread.