Chapter Text
Prologue
With Luke back in school as the leaves in London’s parks gradually turned a brick orange hue, Hershel sat in his office, alone. He felt despondent, if he was being truthful with himself. As he solved cases as they came through, be it unusual keys that led to unopened chests, or little puzzle pieces that his neighbour struggled to finish, it never felt worthwhile if there was no one there to celebrate his small victories with. Burying himself in his archeology studies, distracting himself from the hollow loneliness that slowly began engulfing his chest, the clang of his letterbox opening and shutting grabbed his attention as a small, dainty letter gently fluttered onto the ever-growing pile that sat against his office door.
“Thank you so much!” The cabbie gave you a gracious bow as you stuffed the palm of her hand with whatever loose notes and change that sat inside your trouser pocket, which was clearly more than enough to cover the taxi cost. You were simply too distracted, trying to swing your rucksack over your shoulder while gathering the rest of your luggage between your ankles. Although you initially planned to leave your luggage in the hotel room you’d booked ahead of time, unfortunately you were way behind schedule, thanks to your very unreliable bedside alarm.
This opportunity, that was so graciously given to you by your university professor, was a once in a lifetime chance; to be able to study under the guidance of the one and only Professor Layton! However, you weren’t by any means an archaeology student, your educational career was studying criminology. With Professor Layton’s undoubtable track record of helping the police during unusual cases, it only made sense to your own professor to send out one of his lucky students to learn a thing or two from his close friend. And so, you found yourself standing at the double-doored entrance of the Gressenheller University building. Although, you didn’t have much time to bask in its glory after catching a glance of your wristwatch, only to realise you were already 20 minutes late.
Catching your two suitcases by their handles, you strolled through the many hallways, looking left, and looking right, until the neurons in your brain sparked alight at a familiar metal number that hung rather loosely against a wooden door.
Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm your anxious mind, you raised your closed fist up to the wooden door, and softly rapped your knuckles against its time-worn surface.
“Come in.” You heard his voice, coming from the other side. Although slightly muffled, you could already tell his polite and friendly disposition from his speech pattern alone. You felt the excitement of meeting such an amazing man already coursing through you, and you hadn’t even seen the fellow.
Taking the brass doorknob in your hand, you twisted it until you heard a hollow ‘click’, and took a cautious peek inside. Observing your surroundings, your body physically jumped when you spotted the Professor Layton, sitting at his desk, his back turned to you.
“Come in, come in. Sorry for causing such a mess this time, Rosa.” Layton casually welcomed, however, your brain short circuited at the name he addressed you by.
Ah-
Ro.. sa..?
Who’s Rosa?
“However, it shouldn’t be too much of a hassle to clean, I’m sure.” He continued to speak, sheepishly itching the back of his ear as he finally turned to face you. His eyebrows slowly raised as his eyes scoured your entire being, very visibly confused by your presence.
“Oh, my apologies.” He said as he rested the palm of his hands on his knees. “Is Rosa out sick today?” He questioned with a head tilt.
…
Ay?!
Seeing your perplexed expression, his eyes slowly trailed down towards your suitcase, which was just peeking out from behind you, and that was when it finally clicked for Layton.
“Oh!” He exclaimed as he stood to his feet, clearly flustered by your sudden appearance. “My deepest apologies, I-” he began to stammer, completely flummoxed as he took in his haphazard surroundings; books and papers strewn across every surface available, and the floor, with crumb-covered saucers and almost-empty cups of tea scattered throughout the room. “Y-You must be.. erm..” he said as he began to attempt to organise a distressed pile of scribbled paper in front of him.
“Dr. Schwartz’ student, yes.” You clarified as you stood plainly in his small foyer, simply watching his flustered movements as he attempted to reorganise his office space right before your eyes.
“M-My sincerest apologies— I.. erm, I seem to have lost track of time. What day is it?” He asked, his jittery gesticulations coming to a halt as he awaited your answer. As he finally stood still, only then did you realise he was without his own iconic headpiece; his top hat.
“It’s Thursday, Professor Layton.” You informed him, your eyes locked with his light brown hair, fixated on his cute little cowlick that stood tall at the crux of his cranium. It was unusual to see him without his notable accessory, to say the least. Not to mention the cosy sweater he had donned that day. The weather had gotten much colder those past few days, after all.
“Ohh.. drat, I thought it was Tuesday.. erm..” Layton mumbled to himself as his body swivelled every which way, unsure of where to start cleaning first.
This was certainly.. not what you expected of the Professor. You knew he must’ve been at least a little eccentric, but this.. this was just complete disregard of his surroundings, of his schedule. This wasn’t the well-meaning, intelligent man you thought himself to be. You had to be honest with yourself; you felt slightly disappointed by your first meeting.
Taking a gander as you took a few steps inside his office, your luggage still sitting by the door, you glanced at his calendar that hung on the side of his bookshelf. By the looks of it, he’d completely abandoned the schedule planner in the middle of July.
“P-Please, have a seat.” Layton said, addressing the small sofa-and-coffee table combo that sat snugly in the middle of the office, not before nimbly pulling away the evidence of its haphazard conversion to a rather uncomfortable bed. It was painfully obvious that the Professor had taken to living inside his office dwelling.
“Oh- right.. you must be hungry, surely? Did you have lunch?” The Professor asked as he attempted to balance an unstable tower of teacups in his left hand.
“..Ah, I.. I didn’t..” You admitted, recollecting on your rushed afternoon routine, cursed by your faulty alarm. Perhaps you had no room to judge the busy Professor after all.
“Oh— Of course, of course. Have you found lodgings for yourself yet, Miss?” He asked as he gently placed a tower of ceramic saucers at an empty corner of his desk, which you could only assume was a gift awaiting Rosa’s arrival.
“Ah, yes. I have.. I just didn’t have time to.. check in, yet.” You admitted as you pensively glanced at your awaiting luggage. You felt out of place at that moment, sitting still inside Layton’s office as he rushed around the room, gathering books and documents and stuffing them harshly inside lockers and cabinets. You felt the urge to help the poor guy, it was obvious he was struggling. But in the same vein, this man was.. a stranger. You were a stranger. A stranger that he would most likely rather not rummage through his items, understandably so. Thus, you sat still, with your back standing straight as a board with timid anxiety.
“Well..” Layton said with a huff as he dusted off and reorganized his sweater. “That will be the first course of action, then.” He said as he turned to you with a gentle smile, his cheeks flushed by the brief work out he endured, which was most likely the first in many weeks. “Let’s get you booked in—“ He paused, slightly taken aback when his index and thumb didn’t pinch onto the brim of his tophat. “Oh.. I seem to have..”
“..Misplaced it?” You suggested towards his hat, which sat firmly in your hand. It had been tossed to the floor at some point during his stay, and you happened to find it right by your feet under the coffee table.
“Aha, yes.. thank you.” He said with a bashful smile before grasping it from your hand. Fitting it on his head with a delighted smile, he turned to his coat hanger and procured his long brown jacket, just as you stood to your feet.