An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Made something for the @plgiftexchange!! I’m super happy with it and hope to write more in the future, I have a lot of WIPs that would be really fun to finish :)
Bunch of Mystery Room doodles (one redraw), and one of Emiliana. That guy in the second one, with Florence, is my OC Eric from Forensics. I shouldn't have included him because Florence looks so perfect ;^; but oh well, that's why I tried to crop him, too, in the second version.
This is my gift for the LBMR Secret Santa! Thanks to @askalfendilayton for arranging the whole thing!
My gift is for the wonderful @dont-drop-your-ascots
Now without further ado...
crossposted on ao3
Rating: General Audiences
-
Florence wheeled into Alfendi Layton’s office looking like a woman on a mission. Her hair was tied back, lab coat buttoned, and there were smudges of ink on her hands and face. She rolled over to Alfendi’s desk and slammed her hands onto the small part not covered with papers.
“Al, you’ve gotta help me,” Florence said, very nearly out of breath. “Christmas party. Will the Commissioner be there or not?”
Alfendi blinked at her from where he was sitting. “Pardon?”
“I need to know if Barton will be at the holiday party. Because if he’s there, I need to get him a nice gift. Stay in his good- achoo!” Florence sat back in her chair and pulled a tissue from the box on the desk in front of her.
“Oi, Flo!”
Florence nearly fell onto the floor. Lucy Baker had at some point materialized behind her, and was walking over with a bottle of hand sanitizer.
“It’s cold season, ya know. Gotta stay healthy!” Lucy said. “Nice decorations, by the way.” She touched the few layers of tinsel draped around Florence’s chair. Lucy then handed the family-sized bottle to Florence and disappeared to some dank corner of the small office.
A dry smile appeared on Alfendi’s face. “Lucy, you don’t need to mother everyone who comes in the office,” he said, glancing at the place to which Lucy had disappeared.
“I can and shall, Prof!”
“Much appreciated, Lu,” Florence said with a cursory glance to Lucy’s corner. She turned back to Alfendi and pumped some sanitizer.
“Florence, all I can tell you is that Barton is always at the party, which you know. What’s the real reason you’re here?” said Alfendi.
“I told you. Need a gift. For the Commissioner. Any ideas?”
“And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the new position in forensics opening up?”
“No!” she said, indignant. “If you must know-” Florence leaned as far as she could across the desk and lowered her voice- “I bet Sniffer 20 pounds that I can get Barton the best present ever.”
“That’s really not a big deal. The Commissioner just likes getting gifts, I don’t think he’s that hard to buy for,” said Alfendi. He pulled a snow globe sitting on his desk towards him. It depicted a snowman wearing sunglasses lounging by a sunny shore, and there were assorted beachy snowpeople decorating the base. Florence stared at the relaxing snowman as Alfendi picked up the snow globe and began to turn a key, causing a tinkling rendition of some Christmas standard she didn’t recognize to play.
Florence thought he must be intrigued by her problem if he picked up a snow globe instead of his paperwork. Or maybe just bored, but she really needed the help.
“Please, Al. It’s a matter of pride. Losing a bet to Sniffer Hague? No chance in hell.”
The snow globe stopped playing. Florence finally placed the tune- ‘Jingle Bell Rock.’
Alfendi put it back down on his desk and stood up. “Let’s go,” he said. “We’re getting lunch, then we’re both getting presents for Barton. Lucy, you coming with?”
“Can’t- already have lunch plans,” piped Lucy. She materialized again from whichever corner she was hiding in. She gave her boss an apologetic glance. “Have fun, you two.”
“Bye, Lucy, have fun with your plans,” Florence called over her shoulder. She had already wheeled halfway out the door.
-
“You can always do what I’m doing and get the Commissioner a gift card to a fancy restaurant,” said Alfendi. He was walking next to Florence along the pavement lining the shopping center. A brisk wind blew at the duo’s ponytails as they traversed the multitude of stores. A few inches of snow lay on the ground, turning quickly to slush with all the passers-by.
“We can’t get him the same thing, Al. Then Hague will know you helped.” Florence looked in the window of each store they passed, noting the various Christmas displays. She didn’t note the people staring at her lab coat and dirty face.
Alfendi stuck his hands in his coat pockets. “I don’t know. Writing pad? Fountain pen? Silverware? Gift card to a different fancy restaurant?”
Florence kept her eyes peeled. Skincare, no. Furniture, no. Creepy elf animatronic, a resounding no. Pots and pans-
“Hold it.” She froze.
“What?”
“What if…” She looked up to meet Alfendi’s eyes. “What if I made him food? Like his favorite dessert or something?”
He considered the idea.
“Florence Sich… You are a genius. Nothing Sniffer comes up with can beat that,” Alfendi said. They resumed their walk, this time in the direction of the Yard. Florence stopped gazing into every store display and focused on where she was going.
“What does the Commissioner like?” she asked.
“Hmm. Well, I know he’s not one for delicate dishes. But he loves a good sweet nonetheless. Maybe you could try giving him a pie of some sort?”
“I can’t cook, though. Nor can I bake. Al, any chance you know how to make haute cuisine?” She grimaced.
“I’m decent at baking, but nowhere near as good as you want to be to meet Barton’s standards,” he said, shaking his head. “But I know someone who can help. Do you know my sister Flora? Go see her, she’ll know what to do.”
“I hope so. I need all the help I can get.” The pair had reached Alfendi’s nearby car. They drove back to the Yard in the snow. Never had Florence been more grateful for the coat she had received from one aunt or another at some birthday. It may have been bulky and inconvenient, but it was functional in the old car with a broken heating system.
When they reached their workplace, Florence was no less frazzled than she was when the trip had started. Alfendi reached across her and took a pen and notepad from his glove compartment.
“Here’s the address,” he said, scribbling. “Flora will be there pretty much anytime before 6 pm. Just explain that you need to cook something and she’ll help you out.” He ripped out the piece of paper and offered it to Florence.
She accepted the proffered address and made a mental note to stop by the place after work. “Thanks for your help, Al. I’m sure you’ll know whether I’m up 20 pounds or not after the holiday party.”
“Always a pleasure, Florence. Are we still on for coffee with Lucy next week?”
“Yup, yup. Have to go, Al, duty calls.” And with that, Florence was off to work.
-
Florence knocked on the thick wooden door. It was marked by a metal nameplate reading ‘Professor Layton.’
The address Alfendi gave Florence had led her to a small university she had considered applying to in her youth, out in the country. She found herself surrounded by old-fashioned wood and brick and young students milling around the campus. Unfortunately, the old building was filled with dust and rendered her considerably more sneezy than usual.
“Professor Layton?” she called. With no response, she tried the door handle. It was unlocked, so Florence entered. The office was lit warmly, and in a corner Florence noticed a desk. It was considerably neater than the one she had been staring down earlier that day.
Behind the desk sat a woman. Florence couldn’t see her face, as she was slumped over in sleep. Brown hair fanned out over her desk and around her shoulders.
Florence wondered if it would be rude to wake the woman. Probably not, she decided. Flora had looked kind in all the pictures Alfendi had sitting on his desk.
She tapped the woman on the shoulder. “Professor Layton?” she said again. “Professor Layton. Are you alright?” She sneezed into her elbow.
Flora sat up with a start. “What? Hmm?” She rubbed at her eyes. “Pardon me, but who are you?”
“I’m- achoo!- Florence Sich, Professor. I work with Alfendi. I was under the impression you could help me with something. It’s quite nice to finally meet you in person.”
“Oh!” said Flora. She pulled at a piece of hair that had escaped her tight ponytail. “Yes, I do remember a message from Al about that. You need to make the Commissioner a Christmas treat?”
The scientist fiddled with her coat buttons. “Yes… I’ve got a bet that I can get him the best Christmas gift. Achoo!” The place was really quite dusty.
“Bless you! So, what do you have in mind? Last I saw him, the Commissioner favored fruits… how about a fruit tart? That shouldn’t be exceptionally difficult. When can you give it to him?”
“I need it by next Friday. Can you teach me how to bake by then?” Florence asked.
“Let’s see.” Flora turned around in her desk chair to look at a calendar hanging on the wall behind her. “I’m free this Sunday morning at 11. Can you come over then and I’ll teach you? I can have Al send you my home address.”
“Would you really do that? Help me?”
“A true gentlewoman always helps a person in need,” Flora said. “Any friend of Alfendi is a friend of mine anyway. So will I see you on Sunday?”
Florence nodded eagerly. “Yes! I’ll see you then. Thank you so much, Professor. You don’t know how much this helps.”
Flora laughed. “Call me Flora, dear. I’ve made a few wagers in my life. I hope you win this one.”
-
“Gah! Why is baking so difficult?” Florence grimaced at the sight of the sugar all over her hands. She was in Flora’s kitchen, which smelled profusely of vanilla and butter. Flora stood next to her. Ingredients were spread all over the counter and Florence thought she must have a piece of every single one on the apron she had borrowed.
“Focus, Florence,” Flora said. “The cream is the hardest part. Once you get past this it’ll be smooth sailing.”
“I’m just worried about this- achoo!- party,” Florence said. “It’s not about the bet anymore. I actually want to make the Commissioner a nice gift. This year’s been a rough one for the Yard.”
Flora slowly poured cream into her bowl and began to mix with vigor, and Florence copied her. “Try to put all of that behind you. As long as you focus on the baking, I promise you it will turn out well and Commissioner Barton will love it,” said Flora.
“In fact, I was never much for cooking myself when I was young. Alfendi can attest to that. But with a few years of practice and a healthy dose of passion, I was able to make all sorts of good things. I bet it was sort of the same thing for you and detective work, huh?”
Florence sighed, pouring another ingredient in. “Yeah, but I’m a scientist, not a detective. You’d think I’d be good at this, dealing with measurements like I do.”
“Who said you weren’t good at baking?” Flora set down her own bowl and crossed her arms. “Look at what you’ve got there. That’s perfect!”
Florence looked down. “Huh,” she said. Her eyes widened. “Really? Is it okay?”
“It’s more than okay,” Flora said as she pulled their tart shells out of the oven, where they had sat for fifteen minutes. “It’s wonderful. And if you made this on your first try, being nervous, there’s no way you can’t recreate it next week.”
“Thank you!” Florence said. “Professor Layton, you are my Christmas miracle.”
Flora was beaming. “It’s always a pleasure to help, especially during this season! Now let’s finish these tarts!”
The pair finished the next couple steps with minimal difficulty. When they were done, Florence was dumbfounded at the neat appearance of her own creation. It looked too pretty to be something she had made, given the recent state of her affairs in the busy season. She thanked Flora over and over again before leaving.
“So will I be seeing you again soon?” she asked Flora.
“Sure thing, dear. I’ll make sure to drop by the party at some point. Have a lovely week!”
-
The Yard Holiday Party was by no means extravagant. This year it was held in a back room at the yard, as per the usual. It had been decorated nicely by someone. Probably Lucy, Florence thought, given the woman’s penchant for fairy lights. They were strung up on every table, around the walls, the tree, and even some people.
Tables with chairs were scattered sporadically across the small room, and a tree stood in the corner. It was done up with tinsel and paper clip garlands, courtesy of some bored Yard employees. Lights reflected off of red baubles hung precariously from the branches of the tree.
Various holiday sweaters abounded- from Dustin’s light-up Rudolph face to the Deputy Commissioner’s sparkly Christmas tree. Florence herself was wearing a simple red dress. Amidst the sea of sweaters she spotted Lucy wrapping a string of lights around Alfendi’s arm.
Florence went to where they were standing. “Have you seen Barton?” she asked, anxious to give him the treat she carried. “Oh! Looking good, Lucy.”
Lucy had switched her newsboy cap out for a Santa one covered in bells, and was wearing an atrocious fur-trimmed glittery sweater. Alfendi had obviously suffered a few hugs, being covered in glitter himself.
“Cheers, Flo! Happy holidays!” said Lucy as she offered Florence a cup of cider. She took it and gulped down some in the hopes that it would distract her from the task at hand.
Alfendi offered her a jingle bell, presumably fallen off of Lucy’s hat.
“For good luck,” he said. Florence took it and tucked it into her purse. Alfendi smiled and pointed to the center of the room. “I think Barton’s over there. But Sniffer’s with him, so don’t let him get to you!”
“Thanks, Al. I’d better be off before Hague starts to sabotage me.” Florence carried her tart to the Commissioner himself.
“Sir?” she ventured once near enough to give it to him. “This would be for you. Made it myself.”
The Commissioner took the treat Florence offered. “Ms. Sich, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he said. “And look- my favorite type of tart! My friend Layton used to make some just like this, you know.”
Sniffer Hague stood right next to Barton, upset that his conversational efforts to win him over had been interrupted. “Is that so, sir?” he asked, winking at Florence.
She was silent. The Commissioner paused, and everything seemed to slow down around the three.
“Well, of course it doesn’t beat the signed cookbook you got me, but a homemade treat from the heart is really something special. Here, sit down.” He dragged Florence and Sniffer to a nearby table. “Let’s eat this right now!”
A crowd gathered around the table as the tart was cut into and eaten. “Merry Christmas, everybody!” said the Commissioner.
“Heh. 20 pounds to me…” Sniffer muttered to Florence.
“Delicious, Ms. Sich!” the Commissioner snuffled through a piece of tart. Sniffer picked up his own piece and started eating.
She flashed a genuine smile at the Commissioner. If she couldn’t win a bet, at least she had given Barton something he genuinely liked. She supposed that made the difficulty worth it. Still… all that effort for basically nothing.
She glared at Sniffer. “ I learned to bake just for this, you know,” she said.
“Really? That’s dedication,” he said, looking impressed. Bits of cream dotted his nose. “And this is really, really good. I guess I’ll let the money slide. But only because this is amazing, and because it’s Christmas.” Sniffer and Florence shook hands and smiled.
“Merry Christmas, Hague,” Florence caid.
“Merry Christmas, Sich.”
“Oi! You two! Over here!” They both looked over to where Lucy was calling them. “Let’s dance!” she said.
“I would rather not!” Florence shouted back.
‘Jingle Bell Rock’ was blaring from an unseen speaker. Lucy shrugged and started dancing with a somewhat reluctant Alfendi. After a verse or two, they pushed through the crowd to sit with Florence and her companion.
“So? Who won?” Alfendi asked eagerly.
“Sniffer called it off!” Florence said with a triumphant flourish. “Did I ever tell you your sister was a Christmas miracle, Alfendi?”
“I take that to mean that Hague won?” he said. He was grinning from ear to ear.
Hague nodded. “Sich here just put so much effort into this bet. Had’ta throw it. It is the season of giving, after all. Here, try some of her tart.” He pushed a plate towards Alfendi and Lucy.
“Well then, here’s a gift for you.” Florence placed the bell Alfendi gave her into Sniffer’s hand.
“Yes! A true reconciliation,” Lucy said. “Now, can we please rock around some Christmas trees?”
The music got louder, and rock they did.
If anyone wants some Layton angst: disappeared people in UK get declared “presumed dead” 7 years after last seen. That makes Kat 17 yo and Al 25 yo, which is when he was shot, therefore, Katrielle probably had to attend her dad’s funeral alone.
