Chapter Text
Daisy asked me to do this.
Daisy asked me to do this.
And then she abandoned me completely. I was trying not to think too hard about that as I was standing in front of a prosecutor's office, absolutely terrified.
Of course, I was already shaken this month due to the extreme weather, but no matter.
Still, out of every single prosecutor in the entire world, she told me to ask this one.
I should explain:
Miles Edgeworth is a prosecuting attorney. He became a lawyer at the young age of twenty, and earned himself the title of the Demon Prosecutor.
Nicknames always have a reason. For example, Daisy calls me Watson, because, although she would never admit it, I write things down in an organised and methodical way when her Holmes brain can't.
I could only suspect "Demon Prosecutor" to have it's origins too.
Well, I did. I had thoroughly done my research (no, Daisy, it was not overdramatic) and found rumours of forging evidence, crafting testimonies, outdated autopsy reports, the list went on.
When Daisy heard about this though, her letters were only slightly more excited.
That was a problem.
You see, Daisy has currently been dealing with Hephzibah, Fallingford, her parents, and recently protecting Bertie and Harold from the police for committing the crime of falling in love.
Her mother has been the worst of them. A letter Daisy had sent me recently was so Un-Daisy that it made my blood boil.
Deran elsst, amtna roitl htlek ahlve zehed. ••• --- •-• •-• -•--/
-Wotcher
When I got it, I immediately put down the code and stared in shock.
It felt wrong, seeing Daisy apologise. The Great and Honourable Daisy Wells didn't do apologies.
Everyone else cared when they had thought she had died, but her mother? She didn't even leave a message.
I could only do this for her now.
I knocked.
. . .
"Larry, if that's you again, I swear I will let fourth grade Phoenix loose on you." A posh voice muttered while the doorknob twisted.
I tensed up like a cat.
A young man, maybe mid-twenties, stood in a wine red suit, with an exquisite white jabot. Silky silver hair framed his serious expression.
". . . And you are?"
"H-Hazel Wong, sir—uh, Prosecutor Edgeworth. I came for—"
"—a case against someone?" Edgeworth finished. "Not the first time I've taken children as clients, I suppose."
I could almost hear Daisy huffing in indignation at being called a child. I relaxed slightly at that.
"Yes, a girl, Hepzibah Miller. Second child and suspected murderer of Theodora Miller."
The Demon Prosecutor's eyes narrowed at that. I had assumed he hadn't heard of the Egypt case, and brought out my casebook.
It felt odd, giving my casebook to an adult that wasn't Inspector Priestley.
Edgeworth paused on the very first page. I panicked, wondering what I had written there, and remembered my grievances over Daisy's "passing".
I waited for the prosecutor to gently shut the book and hand it back to me.
". . ."
"How long have you been doing this?" Wow. An adult talking us seriously for once.
I let out a sigh of relief.
"Two years."
Edgeworth nodded. "Care to give more details about the case?"
"Hepzibah's brother, Daniel, was the victim in this case. Stabbed in three different places like his mother was."
I genuinely felt sorry for Daniel. He never asked to be in the Breath of Life.
"Hepzibah," I continued, gesturing to the casebook "Is being investigated for her mother's murder." ie, she did it.
"Theodora Miller had also been stabbed in three different areas, so that aroused suspicion in me."
Edgeworth nodded again. "I shall take some time to read over the case. Do you have any place to stay?"
I paused. I didn't, but I couldn't lie, could I? Maybe that wouldn't bode well. I shook my head.
After a few (slightly aggressive) phone calls, the Demon Prosecutor turned and said, "I have a hotel booked. If anyone asks, put it on Larry Butz's tab."
He turned to go.
"W-wait! Prosecutor Edgeworth! There's someone crucial to this case: Joshua Morse."
I've written that up now. It's getting late and I should sleep.
— ✉︎ —
Dear Hazel,
Sorry for not contacting you more often. That earthquake this week was a mess! And . . . you know how I am about floods, Watson.
Mother's still no-contact. Bertie, meanwhile, is just trying to get arrested when he goes on dates with Harold in public. What if an officer sees him???
George, Ralph and Alex are trying to get in touch with Aunt Lucy and Uncle Felix, but no luck.
I feel bad for Heppy! It's a wonder if her lawyer doesn't give up immediately! She'll have to make things right.
Speaking of which, Amina pretty much tried to murder me when I came back to school acting like I didn't almost drown . . . I'm never making that girl angry again.
Did you contact the Demon Prosecutor? Was all that research worth it? Is he as intimidating as they make him out to be? Are all those rumours true???
Your very own Holmes,
Daisy
Daisy stared at the letter, reading it over and over and over again until her eyes began to close.
The part about Hepzibah couldn't have been further from the truth.
Daisy risked a glance outside. She instantly regretted that decision.
Water. Water stretching out from Kitty's house as far as the human eye could see.
A flood.
She shivered, then chuckled a little. Who would have thought that she, the Honourable Daisy Wells, would be so terrified of something such as a flood?
She crumpled the sheet of paper and tossed it into the bin in Kitty's room carelessly.
"Daisy? Are you coming downstairs? Dinner's ready and you're worrying Beanpole. You should see her fretting downstairs."
Ah, Lavinia. Right. The only member of the England branch of the detective society that wasn't currently cooped up in the Freebody house during the flood was Hazel.
Speaking of which . . . Daisy might have been too harsh on Hazel.
She sat there, thinking about her Watson, and Lavinia must have noticed, because she gave a gruff smile and nudged Daisy.
"I'm sure she's fine. Hey, she's survived Clementine's bullying, hasn't she?"
Daisy rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm coming."