The young detective gave out a loud growl as he gripped the papers all telling him the same thing. Jack was a teenage prodigy, he was an amazing worker and skilled at solving murders sent his way. Although, problems seemed to arise with Christmas slipping around the corner. Everyone was so focused on the useless holiday that they cared less about a murderer running around on the bitter streets of London. The boy banged his head on his desk and threw the papers on the object to the floor. Not two seconds passed was he surrounded by grounded and floating papers and he sighed. He would have to pick those up. Once again he growled out honestly ready to go home and give up. No one would help him, not while they were all focused on the bullshit known as āfriendshipā and āfamilyā. Jack let his body sludge into his chair as he contemplated what to do. Then, his doors opened. At midnight, the Big Ben ringing twelve times, a lady walked in and Jack was ready. Maybe this lady would be the lead he needed. His own, ugh, Christmas miracle. }