Fic: sketchwork (April Fic Challenge)

[csi_sanders1129]

Title: sketchwork
Chapters: 1/1
Author:csi_sanders1129
Ratings: K+
Word Count: 795
Pairings/Characters: John Moore, Laszlo Kreiszler, Sara Howard, Isaacsons.
Synopsis: In which John absently sketches during a lull in a case.
Comments: Written for my April Fic Challenge 2021, Prompt: Draw. First try at Alienist fic, this was written before seeing S2 or reading the book, so apologies for any inconsistencies there. Comments and kudos would be awesome. Enjoy!

John watches on as Laszlo and the Isaacson brothers debate the merits of the latest developments in varying forensic techniques, absently scribbling in his notebook as the afternoon passes them by. They're waiting for Sara to return with the employment records they've sent for from several hospitals around the city, sure that the details they have about their newest case will somehow connect to an employee from a medical field.

It's been a while since he's had time to draw freely. His work for the society pages comes less and less often these days – a development he's been perfectly happy with, given that he's been leaning more toward the written word than the posed portraiture of snobby elites. He's drawn for Laszlo, of course, on several cases now. The latest of which has pulled him at a moment's notice first from a sound sleep, and then from a dinner date, and just this morning from a breakfast with his grandmother to visit progressively more gruesome crime scenes and sketch out all the gory details of the bodies left behind at them. Laszlo's even sent him to the morgue with Marcus and Lucius to draw the findings of the autopsies for later review.

So, he revels in this opportunity. Absent charcoal doodles shift to a genuine sketch, his eyes flicking up now and then to gaze at his unwitting subject to pick up all the little details. He lets the portrait come to life before him, following the lines of Laszlo's determined face as he listens intently to Marcus's explanation of how a fingerprint database might work should the New York Police Department choose to start one.

He loses himself in his project, oblivious to the others as Laszlo points out the potential shortcomings of such a system. As John works, simple lines and some limited shading shift into a fair likeness of the doctor standing before him. Unprompted and unobserved, John's portrayal of the man is an honest one – not like the illustrations for the Times, where imperfections are so frequently erased so as to better flatter the subjects of his work. Here, John simply draws what he sees, captures Dr. Kreizler's intensity and intellect on the page.

"Impressive work, John," Miss Howard says, catching him off guard with her abrupt appearance beside him. He slams the book shut a bit hastily – very subtle, John, not suspicious at all in a room full of detectives and doctors – and quickly gets to his feet. Sara, along with Stevie and Cyrus who trail in after her, are all carrying rather large boxes of files. She drops hers on the table, already walking them through the leads she'd managed to get out of the Chief of Staff at Lennox Hill once she'd thrown TR's name into the mix.

After that, the room descends into the usual organized chaos of the investigation. They go through file after file, comparing the hospital employees to the profile of their killer for some time, ruling people out and in as they go. They've hit a bit of a lull, though, each of them reading through their own piles of paperwork spread about the table, and John is well aware that Sara's eyes keep catching on his notebook. She is going to ask about the picture.

But, he is spared her curious questions when a runner arrives, sent by Roosevelt to deliver the news of another body found. "Two in one day?" Laszlo demands, already scribbling out more details on his chalkboard, mumbling to himself about escalations and devolutions of the killer's rituals. "John, you go with the Isaacson's to see to the body, Miss Howard and I will continue with the files until you return to us."

John doesn't argue. He knows what he's signed up for at this point, he knows that choosing to be involved with these cases means late nights and early mornings, inopportune calls and surprising interruptions. So, he just gathers up his things and trails after the brothers as they take their leave of Kreizler's residence. Roosevelt's hansom is waiting for them, to take them to the latest crime scene. They climb in and the horse starts off at a rapid pace.

"What's that?" Lucius asks, nodding to the sketch of Laszlo that John quickly shifts to the back of the notebook in an attempt to organize his supplies.

"Nothing," John brushes off the question. Perhaps he will get a chance to finish it later, to chase away whatever nightmare images sketching this new victim will put into his head. Laszlo would likely have a lot say about the psychology of it all should he ever find out, but maybe sketches like that one will be the way he copes with this work – something just for him.