Welcome to London!

  London never truly slept. Even in the dead of

  night, the city pulsed with life ,faint neon reflections shimmered on wet streets, and the Thames (river that flows through southern England including London)flowed like a slow, dark mirror under the bridges, catching every streetlight.. Fog curled between the lampposts, softening the edges of the familiar making the streets feel strange and otherwordly. The distant rumble of the Underground was like a steady heartbeat beneath the city, constant and unstoppable, reminding anyone awake that London had stories no one would ever tell.

  Rain whispered against rooftops, slicking the cobblestones and glinting across the metal of the parked cars. The smell of wet asphalt(used for paving the roads) mingled with the faint scent of exhaust, a combination Iris always noticed on late night cases ,that sharp, electric smell of the city's secrets.

  Even when nothing was wrong,

  London felt alive, alert, watching.

  In quieter neighborhoods, shutters were drawn and the streetlight swayed in the wind.

  Yet ?the city's pulse carried on ; drivers' headlights cutting through the mist, cyclists'

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  bells echoing in narrow alleys and a distant church bell marking time in slow.

  London was beautiful and chaotic in equal measure, and Iris knew every corner of it like a map in her mind.

  Iris Bell lived on the fifth floor of a modern apartment building along a quiet stretch of Southbank. Her flat was spotless. Every book was neatly lined on the shelves, every surface clean and shiny. There was no clutter. A single mug sat on the kitchen counter, a faint stain of cold tea inside. The sofa cushions were perfectly in place, and the floor gleamed.

  Iris herself matched her home: organized,controlled and very precise. There were no distractions, no signs of chaos. Even the lighting had been chosen with care, soft and warm in the evenings, bright and clear in the mornings.. Life outside her walls could be messy however; inside, everything had its place.

  Abstract paintings in muted colors hung on the walls, and a small digital frame displayed photos of friends and colleagues. Her personal touch was subtle but present, her plants are sitting in their tidy pots, and a single scented candle on the shelf as her owner, and a worn leather jacket hanging on the coat stand, ready whenever she needed it.

  She was there alone standing near the window drowned in her own thoughts ,adjusting the sleeves of her dark shirt, even her movements were calm and deliberate. She was tall and slender, with sharp features softened by tired but observant eyes that missed very little. Her dark hair was pulled back neatly, revealing a composed face that rarely betrayed emotion.

  There was a quiet strength in the way she carried herself ,controlled, steady, and unmistakably alert.

  This was the only place where chaos could not reach her!