Before I let you read my first chapter there are a couple things I need to say/do. First this is my first time publishing a fan fiction, but hopefully not the last time either. I have written pieces before but didn't like how they worked and got rid of them actually. So please read and review for my sanity's sake. I should be posting about once every other week, or if you're lucky once a week but i will promise every other week barring exams and essays being due.
Disclaimer: I am not Robert Louis Stevenson, that would be a brilliant trick though! I own nothing except for Mr. Hale and a few events in the future. This is the only time I will write the disclaimer though.
And without further ado what you really wanted, the story.
Mr. Utterson, a man of few emotions, and even fewer in words. Though still a kind man, one who was pleasant enough to be around. Though nothing about his seeming indifference would suggest it he had an altogether human side, manifested in his actions, rather than his words. He was inclined to help, in any case, rather than reproach any man. He had friends certainly, but they were those that came of convenience, as a lawyer there were many such friends, or rather acquaintances. His closest friends were those he had known the longest, few in number and mainly consisting of his companions from childhood and his kinsmen. Mr. Enfield, a distant kinsman could be called a close friend. Though the pair seemed to have nothing in common, they could still be seen every Sunday, whilst on their weekly walk. For the most part they remained silent. To those who encountered them they looked rather dull, but at the appearance of a friend their relief was evident. But for all of this the two enjoyed these walks the most of their entire week, and each chose to forgo both pleasure and business alike so that they might enjoy their walk without interruption.
By chance alone on one such walk they encountered an unusual sight on the streets of London. A man, near to their own age, but who somehow seemed different by some merit, neither could figure. Now this man was helping a small girl, who, was for some unknown reason, screaming. Nothing too unusual, but certainly nothing ordinary either. Mesmerized the pair watched the man, what was unusual was how extraordinarily kind this man seemed, to a street urchin nonetheless. This was what made the encounter so unusual, what man of some class will stop to dirty himself on a street, stooping down to the ground so as to be at eye level with the child. Yes they figured there was indeed something odd about this man. And as suddenly as they had happened upon the man he had vanished, behind some street corner, somewhere. But neither cared to try to follow and so continued on their way. As they were walking Enfield, having recalled a similar encounter with a man, of similar stature and feature, and so he recounted to Utterson what he had seen no more than two weeks prior.
"A child, no older than this girl, had been run into by a juggernaut of a man, one no one recognized, but he continued on his way, with haste, toward that door, without even looking back he entered into the door and was not seen for the remainder of the incident, indeed it seemed as though he had vanished. Upon seeing the child, in obvious pain, howling, for his mother no doubt this man carried the child to the nearest doctor, paying for the visit himself, without regard to cost or repayment. No hesitation at all I tell you! And once the bill had been settled he left without another word. I had overheard the man speaking with the doctor and heard him mention his name, Mr. James Hale as I recall it was.
"How strange indeed" replied Mr. Utterson when Enfield had finished recounting his story. I do not think we have seen the last of this man. And on this the pair parted ways until the following Sunday.
But indeed there was a look about this Hale, one that both had noticed. They could see no imperfections in the slightest, none that they could perceive at the very least. But still something seemed odd, something was not quite right, but neither knew what it was, a certain wariness for his instant likeability seemed probable to Utterson, one that seemed quite unfamiliar however. But he shrugged it off, and decided to think no more of it.
Enfield however he tried was unable to put the incidents from his mind, musing aloud on the subject to no one but himself saying; "How dare he make a mockery of being a gentleman, so overly generous and kind. This will be the end of this man, if I do say so myself, jealousy and pride and greed being a prominent feature of a gentleman in this day. And gentlemen do not take well to insult direct or perceived." The more he thought on the subject the more it incensed him. He continued to fume well into the night. It was then he remembered how mysterious and unclear each situation was. This seemed to pacify the man and he decided to give in to his increasing weariness, but deep inside his mind he could not forget the odd occurrences.