Chapter Text
It all began when snow-covered streets of Moscow still waited for spring. For Anisii Tulipov, the day was as ordinary as any other: stacks of paperwork, case files, letters he needed to respond to. Everything was in order, except for the quiet sadness that had taken root in his heart.
Erast Petrovich was gone.
He had to go away for an entire week, chasing a new mystery. This man was truly mad. All it took was reading something odd in a newspaper for him to be ready to investigate it himself, always eager to dive into another adventure. But this time it was something different entirely. He was asked by a nobleman, Count Mishkov, to come to Sankt Petersburg and find his wife’s diamond brooch, which was believed to be stolen. And so the Count decided to ask the brilliant detective, known for his sharp mind and unconventional, methods to find the culprit.
Anisii wanted to go, too. He had never been much outside Moscow before and the prospect of sharing this experience with Erast Petrovich was deeply appealing. But Chief had other plans. He took only Masa and told Tulipov to take care of everything here in the old capital city. Anisii was very disappointed, but obeyed. What else could he possibly do?
As he sat in Fandorin’s study, engrossed in another file, he caught himself thinking constantly about Erast Petrovich. He wondered whether he was alright, whether the journey went well. Maybe he regretted not taking his loyal assistant with him. Anisii did not really believe that, but it was pleasant to think so.
He would only be a burden anyway.
He reached for his tea and tried very hard not to spill it, as he often did. Especially when Erast Petrovich as much as looked at him. He sighed. It was a strange thing, knowing that everything was fine but still… missing the one person who made you feel like a better version of yourself. He shook his head trying to compose himself. He had to get back to work.
He stood up and went to the cabinet. He needed to check the address of one of the witnesses and he knew that Fandorin had it written down somewhere in one of his notebooks. Anisii had always admired Chief for being so well organised: he himself was unable to keep anything in order.
Tulipov bent down and started searching, his eyes scanning the covers of leather volumes. Every one of them was dark except for one. This one was light red and it caught his attention immediately. His hand hesitated over it. Would it be appropriate to take it? He was allowed to use the professional ones, but that particular one felt more… intimate. And it looked very inviting.
He took the book and opened it on the first page.
‘14.01.1883
I am glad I came back to Moscow. I haven’t even realised that I missed it…’
He closed it abruptly. It was Erast Petrovich’s private notebook. His diary. Anisii was rather surprised. He never thought Chief was the kind of person who would write down his thoughts, rather some useful information concerning cases. Or perhaps he would rather keep them in his own brilliant mind.
That was interesting.
He wanted to look at the page again but stopped himself. He mustn’t to that. It would be deeply inappropriate to read it, especially if Erast Petrovich trusted him enough to leave it in his study. And Anisii valued that trust more than anything in the world.
Still… It was tempting. And would it be so bad if he read just one page? Chief would not find out anyway anyway.
Anisii took the book and opened it on the first page again. The first entry was from four years ago, before they had even met yet.
‘14.01.1883
I am glad I came back to Moscow. I haven’t even realised that I missed it; the sound of carriage wheels on the cobblestones, the faint scent of food from the market. Its vibrant energy.
Over the past six years, I have grown rather fond of Japan, especially since Masa became my constant companion and friend. It taught me many things. But I could not stay there any longer. I had to go back home.
Now I am the Deputy for Special Assignments to His Excellency the Governor-General, Prince Dolgorukoi which suits me well; at least I am not bored.’
Anisii smiled to himself. It was an interesting thing: as he read the diary, he could almost hear Fandorin’s deep, calm voice - his matter-of-fact way of speaking but with the warm undertone that Anisii had come to cherish. It felt as if Erast Petrovich were here with him, telling him stories from his life he had never shared with him before.
He shouldn’t be reading that.
Tulipov was about to put it back into place, but hesitated. Something was pulling him towards the diary. Maybe he was curious. Maybe it was an excuse not to get down to work. But mostly he was lonely. And he missed Erast Petrovich.
He wanted to learn more about this beautiful man full of secrets.
So he opened it and started reading the next entry.
‘22.05.1883
I have been here for a few months now and I have already managed to make some dangerous enemies. One of them is Count Tolstoy who came today from Sankt Petersburg. He demanded from me to tell him all the details about the case I was occupied with. I did not like his condescending tone, as if I were an ordinary clerk and not someone Governor-General relied on. I reminded him calmly but firmly that I was not obliged to tell him anything. Maybe I had said it too harshly, but I do not regret it.’
Anisii closed the diary quickly, feeling his cheeks burn a little. He could imagine this scene: Erast Petrovich standing tall and proud, Tolstoy humbled and angry. He wished he had seen it with his own eyes.
But this already felt too intimate. He should not read any further. Erast Petrovich trusted him enough to let him into his house during his absence. He had asked him to take care of everything. He valued him.
Reading this was like a betrayal. But still Anisii couldn’t resist the pull towards the diary. He wanted to know him better, understand him better.
And maybe, this way, get a little closer to him.
Suddenly, an idea came to him. He could find the entries from the day when they first worked together. Let us see what Erast Petrovich had written about him. He flipped the pages eagerly, seeking the right date. And there it was.
‘5.04.1886
I did not expect that, but Prince Dolgorukoi suggested that I should have an assistant. I have had a great deal of work recently, that is true, but I have Masa. So why should I need another person here? I am perfectly capable myself. But I agreed eventually. Perhaps I could use some help, after all.
What I did not expect was that my new ‘assistant’ would be so young and, God help me, clumsy.
Anisij Tulipov: 20 years old, rather short and slight. Tousled blonde hair, green eyes. Characteristic features: a dimple on the right cheek, round spectacles that keep falling from his nose. Full of this nervous energy, which will either make him quick-witted and swift in his actions, or completely useless. We shall see.
At our first meeting I couldn’t even greet him before he managed to trip over his own feet and apologise three times. I tried to reassure him, but he was still too nervous.
I do not know what to make of him yet.’
Anisii blinked a few times in surprise. He remembered that day too well. He was extremely nervous, true, but who wouldn’t be, meeting such an incredible man? And such a handsome one? He hoped that Erast Petrovich hadn’t noticed it, but of course he did. He always did.
Still, it hurt a little that Chief didn’t want him at first. He didn’t need him.
So why would he need him now?
He decided it was enough for today. It was already late, and tomorrow he would have new work to do.
Anisii stood up and put the diary back in its place. As he closed the cabinet, he felt a little guilty about reading it.
But he knew that he would read it again tomorrow.