In the cells of the Greenwich police station, the sound of smacking the iron bars echoed, occasionally interrupted by a woman's hoarse, raspy scream.
Tom and Tony, guarding outside the cell door, couldn't help but shake their heads as they clasped their foreheads.
Tom complained, "It's been a week now, why won't she quiet down?"
Tony curled his lip, "Who knows what magic that opium sedative has, when we don't give it to her, it's like we're taking her life."
Tom helplessly said, "If it really comes to that, let's just buy her a bottle. She keeps making a fuss inside, and it's driving me crazy."
Tony glared at him, "Do you want to disobey Arthur's orders? Besides, didn't Arthur explain clearly? It's called withdrawal reactions. Once this period is over, she should start feeling better."
Tom sighed, "This is the first time I'm grateful that I took Scotland Yard's internal regulations seriously. If I hadn't stuck to the no drinking rule, I might have got hooked on that stuff too."