Lad - teenager boy (Britain English).

Yard - around a meter

Sometimes, things from your past come to you in most unpredctable way and at unexcepted time. But let's start with the beginning

It all began 5 years ago, in 1885. The date was July 28. It was a warm sunny Saturday morning. I sat down in our apartment at Baker Street and read the daily newspaper.

"Those scuttlers again!" I said out loud without noticing.

"Well, they are young and hot tempered. They need to release their stress somehow." Holmes didn't sound too interested.

"Being a gangster is one thing, but being a murderer is another."

"True, their fights for respect tend to get out of order."

"It wasn't a fight between scuttling gangs, Holmes. These two were separated from their gangs."

"Let me see." Holmes said as he took the newspaper from my hand.

Though he seemed to read, from time to time his eyes moved towards the window.

"Are you waiting for someone, Holmes?"

"No, but I wouldn't be surprised if he appears. And here he is."

Holmes got nearer to the window, and so did I. We saw a man around 40 clothed like one from the Proletariat. He seemed in a rush, and as Holmes said, he did enter our building. In a short time, we heard the steps. The knock wasn't late to arrive.

"Come in." Holmes said as he brewed him some wine.

The door was opened, and there stood our man. From up close he seemed breathless.

"It's good to see you again, Robert." Holmes pointed a chair "Come, have a sit."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes..." He said as he looked at me.

Now that I looked at him closely, it seemed like the light was gone from his black eyes. He seemed desperate and hopeless. His brown hair and his clothes were a mess, like he came in a great hurry.

"I guess you didn't come because you missed me. It's about your son, isn't it?"

"You already heard the news?" The man held the glass of wine in his hand, wondering if to drink from it.

"It's in the newspaper, in the first page, no less. Don't worry, you can talk to my friend here, Dr. Watson, just as you talk to me.""

"I heard about your great ability. Don't get me wrong, if my son is to blame, I won't ask you to pull him out. But I truly believe his innocence. I will pay any amount."

"Asking money from you will be a crime. I'm enough with the excitement of chasing justice. I just hope it won't end up being to boring. Can you tell me anything?

"Edgar went with some friends. He came up late but I knew he came as he slammed the door. He was restless. He said his only memento from his mother had been stolen. I told him there's nothing to worry about, and what is important is that he treasures her despite never knowing her. He relaxed and went to sleep. Not long after the cops came and arrested him for the murder of Alois Walker. He said he had chased Walker after he had stolen his necklace but couldn't find him. He told them to search for it."

"But it wasn't found." Holmes mumbled.

"Yes, so they blamed him for killing him in order to take it back. I don't believe he's going to complain about his lost memento, when he already found it and took it."

"Why did they blame him in the first place?"

"They said the victim said his name right before he died. It seemed the gangs of the two were in a fight right before it."

"Well, Watson, seems like our days of boredom are over. We'll go talk with the young lad. Go home, Robert, you don't look so well."

"I will do so. I didn't sleep all night. I will be back in shop in by the afternoon."

Our man tipped his hat off and left the room. After he closed the door behing him, Holmes seemed eager to get ready, but I didn't get of my sit yet.

"What is it, Watson? You don't have an interest in my little investigations anymore?"

"I do, but there's something I wonder about. Though his son's name was mentioned in the newspaper, this man's was not. How could you know his name?"

"He's an old acquaintance of mine. He needed money, I needed his help. Good deal for both sides."

"Now it's all clear. Give me a minute, I'll change my clothes and arrange a suitcase." I said and went to my room.

After half an hour, we were outside. Holmes seemed in a good mood.

"It's good to have a sunny day once in awhile! Not too hot, not too cold. Perfect! And because there was no rain since yesterday, it will be easier to find evidence in our crime scene." Holmes said cheerfully.

"In the crime scene? I don't think anything was left since yesterday night."

"Well, no doubt, the body is no longer there, but maybe we will be able to find something else. After all, it's not as if we're having a better start point to begin with."

And so, we walked to the station to take a train to Manchester. We got to the crime scene just around 2 o'clock in the afternoon.

It was the crossing of two allies in one of the poorer neighborhoods of Manchester. By the blood left on the pavement, we could see where the body lied. Holmes took his magnifying glass, crawled on his knees and started to look around. In my point of view, it was pointless. No matter how I looked I couldn't find anything. But in the end, his straightened his back.

"Come here!"

I came nearer. He was 2 yards inside of the alleys. When I came closer, I saw him pointing on a little heap of tobacco.

"You know what does it mean, Watson? Someone waited here. And I won't be surprised if he waited to the victim. It seems he smoked punch cigars,"

"But how could he know he would come across here? After all, it was part of a chase."

"I also keep wondering. It may be the way to his home. The murderer saw the necklace and took it as well. I'd like to say that my theory is complete, but I still feel like there's something missing. We'll try to go to the police and ask them if they can help."