Wiggins wanted to scream. Gone. How? How could Mr. Holmes lose to such an awful man? Moriarty. Wiggins knew all about him. Mr. Holmes didn't want to bother Dr. Watson with such a long case as this, but he would have gone mad not talking to anyone. Wiggins had convinced him to speak. Mr. Holmes told his lead irregular everything he knew about the professor. Now he was dead, gone forever. And Wiggins had to tell the other Irregulars.
He arrived at the basement room at the corner of Baker Street. Mr. Holmes had rented it for them. All the Irregulars were there. They stared at him as he came in. He swallowed hard.
"Wiggins!" Cried Matty, "Come play with us!"
Wiggins couldn't look them in the eyes.
"I…I have some bad news for y'all. It's bout Mr. Holmes. He…he's dead!"
A gasp was heard. Wiggins ran away. He was their leader, they couldn't see him cry. He was supposed to be strong.
He ran till he couldn't run no more. He hadn't been looking were he was going, but he was outside of 221b Baker Street. He fell to his knees and started to sob.
Wiggins had lost his father to an armed robbery. He had lost his mother to the bottle. He had lost his brother to the Thames. He had lost his sister to fever.
Now, he had lost another father to the London criminals. Never again. Never. NEVER!
Wiggins would stop crime. He would be a Yarder. Mr. Holmes had said that the Irregulars were better than the yard. Now the thought struck Wiggins, he would use the Irregulars to make the Yard better.
Wiggins shifted his back against the wall. As he looked up, he saw only one star thought the dense fog. It twinkled brightly, like it was laughing. He whispered under his breath:
"I will become a detective. I will help people. I will make you proud, Mr. Holmes, I promise."
The wind picked up and caressed his face. Wiggins could have sworn that he heard Mr. Holmes say,
"You already have, Inspector Wiggins."