From Sparky Dorian: Wiggins is brought into 221B on the brink of death.
There is a cry of alarm from downstairs followed by footsteps rapidly ascending the stairs. Watson is giving instructions to our late visitor with a note of panic in his normally warm voice.
Curious, I rise from the bed and go to the sitting room to find Wiggins being gently set onto the settee by a constable as Watson hurries to try to mend the pale and still body. He checks vitals for several heart-wrenching moments, trying to pull the boy back from death's chasm, but finally he settles back, an arm over his mouth as he shakes his head slowly and looks up at me, tears welling in his eyes.
My blood runs cold. I hardly know what to think or say and I can only kneel next to Watson and stare at the boy as the constable backs away. I remembered the bright-eyed lad that had proudly reported to me only two days ago that the man I was trying to track was in the hotel he had been watching. I kneel beside the lifeless body and my eyes fix on a small piece of paper that is tucked into the small pocket on his trousers. I slowly pull it out and unfold it, revealing a message addressed to me.
"Next time Mr. Holmes, do not use small boys."