You Gotta Be Joking
by Rondabunny
Returning back home to the Baker Street 221b Holmes was absolutely satisfied with himself. The case was solved, tomorrow he will give the evidence to the astonished client with simple but very clear explanation and voila. On the other hand, he will have to wait for another interesting case which wasn't so pleasing, though he could continue his examination of characteristic of a bullet damage caused by firing underwater from different kind of weapons. The myth of the bullet killing a person underwater has nearly been discredited. Sherlock walked upstairs, took off his coat, hanged it and his hand reached for the evidence in his pocket and stopped abruptly. It felt in the pocket for some time, even turned it out but nothing. The evidence was gone. The detective frowned, sat in his armchair and started thinking where he might have lost it, though the idea was quite absurd. His mind travelled along the streets of London looking at people passing by, marking all the little details and suddenly he sprang up with the words:
"It is impossible!"
At this very moment he grabbed his scarf and coat and immediately ran away leaving a very amazed Mrs. Hudson downstairs staring through the window at his silhouette moving down the street.
In the evening Holmes came home overwhelmed by the failure to find what he was looking for.
"Unbelievable!" he exclaimed storming the room and plopping on the sofa without taking any of his outerwear off. "Like a needle in a bottle of hay!"
"What?" Dr. Watson asked slightly distracted from reading the evening newspaper.
"The grey-eyed girl, dressed in an elegant lavender coat, woolen tights, and high leaver black boots with lacing." Holmes explained.
"I thought you were searching the documents that were stolen by some kind of manager from an international company." John said nonchalantly.
"I've got the documents until I came home at lunch today. She took them, no one else could!" He responded furiously.
"Wait a second, you've met a girl who was smart enough to take the documents from you and you haven't noticed? Who is she another Miss Adler?" Now Watson was really interested in this person.
"Adler has blue eyes." He answered crustily ignoring his friend's comment.
"Has blue eyes? She's dead more than a year. I remember giving you her phone when Mycroft gave me the files and now you're telling me that she has blue eyes instead of 'had'."
"Oh, it's a slip of the tongue! Don't find fault in all of my words! I need to find this girl no matter what!" Sherlock deflected knowing quite well where THE WOMAN was right now.
"So, how did she flash you that you can describe her in detail but didn't see how she took the documents away?" He asked partially puzzled partially mocking at Holmes.
"I think she did it by mistake a little girl about 8 or 9 years-old. Maybe she bet with her fiends that she will pick the pocket of a stranger and he won't notice it." Sherlock supposed.
"You're saying that you've been robbed by a little girl?" This became more and more unusual.
"She didn't look like a beggar or a vagabond or any orphan child that's wandering the streets. She stumbled passing by and I was quick enough to hold her not to fall. She apologized, said she was following her mother and disappeared in the crowd." He replayed the incident again and again.
"I'm sorry but this is the ABC of pick-pocketing."
"John, I know this. That's why I excluded all other people that I saw today in the streets." He replied still irritated with himself. "Fine, I have to inform our client that I'm on the right way."
John could hardly hide his laughter looking at the very annoyed face of the detective.
"It can be true!" Sherlock passed from one corner to the other of his room in the morning. His breakfast tea and toasts were completely forgotten.
"What? This girl turned to be from a royal family?" Dr. Watson was standing in the doorway ready to leave for his shift at the hospital.
"No, either she is manipulated by an intelligent adult or she has IQ above average, if it's of course 'she'."
The latter comment made John think: "It seems to me incredible Sherlock Holmes loses his grip. A child that fooled the unsurpassed detective, I think, that would be worth reading."
"I promise that today in the evening this…" He stopped for a second slightly confused but immediately continued, - "child will be our guest."
Somewhere in the East End of London,
He saw the child in the street. She was disguised like a boy in jeans, parka and a baseball cap. Her hair was covered by the cap. She was helping a currier who brought some kind of products to a small shop when she noticed Holmes walking along the street and looking at her. Without hesitation she ran.
"Hey, Billie! Wait!" the detective cried but she didn't stop.
They were running for several minutes when the child realized that the man is coming closer. So, she turned into a narrow side street and disappeared in the house. The chase continued till the roof, then to the other roof. Holmes noticed the easiness of all her movements. She jumped and climbed, clutched at jogs and maneuvered bypassing the roughness of the area. He had just to stretch a hand and he would take her by the collar but without hesitation she jumped down a two-storied building. He watched her crushing with a thud on the pavement. She rolled, let out a short and painful yelp and ran away. He knew that it would be stupid to follow her because until he would get down from this building she would be long gone.
"Damn!" he uttered hastily.
It took him and his army of homeless four hours to find her shelter. She was hiding in the building adjoining the bakery. Once it was a factory now just a deserted old building that was too damaged for homeless people to use it as a temporary dosshouse. You couldn't get inside it except through a small hole in brickwork too narrow for an adult but big enough for a child to fit. The only other way to its basement was through the bakery which, of course, she never used. When she heard the sounds of steps she sat still. It would be silly to escape. She already knew that somebody was staying outside in case if she wanted to escape.
"Hello, Billie," Sherlock said appearing in the dim light left from a small bulb that illuminated the place. "Or maybe Kate or Betty?"
"I was named after the queen," she pronounced.
"I strongly doubt it, nevertheless, nice to meet you. Smart shelter. The heating pipe from the bakery is long enough to warm this wall, you have here the light, oh, and you can even cook food." Sherlock paid attention to the two bared wires jutting out from the wall and an electric fryer. "Very smart!"
"I wouldn't say so," the child replied.
"Why?"
"You're here. If you need your stupid purse it's over there." She showed him the box in the corner. "By the way, why do you have a woman's purse?"
"It isn't mine. I carry mine in the inset pocket. This was for my client." He found the needed purse in an amount of different wallets and fished out a flashcard that was made in a shape of an ordinary bank card. "Why don't you sell credit cards? On the credit cards people have more than in cash. You could have your interest."
"Cash is enough for me. With credit cards I would be dependent on criminals. I don't wanna owe anybody anything." She said. "If it was all what you want then you may go. Thank you for the visit."
"You're wandering the streets for a short period of time. You have an eidetic memory and your IQ is above average because you used different names and disguise in different parts of the city. In the East End you look as a boy but in the center of London you're a girl from the rich family named Kate. You have various shelters in every part of the town. You've studied in a private school because of your excellent English and gymnastic skills but something happened and you ran away from home. You try hard to live on your own but as a child you don't have many possibilities to be independent, so you already started degrading. You may last this way for one or two weeks because the winter is coming, like it or not, but you'll have to ask some adult for help." He concluded.
"Thank you for an excellent observation of my present and prospects of my future, though I would like you to leave me alone." She asked him almost politely.
"Soon you won't be able to shove through that hole."
"Like Alice in Wonderland I will take a shrinking potion," she mocked.
"Come with me, I'll try to help."
"Uh-huh, you'll put me in some kind of orphanage or in some stupid foster family. Go away, I don't need your help."
"Listen, with the broken arm you won't be able to pick pockets. It is the mid of November. Tomorrow will be snowing, in few days you will realize that you need help." Sherlock tried to convince the silly girl.
"Why do you need this?" She asked suspiciously.
"You're an interesting specimen. Besides, you may help me with some experiments. I was always curious about the possibilities of human memory."
"So, I'm a guinea pig for you?"
"Consider it to be your payment for the room," proposed the detective.
"Will I have my own room?" the girl asked eagerly.
"No," followed the answer.
The child frowned but collected some of her things in the bag and went after the man.
At the Hospital
"This is Betty, you know the grey-eyed girl I was searching. Though, I'm still not sure if it's her name. Can you take care of her hand while I'm meeting with the client and giving him the docs. She jumped from a two-storied building which was not very smart to do," Sherlock pushed the girl into the examination room and immediately closed the door after him.
"Dr. John Watson," he introduced himself.
"Elizabeth Smith. Nice to meet you."
221B Baker Street
"I made the bed downstairs. A girl can't sleep in one room with a man, especially, with your manners Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson said firmly.
"Why? Is he a pedophile?" the child inquired.
"What? My God! Where did you pick up those awful words?!" the old woman said disdainfully.
"Street lexicon is much varied than that we are taught in the boarding schools, Mrs. Hudson." The girl replied.
"Sometimes in the morning I like to wander naked in my room after shower. It helps me thinking." Holmes commented.
"Why, garments weight upon your brain? I'd sleep downstairs with pleasure." She turned to Mrs. Hudson.
"Interesting, is it your acerbic tongue or you're just citing some kind of a book? Children don't usually make jokes, especially, sarcastic jokes. Foolish, yes, but not sarcastic. I presume you've read it somewhere." The man looked at the girl.
"Have you already started your experiment?"
"What kind of experiment?" Dr. Watson interrupted their dialogue.
"He wants to understand the depth of my memorizing ability." She explained.
"No, we'll begin tomorrow. Today you had a lot of adventures. It may damage the accuracy of the results." Sherlock replied.
"I'm not tired," the kid deflected.
"Good night, Betty." The detective said firmly.
"Good night, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson." She went downstairs.
I'm not sure if I should continue this piece. Please, review the story if you like or don't like it. It'll help me understand what to do further. Thank you! Merry Christmas!