The Lone Boy
Kerin Street
1877
"You are certain that he is here, Mister Holmes?" Inspector Lestrade asked.
Sherlock Holmes, a far cry from his future, hooked-nosed self, nodded.
"I am certain, Lestrade. You will find your burglar in that building."
"Actually," an unknown voice said "Yer wrong."
Both men turned. A young boy, barely in his adolescence, or otherwise extremely old-looking for his age, was standing there, bouncing a rag ball up and down.
"Excuse me, child? Did you say something?" Holmes asked.
"Yeah. Yer wrong. 'ssuming, that is, the person yer looking for is a bloke in 'is late twenties, least 5 foot 6, left 'anded and carrying something at least 25lbs. If so," here he gestured grandly at an old abandoned warehouse at the riverside "then 'e's in there. 42 Kerin Street"
Both the detective and the inspector stared at the boy incredulously.
Holmes eventually cleared his throat "How do you know this, boy?"
"Simplicity itself." The boy answered "There I was, sitting in me usual spot, when this man comes from where you just came from. Out of breath, 'e looks. Looks 'bout twenty-five, rather big. Walks over the road, 'awards the warehouse, knows on the door with 'is left 'and. 'nother bloke opens the door, lets 'im in. Then you two comes 'round the bend, lookin' fer somein'. Probably the bloke what just came round."
Both Lestrade and Holmes regarded the boy with incredulity.
"How old're you, son?" Lestrade asked
"'eventy Three." The boy answered with a straight face.
"How did you deduce the weight of what he was carrying?" Holmes asked
"Simple. I saw that one of his 'ootsteps were deeper in the clay then the other, and… deduced, did ye call it? Deduced, then, the weight. Now, ye gonna arrest 'im, or am I gonna 'ave ta do it for ya?"
The thief had been caught. The item had been returned to its owner. As Holmes watched Lestrade cart the thief towards the nearest police station, he caught something speeding at him rather fast. Quick as a flash, his hand extended and caught it, studying it. It was a rag ball, brightly coloured red.
"Good reflexes." a voice said behind him
Holmes turned to see the boy he had encountered before standing behind him, arms crossed over his chest.
"You're remarkably well-spoken for a street urchin." Holmes remarked
The boy shrugged "I try to put on an accent to make people underestimate me."
"What do you mean?" Holmes asked
The boy rolled his eyes "No-one notices the homeless children. We pass unnoticed by the world at large. Something one such as you could profit from."
Holmes tilted his head, contemplating the boys words. Deciding they had merit, he offered the boy his hand
"Sherlock Holmes. And you are?"
The boy considered his hand for a moment then spat on his own and shook it firmly.
"Jonathan Wiggins, Mr Holmes. But," He grinned a gap-toothed grin at Holmes "Call me Jonny."
Holmes nodded, self-consciously wiping the spittle onto his coat
"Pleasure to meet you, Wiggins."
Wiggins smiled at Holmes "Same here, Mr Holmes."
