Chapter2

As the boy kept watching me, I felt it was hard to pretend not to mention him. I looked up, smiled at him in a way that I thought was polite enough for a stranger. "Hello, would you mind I sit here?"

The boy shook his head slightly and started to put the cards away.

"William or Waldon? " He asked suddenly.

"Hh?"

"You have a 'w' on your wristband. Is that the abbreviation of your name? People in Australia usually have those two names" said the boy in a flat tone as if he was talking about the weather.

I looked down at my wristband unconsciously and realized what I was doing suddenly, "How do you know I've been to Australia?" I asked curiously. The number of the sentences I said to him then was no more than two, how could he know I spent my childhood in Australia.

"Your skin was suntan. Although it is turning to the original color, it still indicates that you have been exposed to the sun for a long time. The color is not common in Britain, right? " He paused and he twisted the cup on the table. "I confirmed myself when you asked me how I know, the 'how' sounds like 'ow' when you speak very fast. That is a special sign of Australian accent. "

I was so surprised that I almost forget how to blink my eyes. I tried to find a proper word in my mind to reply him, finally I said, "You are acute."

"Acute? No, no, far away from acute." he frowned and shook his head, "Your hair is tidy, perhaps being cut recently. You don't allow the bangs to block your eyes cause you have a self-disciplined and prudent personality. " he sat straight up, cleared his throat and continued, "More details. You have a happy family. But you are a little worried about your…mother, I guess, maybe she's not very well."

My month fell open in horror as if I could put an egg in it. Sapristi! How could he know? How could he know mother is not very well? Did he follow my family? Did he investigate my family? All those questions almost flood every corner of my mind.

Maybe my expression of being frightened amused he, the boy puckered his face in a smile, "Wanna to know why I know? You don't want your brother to drink, but you won't tell your parents about that. The only reason is that you afraid to bother them. Why? Perhaps one of them is not very well. Father doesn't care about these things usually, so the one you cared must be your mother. "

I felt myself being stripped naked and threw into the snow. To be honest, the feeling was not that comfortable. I opened and closed my month like a duck without a word.

"Anything wrong?" he asked urgently as he leaned forward his body like a little child that eager to know how well he did in a test. The expression on his face finally showed the still possessing innocence that suit his age.

"Most are right except one thing" I blinked as I raised my wristband, "My name is John. 'w' means Willington College, my school."

"Owl…" he was vexed at his small mistake, "I should have noticed, you frowned to your brother when he went to drink. He broke the school rules. Of course you like your school."

I burst into the first truly laughter I ever had since I got on the train.

"Why are you observing people like that?" I asked curiously.

"For my career" claimed the boy with a severe countenance, "I am practicing now. One day, I will be better than Mycroft. By the way, Mycroft's my brother."

I nodded. Totally understand the desire of being better than the order brother. In fact, I had thought to myself for thousands of millions of times, I can do better than Henry, much much better.

"One day, I will be the one. I will be unique and extraordinary" he said with confidence as if he was the proud King of Rome, saying 'Veni Vidi Vici' when he defeated the enemy. I was still immersed in the imagery of a young general in flowing robes directing the army, gaining ground until the boy continued, "Even the Scotland needs me!"

"What? Scot-wait, then what do the police do? " I asked incredibly. What would the Scotland asked you for help? Guessing where the suspects come from? There are countless polices to solve cases, why they need your help? I swallowed back the rest words in the tip of my tongue.

"Simplify the establishment, leave the clearest one and god bless the government." He became more and more ecstatic. I felt that my eyebrows were almost going to raise up to the hair line.

"You don't believe me." He noticed my expression and smiled.

I decided to tell the truth, "It's hard."

He was not offended. Instead, the smile on his face turned into a jolly laugh. "It seems that I should take out my true skill." He gave me a hint with his eyes to look at the table behind me. I turned back. Sitting there was a matronly lady wearing a large jade necklace and a young man in black, as the old lady asked something strictly, the man repeated haltingly with trepidation. Although I didn't know what they were talking about, I was firmly sure the topic could never be a happy one.

"What can you tell about the respected lady and her adopted son?" The boy's voice had turned into a low squeal.

"Adopted son?" I was confused again, "Enlighten me."

"They acted in an estranged way." He responded quickly. "While the old lady giving the man a dressing-down likes a host instead of a mother, he just listens to her without any refutation. Maybe he is her relative and selected as an adopted son to inherit her property after her death. "

I was impressed. He then pointed to a man sitting by the window next to us and went on, "How about this man?"

I tried to observe the man in the boy's method. With an emaciated face seemed that being squeezed by the door, the man swathed in a worn coat even in the warm carriage and huddled up in the chair. He held a copy of The Times, but his attention was obviously not on the newspaper as he kept looking at the old lady and her son like a thief in the night every two minutes.

"Strange…" I weighed my words, "poor, lackadaisical, not a good one." I finally got my conclusion.

The boy nodded slowly and then shook his head, "He is poor now, but he used to be rich. Look at his hat clearly, it is made of furry wool, very experience material, but the stains on it shows that he hasn't wash it for a long time. He had lost his money. " The boy paused for a moment, tapping the table slightly, "Look at the dent on his middle finger, it is a sign of indulging in gambling as holding dice. But as the dent is turning light, he must have stopped gambling recently. May be he want to be a good one again."

That makes sense. I thought. But it still does not explain the strange behavior of looking at others furtively.

"His sneaking manner," the boy said as if he could read my mind, "the only reason is that the lady has something he want…I don't know what it is now." he chuckled like a small satisfied cat licking its paw before playing with the rat, "But it seems that the trip is not boring anymore."

I didn't know what he was talking about. The door of the carriage was slowly creaking open as the waiter came in with some cigar cases and tea pots on the cart. He passed us quickly and walked directly to the table of the lady and her son when they lady said they ought to leave with the load voice that everyone could hear. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the man in worn coat put down his newspaper immediately and left his table.

Suddenly, a series of crashing of porcelains like sudden thunder startled me. I jumped and turned back quickly to see what happened. The man in worn coat was lying on the ground with his hand tightly grabbed a portion of the table linen. All the cookies, teacups and vase were scattered. Some fragment of chinaware pricked into his hand which made him rolling on the ground with pain. The storm out of nowhere appealed to other passengers, they frowned as the man still groaning like a lamb. They turned to a nonchalant face as if they had never been drew attention by the noise. The waiter finally remembered to help the man up. I turned back and noticed the boy was still on his seat, staring the center of the farce with his hand clasped intertwined against his month.

I felt a little shame of being disturbed so easily. Then I heard the cry of the old lady as harsh as nails scraping the blackboard.

"My necklace! Where's my necklace?"