A/N: this is for Hades LotD's Challenge of Awesomeness.

Today's prompt is from Inner Titan: A boy shows up at 221B Baker Street half dead and terrified. He seems to have witnessed a horrible crime. There's just one obstacle to find out what the boy has seen: he has become mute from shock, and is illiterate.

Warning! My characters are out of character.

One morning in late January as I was reading my morning paper snugly sitting in my chair by the fire. When I heard knock on the door, assuming Mrs Hudson was on her way down the stairs by now, I remained in my seat. Then I heard a shriek of utter shock and fear, that pushed me out of my chair, and forced me down the stairs to see what had caused it.

Obviously I was not the only one following this motion, for coming down the stairs close on my heels was Holmes.

The sight that beheld me was horrific. Mrs Hudson was kneeling down in front of a young boy, didn't look any more then six, the boy was lying absolutely still. As I moved closer, to examine the boy I saw he was breathing, barely, but never the less he was, turning around I saw Holmes hopping from foot to foot waiting for something to do, quickly I gave him his orders.

"Run up stairs fetch my kit and make room on the lounge, I'm bringing the boy up. He's alive!"
Upon hearing the good news, Holmes hurried up the stairs to do as I asked, while Mrs Hudson, seeing things were under control, went into the kitchen to prepare something.

While I hoisted the boy up into my arms, only to find out it was hardly worth the effort, the boy barely weighed as much as a feather.

As I carried him into the main room, I saw Holmes bustling about clearing up the room, my kit already sitting precariously on the lounge. I walked across to the lounge, dodging Holmes as he zoomed past me. I slowly settled the half dead boy on the lounge and hastily put my medical kit on the floor before it fell off. As I proceeded to check the boy over, I felt the presence of Holmes hovering over me. As reached a conclusion, I turned around and gave Holmes the results he was waiting for. "He will live, but he is not well enough to move, and will have to stay here for a while."

Two hours later the young boy awoke.

"Praise the Lord!" Mrs Hudson exclaimed, before running downstairs to prepare some chicken soup.

"Hello," I said slowly approaching the he moved away from me, not saying a word. Then the poor boy got a great shock when Holmes appeared behind him, jabbering on about who knows what.

"Holmes," I said harshly, trying to get him to leave.

"Yes Watson?" he asked obviously not noticing the boy. Realising this, I gestured towards the boy, trying to hint him of his presence. Understanding dawned in the mans eyes, before he slowly backed away into the kitchen.

"It's all right son, I won't hurt you," I said soothingly, trying to calm him down. It seemed to have worked for the boy once again settled down. But it disturbed me that the boy wan't speaking. The boy as dressed in rags, which indicated he was from he slum. I would expect those boys to not be able to read or write, but talk? That is a different matter, I decided I would ask Holmes, I wanted to get to the bottom of this.

Once the boy had finished his soup he had settled down, to some extent. He was still skittish, but there was still a glimmer of hope.

I thought it might be time to get some answers, "Son, what's your name?" I asked offering him a soft toy. The boy quickly grabbed the toy with and snuggled further into the blanket.

I continued to tell myself 'he must be able to talk', for the next two weeks. Until, on the first day of February when I asked him, "Son what's your name?" then hearing no reply, I started to walk away, then behind me I heard a young voice say, "Will."

My eyes shot wide open, and I quickly spun around, as I did, the little boy dove back into his blanket. "Son, what's your name?" I asked voice shaking with anticipation.

Then two big green eyes poked out from underneath the blanket and he said, "Will."

Upon hearing words uttered from his mouth, I clapped my hands together. Then ran out of the room in search of Holmes and Mrs Hudson, yelling, "He can talk! He can talk!"

I found Mrs Hudson in the kitchen, and I quickly grabbed her. As I entered the main room again, Mrs Hudson in tow, I saw Holmes tickling the young boy, he was calling for help, so I quickly intervened, "Holmes, stop! The boy is still not full cured."

"Well my dear Watson with your fine medical skills I do believe he is quite fine, it has been two weeks." Holmes said, breaking all my dreams that this little bundle of joy would have to leave us soon.

"Therefore," Holmes continued, "I will go down to inquire at Scotland yard. The boy...Will, was obviously witness to some horrible crime, if not the victim. So we must care for the boy until all this is over."

"I agree most strongly," I said, then realising I had answered too quickly with too much enthusiasm, I tried to justify my actions, without making clear my new found affection for the green eyed bundle of wavy brown hair called Will. "Um, I mean, yes we should look after this young lad, for what if the criminal receives word that Will is a witness, he may go after him, and we can't just release the boy out onto the streets, he can't even be seven.

"I could tell this weighed heavily on Holmes.

So the weeks turned into months as we continued the search for the criminal, the boy still would not talk of what had happened. Each time I mentioned it, he would skulk away.

However the most unusual thing is, whenever we went to a crime scene to investigate whether or not a person was responsible, he would say no, and just walk away, not even bothering to explain.

Something changed in Holmes, something I can't explain, it's like he actually cares for the boy.
All was going along fine, until the day when Holmes couldn't deny, this was the criminal. We didn't need the boy anymore, Scotland yard had found Will's guardian, an Uncle or something, and Will would be going there.

It was a sad day as we said goodbye to the little bundle of joy, I think I even saw a tear in Holmes's eye, like he'd admit it but it was a dreary day, not even the sun would shine when the young boy left.

"Cheer up Holmes!" I said one day, a week later sad I saw him stare sadly at the lounge.

"Cheer up," Holmes said, offended, "I haven't had a case for days! I cannot stand this boredom!" Holmes yelled standing up from his seat.

Feeling the foreboding silence in the room, I decided it was not healthy for Holmes to stay in this state. So I walked over to his violin, brought it out of it's case and attempted to do what I've never done before. I brought out the stick thing, and started to play it. It was a dreadful noise as I started to play, but I had a mission, I had to cheer Holmes up so I continued to play, and now that I had Holmes' attention, I started to sing.

Might I say, Holmes did not fancy either my playing or my singing, but I completed my mission, Holmes started to chuckle at first, then laugh, and it turned out to be a jolly fine day.

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