Sherlock Holmes didn't sleep too much that night, as he was walking from one end to the other of his bedroom, awoken by a strange dream. In his dream, he saw a great mountain profiling in front of his eyes, in the dead dark of the night, the moon barely shining. He could catch a sound of small footsteps just a bit further from him position, as he slowly made his way towards the sound. "Another child?" his mind mused as he could discern a silhouette leaning on a tree, as if catching its' breath for a moment. The detective's eyes glinted with hope, as he followed the silhouette through the darkened forest, hearing some whimpers from it, and some ruffling, as if whoever was there searched for something in their pockets. "Oh, there it was," resounded the silhouette's voice, a child's one, no less, as he lit up a pocket lantern. Its' light wasn't enough to break through the darkness, but it gave Holmes quite a view on the child's face - he was caucasian, no less that four feet tall, and had a glimmer of determination in his eyes. The child walked up on a barren pathway that led to the top of the mountain, and Holmes followed, making sure the child didn't know they were watched from behind. He noted some hesitation in the child's actions, as if they weren't really sure about what they were going to do. He could see the child clenching their fist, as if urging themselves to go through with it.
As both child and detective reached the top of the mountain, the latter making sure not to be observed, Holmes noticed the child left the lantern next to his feet, and, after a brief pause, they looked at the sky, at the landscape, before throwing themselves to the abyss below. That image alone was enough for the detective to wake up and comprehend what did he just witness, albeit he didn't put too much stock in such foolish things, like dreams. "Watson, however, would certainly do so," the detective mused. "It is indeed important that we solve this case before another child disappears." Holmes went out of his room to drink a glass of water to ease out his mind, and then returned to pacing in his room until six in the morning, when Watson was usually waking up.

I was gently awoken by the sun rays that passed through the window. I opened the small window and let out some morning fresh air, and then went to wash my face in the small basin just across his bed, and after that, I carefully trimmed my growing beard. Holmes was always awake before me, so I decided I would not appear in my dressing gown and pyjamas. I changed into my usual morning attire, a white shirt, a beige vest, a black tie, beige pants and brown leather shoes. I opened the door and I could see Holmes still in his dressing gown, looking like some sort of lunatic from an asylum, as he gazed down on Baker Street from the windows.

-Good morning, Holmes, I greeted him lightly.

After a brief pause in which the slender detective didn't answer, my state passed from a genuine good mood to one of worry.

- My dear fellow, is something troubling you? I continued to ask, and I thought my voice must've betrayed my worries.

Holmes, after a small hesitation, decided to relieve me of all my worries, as he knew that I wouldn't stop asking what was happening - and I believe, in some ways, he was grateful that I was voicing out my concerns for him.

-I'm just exerting my mind over a rather curious adventure throughout dreamland, Holmes said, making the whole dream sound like something completely trivial.

- You mean, you had a dream? About what was it? I said, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

-You know, Watson, that I do not rely on such things to solve my cases. However, I believe my mind has been taking curious leaps of imagination, Holmes said as he waved his right hand casually. We have a train to catch for today, and I'm not going to waste our time on such trivialities.

- Very well, Holmes. I will ask Ms. Hudson to give us the usual breakfast, I said as I went towards the kitchen, where Ms. Hudson was prepairing breakfast for herself as well.

I was concerned for Holmes' state that whole morning, as just moments later, he changed into his usual grey suit, with black shoes, and he combed his hair in a more civilised manner than before. He sat just opposite of me when Ms. Hudson gladly entered our room with breakfast, and during our meal, I couldn't bring myself to say anything to him, but right then, Wiggins came in with the newspaper of this morning. "Good morning, Mr. Holmes. I brought in the papers, and I kept an ear for you if Mr. Lestrade found anything." Holmes rose his head up at Lestrade's name, making Wiggins tell his story further. "He didn't discover anything much, though. But the papers this morning, seem to know more than the police does," and just as Wiggins said that, my friend rose from the table, handed Wiggins a guinea and gently showed him out the room. "My fears have become real, it seems," Holmes uttered as he glanced towards the paper that said "A SEVENTH CHILD HAS GONE MISSING DOWN MOUNT EBOTT."

- Let us hurry to that train, Watson, he said to me as he picked up his top hat and cane.

Minutes later, we were at the train station, hopping in the train towards Ebott City, in Scotland. The usual landscape of London was slowly fading away from our view, leaving in front of us blooming fields, trees, and a few houses rising in the distance. I gazed at the marvels of nature as they were enveloping in front of us, while Holmes was reading a book he borrowed from Barnes, on ancient German folklore. I raised my eyebrows at this odd choice of Holmes', but I knew by now that my friend had a habit of studying various things that picked up his interest and thought they could help further in his profession. He was also writing various monographies on footprints, tobacco scents and whatever things that would help out fellow detectives in their investigations, and after a minute's gaze on that book, I decided to dismiss my thoughts and leave my mind travel along with the landscapes unveiling themselves before me. Some fifteen minutes later, I was brought back from my reverie by the usual tone of my friend's voice, "I'm glad you haven't said a word about the book I'm reading, Watson. You used to complain that I read awful books with no value for me." and I gently said "Well, maybe I don't find it relevant to our case, but if it helps you, I won't say a word," to which he could leave out a soft chuckle. "Watson, your honesty is much appreciated. You have always thought I would delve myself in studies about a case, and each time I proved you I don't rely on that modus operandi."

About two hours later from that small discussion, the conductor announced "Ebott City, we're in Ebott City!" and we went off the train. At the station, a young constable was waiting for us, in the regular uniform of the British force. He didn't look like he had an easy night, and he greeted us in the familiar Scottish accent, "I was told two detectives will arrive this afternoon from London. Are you from Scotland Yard?" he inquired, seeing our attires, to which my friend searched for a visit card. "No, my dear fellow. I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my friend, Dr. Watson."

- Pleased to meet you, Mr. Holmes! the constable said as he picked up a military salute position. I am Bert, Bert O'Shea, constable serving the force in Ebott City.
- Very well, Mr O'Shea. Could you lead us to your superintendent? We would like to have a word with him, Holmes said.
- My pleasure, sir. I have a cab waiting right here, constable Bert said as he pointed to the police cab.

Ebott City was really a small city, with around 30,000 inhabitants, and it was full of well kept houses. People were walking down the streets, and it seemed like the usual country city where people know one another, but Holmes was more interested in the case now. "I have heard that a seventh child went missing this morning," to which the constable replied "Yes, sir, I know, I was one of the constables assigned with searching around the area. But I believe the superintendent has all the information that you might need," and that rendered Holmes back into his usual silence, while I was waiting patiently for the cab to stop at the police station. The police station seemed to be far from the train station, because the cab stopped after approximately fourty-five minutes. "Here we are, sirs. Come in, I will go to the superintendent and let him know you are here," constable Bert said to us as we waited in the police station's hall.

- Mr. Wallace, this is Mr. Holmes and his associate, Dr. Watson, the constable said to a man in his fourties, seemingly the superintendent of this area. He had a red moustache and his face was also showing signs of tiring, it made me wonder to what extent have these men gone in their searches.
- Mr. Holmes, we are indeed surprised by your presence, the man said. I am Daniel Wallace, the superintendent of this area.
- You are a married man, aged 43, with two children. You have a rather good material situation, which allows you to provide for a third child your wife is expecting, Holmes said, as he was examining the man with his accurate senses.
- Good heavens! How did you know, Mr. Holmes? Mr. Wallace was shocked, looking at my friend.
- I could see by the state of your clothes - they are neatly kept and have little to no tears on them - meaning you must have enough money to provide for yourself and the family. At your neck is a medallion, no doubt with photographs of your wife holding your daughter, and the other photograph with your son. As for your wife's carriage, I have noted you have a date inscribed on the outside of the medallion, that could only mean the day the third child is expected to arrive, Holmes said.
- Yes, it is correct, Mr. Holmes. Why, I haven't really told anyone what the date means. But you certainly must be a wizard of some kind, because my wife suggested that I carve it on the front. But I know you're not here to discuss my family's matters. You must be here because you have heard about the case we're working on here, the superintendent said, a bit frowning.
- Can we have a look at the information you have collected thus far? my friend asked.

As the superintendent led us in his office, I noticed a lot of papers stacked on the desk, various certifications, it resembled pretty much Lestrade's office, from what Holmes told me once. The robust man motioned towards us to have a seat, while he searched for the files for this case - which he found after a rather embarassing ten minutes' search. "Here we are, gentlemen. This is the entire casefile for the disappearances. As you can obviously see, they were aged between eight and eleven years old. Three of them had families, and the later three were residents of the local orphanage."

- What about the last child that's gone missing today? I asked.
- Oh. This one is a rather special case, superintendent Wallace said, clearing his throat a bit. The child's name was an odd one, as we noted in the records. Frederick Sheila Thorne. The child was a resident in the local orphanage as well.
- I assume the child had a family at some point, I said, puzzlement visible on my face.
- Yes, the child had a family. But they have abandoned the infant when it was four years old.
- Good God, who'd do such a thing to a child, I said.
- They are no different than the criminals we hunt, Watson, Holmes said, a small frown forming on his face.

After the visit to the police station, Holmes and I were visibly concerned with this case. "Watson, tomorrow, we'll go on that mountain. There's no time to lose, man, the clock is ticking. And it's not in the favor of that child." Holmes was indeed right, for the child was laying on the inside of Mount Ebott, unconscious.