That evening, Peter and Moira were sitting at the dinner table with their parents and grandparents; they were all eating chicken and pasta for dinner.
"This is great, grandma." Peter said, swallowing a bite of chicken.
"Yeah, the best." Moira agreed before helping herself to some more noodles.
"Well, I'm glad you kids like it." Lydia said with a proud smile.
"You know, Peter. I've been meaning to give you something." Jonathon said before getting up from his chair and heading towards the living room. "I'll be right back."
After a few minutes, Jonathon returned and kneeled in front of Peter. He then pinned something onto the boy's sweater; it was a small medal in the shape of a dragon wrapped around a sword. Peter's eyes widened.
"Whoa, what is this?" He asked.
"I received this medal back when I was drafted into the army during World War II, along with a few others." Jonathon explained as he and Peter walked over to a small cabinet filled with shining, gleaming medals all from the war; Peter's eyes widened. "But the one I just gave you? I won this for doing something that wasn't even commanded of me. I pushed one of my fellow soldiers out of the way of an incoming grenade, saving his life. The general was so impressed by my reckless actions that he gave me this."
"Wow, cool!" Peter said before realizing something. "But… why are you giving this to me?"
"This little thing was what got me through the rest of the war." Jonathon replied. "I thought that if I could survive that, I could survive anything that life threw at me. Now that the war is done and over with, I'm perfectly happy with my life and I don't really need it anymore. So I want you to have it, to remind you to have courage and be strong… especially for your sister."
"Don't worry, grandpa; I'll always be there for Moira." Peter said proudly.
"Oh, Moira? I have something special for you too, dear." Lydia said before taking something out of her skirt pocket.
"What is it?" Moira asked, walking over to her grandmother.
Lydia showed her something that looked like a deep golden watch on a chain and she put it around her granddaughter's little neck.
"I had this watch since I was a little girl." Lydia explained. "It was all I had left of my mother before she passed. For years, it was me and my brother; it was tough, but I tried my hardest to provide for us. It felt like my mother was watching us from up in Heaven… and this watch kept me going. And then, after what felt like an eternity, I met your grandfather and we've been happy ever since."
"Wow." Moira said as she inspected the old timepiece around her neck. "It's really pretty, grandma. But why are you giving it to me?"
"Because I feel that it's meant for you." Lydia replied. "I don't really need it anymore, but I have a feeling you might need it."
"I love it, grandma. Thanks." Moira said before giving her grandmother a big hug.
"You're welcome, sweetheart." Lydia beamed, hugging the little girl back.
Victor and Elsa smiled.
After dinner came bedtime for Peter and Moira. They had just settled into their room and they were starting to get themselves ready for bed.
"Hey, Peter? What do you think is gonna happen during our time here?" Moira asked as she put on her pajamas.
"I don't know." Peter replied as he started to brush his teeth. "But whatever it is, I'm sure it has nothing to do with some ridiculous 'omen' from a school bully."
"…Yeah, I guess you're right." Moira said before grabbing her toothbrush from her backpack. "But anything can happen, right?"
"Maybe, but I'd try not to think about it too much." Peter said before rinsing and spitting.
He had already put on his own pajamas before exiting the bathroom to let Moira go in and brush her own teeth.
"Your turn."
Moira rolled her eyes and headed over to the bathroom. After she brushed her teeth and climbed into bed, her mind was buzzing with all of the possible things that could happen to her or her family while staying in London; she couldn't get Giselle's words out of her head.
'If Mr. Whiskers dreams about you, it means something big is going to happen.'
"Something big, something big…" Moira muttered, skimming the pages of the book she was reading before she finally shut her eyes and drifted to sleep.
0-0-0-0-0-0
"God, this house is in shambles!" Watson exclaimed. "It looks like the robbers have really done a number on this place."
"You can say that again, Watson. Let's split up." Holmes chuckled as he and his partner cautiously entered the wrecked house.
He made his way to the front room, got down on his knees, and took a magnifying glass out of his coat pocket, trying to find anything that would at least give him a sign of who or what could've been responsible for this damage. Watson hesitantly followed suit, being as careful as possible while also staying vigilant. They've been searching for a good few minutes.
"Find anything, Holmes?" Watson asked.
"Not yet. I can't even tell where…" Holmes replied before finally seeing something. "Wait! Here's something!"
Watson carefully walked over to where he heard his partner's voice was coming from and he saw him on his hands and knees in the kitchen next to the dining room.
"What is it?" Watson asked, trying to get a better view.
"See for yourself, Watson." Holmes said, showing Watson what he had just discovered; it was a set of large, muddy footprints and they were leading to where the laundry room was supposed to be.
"Footprints?" The elder gentleman asked.
"Yes. And judging by the size, shape, and patterns, the robber must've been wearing some form of combat boot. Approximately… a size 12, wide. Just a wild guess, though." Holmes replied before taking a quick picture of a couple of prints; he looked back at Watson. "We'll need to search the other houses to see if we can find more prints like these; I want to see if these past robberies were all committed by the same crook… or crooks, if may be."
"Then there's no time to lose." Watson said before looking at the list in his hands. "The next house on our search is the St. Carolina estate, 2254 Charleton Drive."
"St. Carolina…" Holmes trailed off before stuffing the picture in his pocket and running out the front door. "Very well. Let's go, Watson."
"Right behind you, Holmes."