A/N: Hey there. Sorry to keep you waiting for quite some time. School ended like a week ago. I needed to get my sh*t back together since I haven't finished my story plot for this story yet and I had to do that before writing chapter 4. Anyways, here it is! Enjoy!
Irregularities
She woke up early with a new purpose, it was as if determination was a drug that coursed her veins that perked her up and willed her to get on with the day, the determination to find out who this mysterious friend is. Though most of her still believed it was just Sherlock Holmes tripping her up into thinking it's not him, it was best to really make sure who.
This person seemed to know things about her…
Holmes does.
Has obviously been shadowing her movements…
Holmes would.
This would also mean that this person is interested in her, generally…
Is he really?
Irene shook her head, this was not the time to think of trivial matters, this person could mean her harm and was simply using the guise of an admirer.
The lobby was not as busy in the mornings but it was a good way to start her observation. This admirer of hers would obviously send up something for her after the dinner last night, may it be a card, flowers, wine, or candies, but it was important that she sees who leaves any gifts for her at the front desk. She remembered the bellboy the other night, and took his disguise as a cue, Irene dressed up as one herself; it was the easiest way to stay close to the front desk without looking suspicious.
She didn't have to wait too long though, for about a quarter of an hour later, an ill-clothed young boy with a soot smeared face entered the lobby. He was quickly blocked by a guard.
"Sorry, we do not give alms to beggars." The guard said monotonously.
"What made yah think I was tah beg?" The boy retorted.
"Then what is your business here?"
"Yeh don' look the concert person, why would I tell yeh?"
"You mean the concierge?"
"Yeah, tha' one."
"Then right this way please." He begrudgingly escorted the grubby boy to the counter.
"I say! Top o' the mornin' to yah!" The boy, not even tall enough to look over the desk, greeted the concierge cheerily with a thick Cockney accent.
"Yes? How may I be of service young sir?" The concierge said not really trying hard to hide the disgust in his voice.
"See 'ere, I gots this letter fer a lady in 'ere, and it gots tah be 'livered up quick!"
"I see." The concierge responded dryly, "well, give me her name and I'll be sure to send it up."
"Great then me man!" The boy clicked his tongue in approval and slapped a square of cardboard on the desk. "It's fer Adler, that darling of a ducky. You send it up now, there, that's a good lad!"
The boy then turned away and made it for the exit. Irene, despite her surprise, couldn't help but stifle a giggle.
"Oi, you there!" the concierge called to her.
"Yes sir?"
"Bring this up to Mr. Adler's room."
Irene smirked, then without a second look at the confused concierge, she dashed out the door in pursuit of the boy. Unfortunately for her, the little street Arab had blended in well into the crowd. But that didn't stop Irene; she knew enough about street kids even back in America and had a good guess where she might find this particular boy. He'd obviously been tipped by the person Irene was after; he would be paid after the task was done and if so, then they should just be near by, probably somewhere dark or isolated.
She turned into the nearest back alley, and sure enough she found the boy. But instead of with an adult as she expected, he was being congratulated and cheered on by a couple more boys like him.
"Good job Wiggins! Yer first assignment, atta boy!" the oldest looking street Arab slapped the boy called Wiggins playfully on the back.
"Well I would'nuv dunnit if yeh di'nt bring me to the guv'nor, Felix."
Irene stepped closer quietly to hear more of what they were saying, but she stepped on a piece of rotten box wood and the crunch got the boys' attention.
"Who you?" Felix called out to her authoritatively.
"Uhm," she cleared her throat. "I come by Miss Adler's instruction; she wanted to know who sent the card."
The boys stood up in alert, Felix narrowed his eyelids. "Really now? If she'd have read it, she would know."
Irene saw her mistake; she had not taken a glance at the card at all. "Well, uhm, she's not really certain-"
Then Felix said, "It's her! Run boys!" And with a blink of an eye, each boy dispersed into four different directions, Wiggins even slipped slyly past her elbow.
"Wait! Please, I just need- oh bother!" Then she ran after Wiggins.
Very smooth Irene. Stupid Irene. This was not how you wanted it to happen! She scolded herself as she swerved past people on the street with only one thing in focus; Wiggins' sooty back amidst other people. Now you'll most likely never know who this person is.
The boy turned into a narrow alley, Irene followed suit then she heard voices cheering Wiggins on.
"Run you fool!" it was the older boy, Felix.
When she looked up, there he was with a number of other boys standing on the balconies on either side of the alley with buckets in their hands.
MOTHER OF-!
They tipped their buckets as she passed underneath them, and she didn't have to see to know what was in the buckets, her nose could tell. Irene dodged the disgusting torrents of filth and succeeded. Wiggins dared to look, and when he saw her gaining, the color drained from his face. She pushed on but just as she did, someone rolled a barrel in her way. Irene jumped just in time.
A smile ghosted her face as she was airborne before realizing that she would be landing in a filthy ditch.
I'll get those kids, even if it kills me. They'll get what they deserve. Whoever sent them will have hell to pay!
She seethed as she limped grudgingly, leaning on the walls of buildings as she walked on. She twisted her left ankle when she fell, and fact that it had begun to rain heavily right after that did not help matters. The earth and garbage got wet and it was not an easy task climbing out, and when she did, the boys were nowhere to be found. The chase had brought her far from the busy square where her hotel was and she was somewhat unfamiliar with the street where she was now.
Deciding that she would get nowhere unless the rain stops, she took a seat on a barrel just outside a café, taking shelter under its awning. The smell of warm bread wafted from inside and made her feel miserable. She should be back in her hotel room, warm and cozy, with breakfast in bed, yet she was out here. It was not even eight o'clock in the morning and she was already wet, cold, dirty, and injured. Irene was starting to lose interest on her 'admirer' thanks to those boys, and she wonders if it was even worth it.
The shops on the street were opening up and so was the café beside her. And as if the opening of doors was a signal, the street suddenly filled with people despite the rain, jostling about to get to a shop. One particular man who exited the café was pushed aside by entering customers, and as he stumbled, he bumped into Irene, toppling her barrel over and sending her onto the puddles and into the rain.
"Oh dear Lord, forgive me sir. Here, let me help you up." The tall man hurried towards her, carrying a brown package under one arm and held out the other for her. "I'm sorry, now, you're soaked. These morning rushes are already busy as they are, but with the rain, it's just troublesome."
"It's alright," she sighed as he pulled her up. "I wasn't dry to begin with." Irene hopped on one foot as she tried not to hurt her already injured left ankle, but the cobblestones were slippery and she slumped into the man. The bellboy hat she had maintained on her head to hide her hair finally fell off.
Irene scrambled for it and stuffed it back on haphazardly, her wet hair forming tendrils over her face. No one else seemed to notice since they were busy, but the man who helped her stared with wide eyes.
"What? You haven't seen a boy with long hair before?" Irene threw in.
The man looked unconvinced. His brows were furrowed yet his eyes were somewhat wide with surprise. "No, it's not that." He said.
"What do you mean?"
He looked hesitant, "Well, if I may?" he raised his hand to her face and carefully pushed aside her hair. He then let out a sort of triumphant 'huh' as if he was right about something. "I knew it."
Irene started to feel nervous. "What are you talking about?"
The man grabbed her hand and pulled her with him.
"Hey! What are you doing? Where are you taking me?" She hopped on one foot to keep up while trying to pull away.
"This is not a place for someone like you, a warm sitting room perhaps. My apartment is nearby. You'll be safer there Ms. Adler."
Irene stopped pulling. "How-how… Who are you?" This man could be one of those dangerous fanatics of hers.
"Don't worry, you can trust me. We haven't exactly met properly before, but I know you. My name's Dr. Watson. John Watson."
A/N: So what do you think? Review please! ^^
