A/N: Inspired by KCS' "All God's Little Creatures". This story has also turned into an AU of my series 'The Elizabeth Holmes Cases'.
Disclaimer: Watson and Holmes are not mine, but the kitten is.
Chapter Six: Nobody Expects...
A young constable I'd never met before burst into our sitting room. Campbell yelped and hid behind me. Victoria, focused so completely on her bottle, continued to nurse as though nothing abnormal--to her, at least, this wasn't the first time an Irregular had been chased into our sitting room by members of law enforcement--was occurring.
"Sorry to disturb you, gentlemen," the constable said, his accent faintly Welsh. "But that lad is the prime suspect in a house fire."
"Oi didn't 'ave anything ta do wif th' fire," Campbell insisted.
"Constable, Campbell is innocent," Holmes growled.
"So you know the lad?" the constable asked, a tinge of suspension entering his voice.
"He does odd jobs for me," Holmes replied.
"Like setting the home of a government official's secretary on fire?"
My blood froze at the constable's question--Campbell's father had been hired by Holmes' brother as his secretary five months ago when his previous secretary quit without warning after Holmes had barged into Mycroft's office one too many times. If Campbell had been at the site of the fire...
A glance at Holmes told me that he was thinking the same terrible thoughts I was.
"You see, but you do not observe, Constable," Holmes replied, avoiding the man's question.
"What I see is a young boy running away from a crime scene and the police, running to his confederates in the hopes of slipping away from justice," the constable shot back.
"You failed to realise that the boy in question had every legal right to be there at the crime scene, because it was his father's house. He must have realized somehow that the fire wasn't accidental, so he went to the only man he trusted to catch his father's killer--me," Holmes lectured.
"'E's right," Campbell added, as Victoria finished her bottle.
"Watson, would you please examine Campbell? His hand is covered in blood," Holmes remarked, taking Victoria from me. To the constable, he said, "As for you, please go to Scotland Yard and have the Inspector who is working this case come here. I think he will want to hear what I have to say."
The constable clearly did not like the way my friend was ordering him about, but he still did as he'd been directed to do.
As Holmes left to inform Mrs. Hudson that we would have a guest staying with us for the next couple of days, Victoria comfortably asleep in his arms, I got my black bag from my desk and brought it over to the sofa, where Campbell now sat, staring in bewilderment at his blood-red hand--which was now dripping onto the carpet, I noted with great concern.
"Holmes, I'll need a basin of luke-warm water and some soft towels!" I shouted.
"Am Oi gonna 'ave a scar?" Campbell asked me as I assembled everything else I needed to treat his injury.
"Probably. How did you hurt yourself like that?"
"Cut myself tryin' ta get ta my dad," Campbell admitted. "'E made me leave 'im there in th' blaze, though. Told me ta go ta 'is boss ta warn 'is brother 'bout this criminal by th' name o' Zapados. Oi figured it'd be faster ta go straight ta th' man in danger."
"Miguel Zapados wouldn't kill, at least not with a fire," Holmes remarked as he entered the sitting room, Victoria bundled up in that blanket again.
"My dad didn't give me a first name, Mister 'Olmes," Campbell pointed out. "'E could 'ave been talkin' 'bout some other bloke by th' name o' Zapados."
"Holmes, where's the--" I began to ask, but Mrs. Hudson's arrival with the water and towels cut me off.
"Here you are, Doctor," she said as she handed them to me. I nodded my thanks and Mrs. Hudson left the room, but not before informing us that she would make some hot broth for Campbell.
"Doctor, Oi can't feel my 'and any more," Campbell suddenly announced.
"Holmes, sit down before you collapse," I ordered, not needing to look up at my friend to know that he was on the verge of fainting at Campbell's words, as I began to gently clean Campbell's hand.
I felt ill as I got my first good look at Campbell's injury. Despite all the gruesome things I have seen in my life, my stomach still becomes queasy at the sight of the more gruesome acts of mankind, especially acts of violence against women and children.
"Campbell, who tied this rope around your wrist?" I demanded, fearing the worst possible answer to be the truth. I could feel Holmes' questioning glare on my back, but I ignored him.
"Th' lady who started th' fire," Campbell admitted.
"Why did she tie you up?" Holmes asked, distracting the lad while I removed the embedded length of cord from his wrist.
"She said she didn't want me ta stop 'er before she could deal wif my dad," Campbell replied, not even wincing as blood welled into the space left behind by the cord. He did wince when I applied liberal amounts of antiseptic to the wound, however.
"What was she like, this woman?" Holmes asked, as I began to stitch Campbell's wound closed.
"'Bout as tall as th' doctor, may be a few inches taller than 'im," Campbell recalled, straining his young brain to remember the details Holmes needed to track down this mysterious woman. "Long, black 'air, in a tight bun ta keep it out o' 'er face, black eyes an' darkish skin."
"Darkish?" Holmes asked.
"Loik one who'd been out in th' sun a lot, but 'ad started off wif darker skin," Campbell explained.
I still didn't understand what Campbell was trying to say, but Holmes did, as he started tossing books off the shelves in search of something.
I wrapped up Campbell's wrist, then turned around just in time to catch a large text on poisons and their antidotes with my face.
"Doctor!" squeaked Campbell in fright as I fell backwards from the unexpected blow.
Holmes was at my side in an instant, apologizing profusely for being so careless.
"I'm so, so sorry, Wat-" he was saying, before he suddenly cut himself off apparently having spotted what he had been looking for in the first place immediately behind me. "Ah, there's the Z's," he said, eliciting an eye-roll from me.
"I'm fine, Holmes," I muttered in reply to his unspoken question. "The worse I've got is a black eye."
"Is 'e alright?" Campbell asked from where he sat on the couch behind me.
"Completely fine, Campbell," Holmes replied. "His thick skull saved him from any serious injury."
"Holmes, why were you looking for the Z's?" I asked.
"Campbell's father may not have meant Miguel Zapados, but his sister, Daniela," Holmes explained. "And as I have never had to deal with her before, I wanted to see what I already know about her."
"A woman, Holmes?" I asked, dubious of the ablity of a member of the fairer sex to be so cruel without great moviation, as he flipped to the entry in question and read it aloud in reply.
"Zapados, Daniela. Sister of Miguel Zapados. Dangerous when crossed--will kill in cold blood. Married to Professor J. Moriarty, one child--male, Angel(1). Prefers to do things herself rather than hire representatives. Has a taste for pyrotechnics," he read aloud.
"Holmes, she will come back for Campbell, won't she?" I asked.
Holmes nodded.
"She won't 'urt me, not so long as Oi've got yew two on my side," Campbell declared, his childish trust in us warming my heart.
1)"Angel" is an actual male Spanish name.