I'd like to dedicate this chapter to 'Alice': Thank you for thinking this story is wonderful :) I appreciate it.

The Baker Street Irregulars, also known as the Baker Street division of Scotland Yard, were invaluable to some of the cases that were given to us by clients and when the police have decided they were out of their depths – which was always, according to both my sister and my friend. For those who are not aware of their existence, good but for those who remain the slightest bit curious, allow me to shed some light onto our invaluable assets and their many different purposes.

The group is made up of street urchins, homeless children, with nothing to do and nowhere to go which gives them the freedom required in order to gather whatever information may be needed for certain cases such as a particular location or a certain boat for example.

Now, as you can probably wager, a certain attachment gets made to any group of children, especially if your name just happens to be Ms Luna Watson. Within the time she knew them, she made it her personal responsibility to make sure that they were taken care of in sickness and looked after in healthy. Of course, this meant that the attachment had been formed in both directions, meaning that the rather large group had taken to calling her 'Mother' though she never seemed to mind. In fact, she smiled at the title they'd gratefully bestowed upon them.

"Curly Joseph Jenkins! What have I told you about pickpocketing Detective Inspector Lestrade?!" Luna had cried particularly loudly one morning though there was a touch of laughter in her voice which she obviously tried to hide. Glacing over the top of my morning paper, I watching in mild amusement as the young man ducked his head, his dirty blonde curls acting as a curtain to hide his face from her. "I would appreciate an answer sweetheart and will not back down in receiving in one so, when you find yourself ready to explain, I will make myself ready to pay attention."

"M-Mr Holmes said it would be okay... as long as I di'nt get caught by 'im." he replied, looking up with a pair of mischievous blue eyes which seemed to lack their usual sparkle. The moment he had finished his sentence, she whipped around to glare at the guilty detective who had been playing his violin a few feet in front of the roaring fire, sneaking the occasional humoured look towards the pair. However, all of us could see that there was no real heat in my sister's face but the expression on her face remained stern.

"Sherlock Holmes!"

"Yes, my love?" He asked, his melody drawing to a gradual close as he turned to face her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Pulling the teenager to stand in front of her, she rested her chin on his bed of freshly cleaned curls, dropping a small affectionate kiss to the top of his head.

"May I ask why you are teaching the children that it is perfectly acceptable to steal?"

"Ah, pet, I can..." He murmured, striding forward towards her. She had tried to use the boy as a shield but sadly, Holmes had anticipated that move so he had ducked to her left quickly, managing to catch her around the waist. "... You see, I told them that they were talented and should use their talents. It is perfectly acceptable to steal darling, if you don't get caught."

However, she didn't react to his playful whispering how I thought she would. Usually, she would blush slightly but then quickly compose herself. This time, she simply smirked before taking her cane and gently tapping his right hand, watching her silk handkerchief flutter softly to the carpet. At this, Curly began to chuckle before patting the detective on his shoulder.

"Looks like you're losin' your touch sir. Don' it?" At this, Holmes huffed, pulling away to go begin composing once more but my sister merely smiled, holding something behind his back. Upon closer examination, I could see it was his pouch of tobacco which he kept in the breast pocket of his jacket.

"Shame on you Sherlock. I would have expected you to feel me take this from your person." she taunted, waving it a few inches from his nose with a triumphant air about her.

"See sir? Mother's a natural."

"Why, thank you Curly..." she thanked, inclining her head in his direction while returning the leather pouch back to it's original owner. "However, we don't steal unless it's to help prove a point or solve a case. Am I understood young man?"

"B-But mother..."

"You are very aware by now that pouting doesn't work on me for I get enough of it from the detective, do I not?" Sighing, the young lad accepted defeat.

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