Children.

"What devious little urchins."

"Hm?" Watson lifted his nose from his novel to look up to me. I had been standing at the window for several minutes, amusing myself with passers-by as they traipsed through the several inches of snow that had accumulated during the night; the paper had offered nothing to capture my attention that morning.

"Do you remember how the café has left several wooden crates stacked up near the road?"

"Yes, I wish they'd get rid of them."

"Well. A group of boys have taken to crouching down behind them, arranging the boxes so they can't be seen from the road." Watson stood and walked over to me at our window; we could easily see the group hunched over and snickering to each other as they packed snowballs in to a neat little pile behind their fort. I pointed a little ways down the street at an approaching four-wheeler.

"Oh no," Watson moaned, looking between the carriage and the group of ruffians.

"No, no, watch, it's a little bit cleverer than the usual prank."

One of the boys bobbed his head above their fortress to see what he had undoubtedly heard down the street. He then hurried the other boys to get in to position, each taking an icy projectile in one hand, waiting in complete silence as the carriage approached.

It came up to them and the boys remained quite still. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Watson had expected them to strike for the windows and had just missed their opportunity; I smirked at my knowledge of what was about to occur.

"And…" I said, drawling out the word as the carriage passed their hideaway and carried on just beyond. "Now!"

My prediction was perfect. The boys from behind their fort lobbed their snowballs up in to the air, each landing with a resounding thud on the roof of the carriage. The driver gave a great start and whipped around, shouting what must have been crude threats to his attackers, but his search proved to be in vain. The boys had their hands shoved nearly down their throats to keep themselves from laughing and giving themselves away behind their boxes.

"My word," Watson laughed as the driver gave a great huff and continued on down the road.

They're quite accurate considering they do not see their target."

"They have been practicing for some time now," I informed my companion, Watson giving another chortle and returning to his chair. "Though their craftiness is to be admired, children are quite bothersome when they resort to pointless mischief. I thank Heaven I will never have to go through the trouble of caring for one."

I had been speaking frivolously; the meaning of what I had said only hitting me after I had finished. Watson did not make any remark to my statement, and I was suddenly afraid that I had overstepped my boundaries. How insensitive was I, to say such a thing when I knew his poor wife had died in childbirth?

I had to quickly make amends.

"I apologize, that was… imprudent of me to say."

He was quiet for a moment, watching me keenly with an unreadable expression. I was becoming exceedingly anxious when, at last, he spoke.

"No, you're right. They're right little terrors."

He must have found my anxiety amusing for he flashed his teeth in a wide smile before he began to chuckle good-naturedly, returning his pipe to his lips. The tension melted away from my form and I grinned, joining him in quiet snickering. I was ever thankful that I was blessed with one of the blithest companions a man could hope for.