"You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance." - Franklin P. Jones Watson
"Eve! Don't touch that! Watson, keep her off the railings! For heaven's sake, you'll get us thrown out!"
I sighed; Sherlock Holmes was never a patient man, and with a hyperactive five-year-old his tiny bit of tolerance was fast evaporating.
"She can't see, Holmes," I explained as I pulled the girl off of the bottom rail of an iron barrier between her and a display of Seventh Theban Dynasty mummies.
The girl glared at me with more spirit than I would have thought possible after her tiring experience of the morning, and I hastily swung her up into my arms to prevent a possible tantrum.
"You mustn't touch anything, Eve," I admonished somewhat sternly, trying to ignore Holmes's irritated glares as he kept a wary eye out for a museum guide who might have seen her nearly fall over the railing.
The little one nodded and leaned over the side to curiously inspect a particularly gruesome mummy - the tastes of children theses days, honestly.
I sighed as I followed Holmes as he wandered round aimlessly, obviously more in thought than in paying attention to his surroundings, judging from the number of people he absently knocked over in his perambulations, leaving me to mutter apologies as I pushed my way through the crowd after him as we exited the Egyptian section and headed for the European exhibits.
Eve's good arm was wrapped around my neck in a near stranglehold, and just now she tugged on my ear.
"Eve," I said warningly.
The girl tittered silently and pointed to a display of glittering jewellery worn by European royalty in years gone by, and after glancing about to see that Holmes was still milling 'round bumping into people aimlessly, I bent over the case so that she could look at the sparkling gems.
She inspected them for a moment and then turned her attention over my shoulder, giving my ear another urgent tug.
"Stop that," I said in a little annoyance.
Eve pointed behind me and I turned to look. Thank heaven there were not many people around, for Sherlock Holmes was doing exactly what he had sternly ordered me to prevent Eve from doing. He was standing on the railings, leaning over the top rail to look at a large oversized globe standing in a display, detailing the European continent in brilliant shades of what I assumed was marble.
I moaned and hastily went over to him, casting a glance round to see if anyone was staring at my friend in his undignified position, shaking my head at Eve who was glaring at Holmes.
"Yes, I know he told you that you couldn't do that, Eve," I said uncomfortably as we reached Holmes, "Holmes, what the devil are you doing!"
"HAH!"
His enthusiastic shout could be heard ringing and echoing through the museum halls, and I cringed as several people turned to stare at the three of us. Holmes hopped down carelessly off the rail to meet a glaring pair of five-year-old eyes.
"What?" he asked.
Eve glared at him once more, and I was hard pressed not to smile as she pointed to the railing and began to pout.
"Yes, yes, I know I said you couldn't climb on them. But Watson, those coordinates - they are in Italy!"
"Italy."
"Yes, a city called Bari - you are of course familiar with it?"
"Bari. No, I - Eve, don't touch!"
The girl glared at me in protest.
"Yes, I know Mr. Holmes touched it, but you can't."
Eve folded her one arm across her chest and sent us both a look that could curdle milk. I sighed and looked back at Holmes, who was scribbling in his notebook. Then Eve tugged once more on my ear, and I gave up remonstrating with a sigh.
"What is it?"
The girl pointed behind us at a familiar figure, her little face creasing into a tiny smile.
"Er, Holmes?"
"What?"
"We have company, believe this or not."
"What are you going on about?"
"Good afternoon, Doctor," rumbled Mycroft, eyes taking in the surroundings in one fell swoop before coming to rest on his brother. "Well, Sherlock, how are you enjoying your babysitting?"
"I rather think you can deduce that for yourself, brother mine," Holmes replied with thinly veiled annoyance.
"Hmm, yes." His smile made it evident that he was revelling in his younger brother's inconvenience. I got a feeling that this might be retribution for years of babysitting Sherlock himself. "I suppose you should be very glad to have the Doctor along here."
"Actually, I have spent the last hour babysitting more than one child," I replied pointedly, throwing Holmes a look.
Elder brother chuckled. "Now you know what a holy terror he was as a youngster, Doctor. Eve, how are you?"
The little one did not shrink away from Mycroft but rather extended a small hand - complete with dingy rabbit in its closed fist.
"Um, yes. Tell Bunny I said hallo as well. Sherlock -"
"Tell me, brother, why have you left your stolid habits twice in as many days? Is that not a record?"
"Do not interrupt, Sherlock," the larger man abolished, as if they were children once more. "It is a very childish habit."
Younger brother flushed under Mycroft's disapproving glare and sternly pointing finger.
"The powers that be will not allow for down time in this matter, Sherlock. Can we go somewhere away from these throngs, for I have something to show you. Perhaps the café downstairs?"
I stifled a snicker, for I had been able to deduce that food would have entered the picture at some point since it had been all of three hours since the normal luncheon time.
It appeared that Holmes had anticipated it as well, for he rolled his eyes eloquently at me and led the way to the stairs. I made sure that Eve's rabbit was well-secured under her arm and then followed Mycroft.
Holmes
"Now, Mycroft. What have you to tell us - and I have information for you as well," I said briskly when we were seated at a corner table.
My brother was infuriatingly slowly devouring a sandwich but he stopped to look at the map of the Palace I placed upon the table.
I glanced over at Watson while my brother was studying it and saw that he had gotten the girl a glass of milk and was teaching her how to blow bubbles through the straw. I shook my head, trying to keep the grin from my face - the girl would very much horrify my brother if she did that when she went back to his apartment.
"These coordinates, Sherlock. Italy, are they not?"
I scowled - Mycroft had always been a walking combination dictionary, atlas, and Bradshaw. "Yes, a small city called Bari. What connection does Bari, Italy, have with this dead politician?"
"Leave that speculation for the moment, Sherlock, and look at this. What the deuce are you doing, Doctor?"
I grinned, hiding my face in the letter Mycroft had handed me as Watson endeavoured to explain why Eve was blowing vigorously into the straw with a happy smile, spraying more milk onto herself and the table than was left in the foam-filled glass.
"Mycroft, where did you get this?"
He turned his exasperated attention back to me.
"It came from Derby, this morning. Unsigned, obviously by a mildly educated man of good means."
"And obviously he knows more than he is telling us."
"Exactly. According to this information, Jackyl is headed north."
"To Derby, presumably."
"Possibly, Sherlock, possibly." My brother finished his sandwich, his enormous brow wrinkled in thought.
"We shall have to track him and Jackyl down, Mycroft," I said, glancing over the plain white writing paper - no clue of importance there. And the hand was indicative of nothing important other than the facts that Mycroft had already stated. I turned my attention to the envelope.
"I say, Mycroft - did you notice this?" I asked, indicating a small feather that was apparently stuck to the glue along the flap of the envelope.
"Of course I did, Sherlock. Common enough feather, ruff and broken, obviously indicating stress."
"And stress indicates overcrowded poultry," I replied, my brows knitting.
"Which means..."
"That I am going to get a copy of the Derby business directory straight away!" I said, jumping up from the table.
"You do that," Mycroft replied, mopping his brow as if exhausted. "I have already done too much moving 'round today to suit my tastes. Doctor, is that wise do you suppose?"
I gave vent to my laughter as I moved away from the table toward the exit, for Watson had bought the child a small package of sweets and the girl was in the middle of her first one - probably her first one ever. I did not know which of them had the bigger smile on their face, the girl or my dear friend.
Mycroft was going to take a child home that was full of sugar. It might be a good experience for him.