"It was still unfair for Sir to do that to you," grumbled Peter, rubbing his hand. Lars stood next to him outside the 'girls' school entrance, also rubbing his hand and waiting for the girls. Ivan had wandered off a few moments ago, but returned holding a small, yellow flower, which he handed to Lars.

"Will this make you feel better?" he asked, eyes wide; "flowers always make me feel better but I could only find one so you will have to share, if you want it, that is," he added bashfully.

"It is perfect, thank you Ivan," said Lars, smiling and taking the flower.

"I think the teacher was really mean to hit you both," added Ivan, "does he not know why you are sad and not concentrating?"

"Probably," Lars shrugged, "but I do not think he cares about my uncle dying, or my best friend, err, my former best friend's father killing him. But you did not need to defend me, Peter, it only made you get caned too," he added, glaring at the older boy.

"Hey, 'tis what brothers do, right?" he answered casually, leaning against a lamp post, "I'm sure Ivan here would do the same for his sisters, right?" he asked, looking from Lars to Ivan.

"Yes, of course I would, for Yekaterina, definitely, but Natalya has proven she is pretty fearsome on her own, though if she ever needed me, I would help her. No one would get away with hurting them," there was a venom in his voice, one that caused the other two to shy away.

"Right…" said Peter, it was then that the girls wandered out of the gate and Peter's face brightened a little, "hey Charlotte," he said, "did you have a good day?"

"It was fine, I suppose," she replied, then looked past his shoulder and scowled, "hey isn't that that horrible man's son?"

"Huh?" Peter turned round to find Franz, holding Toris' hand, staring at them nervously from across the street. Lars' face darkened and Peter held his little brother's hand for support.

"What is he doing here?" gasped Lars, trying to force back tears. He couldn't deal with the betrayal. Franz was his first best friend, and the boy had hurt him like this. Surely he'd have known what his father was doing? Why didn't he tell anyone?

"Who is he?" asked Yekaterina, picking up Natalya and holding her close.

"He is Mr Edelstein's son," explained Charlotte, "you know, he one the police arrested a few days ago. He was friends with Lars until we found out what kind of person his father is."

"How horrible," sniffed Yekaterina, holding Natalya closer and taking Ivan's hand, "hey, I think he is coming over here!" she squeaked, jumping up and down slightly.

Peter growled and stood in front of Lars, trying to protect him from the other boy.

"Please," pleaded Franz as he got nearer, "I mean you all no harm and only want to talk." He stood in front of them, wearing his neat school uniform, hair pulled into two tight plaits, as usual. Toris seemed to have disappeared, probably to give the children some space.

"Huh?" spat Charlotte scornfully, wrinkling her nose, "why on earth would we want to talk to you? Your father killed my mother."

"And my uncle," added Peter, folding his arms.

"Lies! He is innocent, you have to believe me!" begged Franz.

"Shut up!" Charlotte screamed, lunging forward and striking Franz across the face, "just stop it!" She shoved him and he fell to the ground, dazed and terrified. He tried to shield his face as she threw punch after punch. "Your father is a monster and you must be one too!"

"Charlotte, no!" cried Peter as he tried to pull her off the boy, who was crying now. Lars just looked on, numb and not knowing what to do. Should he defend Franz? Should he enjoy this?

"Franz isn't his father!" Peter continued; "he hasn't killed anyone! Just hear what he has to say! if it turns out to be a load of rubbish, then you can hit him!"

Charlotte glowed at Franz, wanting nothing more than to hurt Franz. Let's see how Mr Edelstein liked having family brutally attacked…

"Thank you Peter," Franz gasped, clutching his stomach.

"Save your breath," Peter growled, letting go of Charlotte, "we're just giving you a chance. Mess this up and you'll get worse."

"O-of course," Franz looked down, avoiding the glares of contempt thrown at him and wiping blood from his mouth. "I don't quite know how to prove it, but I promise my father is innocent! You believe me, don't you Lars?"

Lars ducked back behind his brother. "No," he mumbled.

It was clear his words wounded Franz, more so than any of Charlotte's punches.

"Why should we believe you?" questioned Yekaterina, narrowing her eyes.

"Because I know my father and he would never hurt you mother, or your uncle! He has to get my mother to sort out any bugs he finds in the house and his motto in life is 'make music not war'. He is a peaceful man and I hope you can see that."

"Yes but people always defend their parents," muttered Lars, moving around Peter.

"And if he had really done it then I would be asking you to see me as a different person from my father and going on about how we are not alike, but I am not. And… and… and I know where he has been disappearing to."

"What?" gasped Lars, "'well why don't you tell the police that? Where has he been sneaking off to?"

"He made me promise to never tell anyone. That is why I cannot say, and I do not really think he will tell the police either," replied Franz sadly.

"But if he cannot give an alibi then he will be sent to prison for life!" exclaimed Yekaterina.

"Actually," contradicted Peter, "I believe he will be executed because he killed people; Uncle Aleks told me that's what happens."

Franz gave a squeak of fright and teared up, "please, you have to help him!"

"Us?" Lars blinked, "what can we do?"

"Catch the real killer!" exclaimed Franz, throwing his arms in the air, "you can find whoever did it for real and tell the police."

"Why us?" asked Peter, "why not you? You have more money."

"Yes, but there are more of you, and I meant for your parents to catch them anyways. They know the area well and I am guessing they have faced hardships in life so know more about matters such as this. I am just a silly pampered rich boy who knows nothing of killers and the streets. But I believe you all can do it. Please, do it for an innocent man condemned to death!" Franz had fat teardrops rolling down his cheeks now, "I cannot bear to see my father hanged like a criminal."

"Uh, well, we will see what we can do," said Lars.

"Oh danke! Thank you!" Franz leapt forward, pulled Lars into a tight hug and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

"Wha-what the hell, Franz?" he gasped.

"Thank you for helping to save my father," Franz hissed in his ear, "he goes on trial tomorrow, so you do not have much time," then he ran back to Toris, who had turned up again and was waiting for him across the street.

…

"Well, should we ask?" inquired Lars as he and Peter walked home; they had already passed the bakery and said goodbye to the others, who had decided that they wanted no part in hunting down a murderer. Charlotte was still seething, and would barely look at Peter as she said goodbye.

"But why do you want to help this kid so badly?" whined Peter, "even if his Papa did not kill anyone, he is still a mean person who shouted at you."

"But Franz is my friend! And if his Papa is really innocent, then we have to save him. You know our fathers would want to save someone if they were innocent, no matter what they have said in the past. So what if Mr Edelstein does not like me? We cannot let him die! I cannot let my best friend, aside from you, go through the pain we are going through!"

"Fine. We tell Papa Tino first though, agreed?"

"Agreed."

"And he can think of a plan to catch the killer," he added.

"Noted," Lars opened the door of the shop and the two boys entered without another word. They found Tino tidying a display of Noah's ark animals near the front of the shop and walked over to him. None of the others were in sight but there were a few people wandering about.

"Um, Papa…" began Lars.

"Oh good you're both home," interrupted Tino, hugging the both of them, "I was starting to get worried. There's a lot for you to do today-"

"Papa I saw Franz today."

"Oh, I see, did he try to talk to you?" Tino turned away from the shelf and crouched down so he was eye level with his sons.

"Yes, he said his Papa never hurt anyone," replied Lars, "and he wants us to find the real killer because his Papa is going on trial tomorrow and will be executed."

"I see," murmured Tino, "and what does he want us to do about it?"

"He said that you and everyone would know how to set a trap or something for the person who really did it," explained Lars, "because you know the area and what the streets are like and stuff."

"Me?" Tino chuckled a little, "so you also think he's innocent?"

"Well… I don't know, but Franz said he didn't and was somewhere else at the time but didn't say where… but I think I believe him."

"To be honest," said Tino, "Berwald and I have also had our doubts about the man. I mean, he seriously does not appear capable of doing such things. Not because he looks kind or anything, but because it would have taken a lot of strength to kill those people, muscle, which Mr Edelstein does not have."

"So you will help him?" asked Lars, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Tino seriously doubted they would catch anyone. If the killer thought they were safe because they were not the one being arrested for it or, even worse, had deliberately framed Roderich, then they would seriously not be stupid enough to kill again, unless they didn't care about getting caught and just wanted to see blood, which would make them seriously dangerous. Tino decided to humour his son, so smiled and nodded. "We will come up with a plan."

"And your job will be to distract Berwald long enough for us to make one."

The three of them yelped in surprise at Aleks' voice; they had not even seen him arrive.

"Oh hey Aleks, did not see you there," Tino frowned slightly, "but what do you mean distract Berwald?"

"Well, I was standing around and happened to be on the other side of the shelf from you, so heard everything you said- by the way, you might want to keep your voices down a bit it you are talking about such subjects- and I am pretty intrigued. I want to help you too, and I am sure Erikur and Arthur will too, but we cannot allow Berwald to know a thing about this."

"Why not?"

"Because… he just won't like it. He does not like dangerous plans and would not want to see us put ourselves in danger," he explained, he does not want to see you hurt, Tino, because he loves you too much, he added in his head.

"But-"

"Please, Tino, can we discuss this elsewhere?"

Tino nodded, "fine."

"How about the kitchen?"

"I don't see why not… wait, we still have a shop to run," Tino looked around; the place was still a little crowded, though no one was paying attention to them. Still, they were needed here.

"Then we will talk about it after closing time, but see if you can shut as early as you can," Aleks turned round to leave, "now, I will find Erikur and Arthur to tell them, but do not breathe a word of this to Berwald."

…

Peter and Lars walked quietly into the workroom after the shop had closed, where they found Berwald chatting to Arthur, who was sitting on Tino's seat, applying new bandages to his head.

"…but surely it woul' be easier to just wear an eye patch," suggested Berwald, but Arthur shook his head.

"That would make me look like a pirate or criminal and, here, image is everything, remember? A bandage makes me look like I was injured bravely fighting for freedom or something; an eye patch just makes me look dodgy. A nuisance, I know, but that is just how things are," when he had finished, he stood up and walked out, briefly greeting Peter and Lars as he left.

"Hey Papa," began Peter, "can you take Lars and me to the park today? It's just, this might be the only nice day left of the year…"

"Hmm… fine. Wouldn' mind getting some air too," Berwald stood up, took off his apron, grabbed his waistcoat and hat from a peg on the wall and followed the two children out the back door, after collecting Hanna and notifying Erikur, who was the first person Berwald could find, that they were leaving. They stopped at the bakery and Berwald told them they could pick a small cake each as a snack, which made the two boys the happiest they had been in days. He tied Hanna to the nearest lamppost and entered the shop.

The inside of the bakery was lovely and toasty after the frosty air outside and they were greeted by William, who was serving customers behind the counter.

"Table for three?" he asked.

Berwald shook his head, "three little cakes ta go, please."

William nodded, "coming right up;" he then turned around and yelled in the kitchen door, "hey Oscar get three cupcakes out here to go."

"Right-ho," came the reply and a few moments later Oscar trotted into the room with a small cardboard box. As Berwald paid and exchanged small talk with Oscar and William, Peter and Lars caught sight of Charlotte manoeuvring in between tables, sweeping the floor.

"Hey Lottie," called Peter, running over to her, "how are you?"

"Huh? Well no different from a few hours ago;" she stopped sweeping and looked up, giving a small smile.

"That's good," said Peter, "so do you want to go to the park with us?"

"No, sorry, I have to help Daddy, but maybe another time."

"Sounds good."

One of the customers, an old lady, glared at them and Peter took Charlotte's hand, walking away.

"What's her problem?" he asked Charlotte once they were out of earshot.

"Dunno," mumbled Charlotte, shrugging.

"So have you told your Papa about Franz?" he asked.

"Your brother's weird friend? The one who's father took mummy away? No, of course I have not," she sighed, "I know you all believe he is innocent and all, but the guy looks dodgy…"

"Well so does my brother but he never hurt no one!" exclaimed Peter.

"Nevertheless, I do not want to see Daddy and Oscar getting into danger so I want nothing to do with this, please."

"Of course, no problem, I will not involve you in this any more," Peter promised her.

"Thank you, hey I think Lars is calling you."

"So he is, cheerio then," Peter ran over to his brother, "yes?"

"Time to go," Lars replied.

"Brilliant!" Peter tugged on Berwald's clothes as he talked to William, "hey Papa, Lars' said we're going now yay we get to go to the park!"

Berwald chuckled slightly and picked his son up, "yes we're goin' now."

Berwald heard a tutting sound next to him and turned to find the same elderly woman from before paying at the counter.

"…child ought to get a beating for being so rude," she mumbled to him, "can't let him go on interrupting you like that."

"Excuse me?" he asked, astounded.

"The child was bad-mannered, he needs to be taught a lesson," she said, like it was obvious, "so he will learn to behave properly. You cannot let him run around the place disturbing people!"

"…actually nobody really minds him here, the place is usually full of my own children running about," interjected William.

"I don't hit m' sons," said Berwald firmly, "if I have a problem with something they do, I tell 'em and they behave. Both my… err… wife and I disagree with hitting children." He knew Tino would object to being called his wife, but 'the man who I live with and am in love with' wasn't an appropriate thing to say in public at all; it could even cause the lady to faint in shock. Then again, that would mean he wouldn't have to continue this rather distressing conversation. But what would the repercussions of admitting something like that out loud be? Scorn? Prison? Getting beaten to death on his way home?

"Well it is clearly not working," snapped the woman. Peter whimpered slightly. She was very small, almost as short as he was, and dressed finely, indicating she was of a higher class than everyone else in the shop. He briefly wondered if she was the queen, but then remembered he had seen photographs of Queen Victoria in books and newspapers and they looked nothing alike. Thank goodness; the real queen wouldn't be so horrible, right?

"That's because I don't have a pr'blem with Peter playing with his friends," replied Berwald calmly.

"Well I do," she shook her head, "children these days… not enough discipline."

"Personally, I think there is too much 'discipline'," commented Berwald, "young people need love and compassion, not hate and cruelty."

William stood, leaning against the counter, unmoving as he listened to the conversation, poised to leap into action if he needed to. He and Berwald were very similar, he had realised over the years; they were both compassionate people and, although Berwald didn't look it, very easy going. But they both had that one topic that just made them turn into this angry, passionate, fierce being. For William, it was women's rights, for Berwald, children. He waited with baited breath to see what would happen next. Berwald wouldn't actually punch an elderly person, would he?

"Who are you trying to be? The next Dr Banardo? Because if you are, go home! We respectable people do not need another foreign fool telling us to look after little criminals."

"If we do not need another Banardo then why do our children still suffer?" Berwald's face was calm as he said it, but William could tell he was close to tears over what he had just heard.

"Because they are wicked!"

Lars and Peter both flinched at this. Were they really wicked? They had tried to be good, so why did this woman say they were still bad? Would they go to hell? That's what happened to wicked people, their fathers had told them.

"No, they are not," Berwald gave one of his trademark glares that could reduce a grown adult to a crying mess, but the woman didn't even flinch, "children are pure and innocent and need love, not hate."

"Pah," the woman shook her head and slowly walked out.

"Are we really wicked?" asked Lars, tugging at Berwald's trouser leg.

"What?" Berwald snapped his head down to look at his son; "no, you could never be wicked, either of ya."

"I'll second that," added William.

"Really?" asked Peter, smiling hopefully.

"Course! Now let's go t' the park."

…

Sorry for the delay but hopefully this chapter was long enough to compensate.

Right, historical notes:

-in Victorian schools, boys and girls had separate entrances, playgrounds etc, which is why Peter, Lars and Ivan were standing outside the 'girls' entrance waiting for the others.

-Dr Banardo was a charity worker from Ireland who set up homes for poor children so they could have shelter, food, an education and allowed them to develop skills to find employment. He also wrote books on child welfare and was a generally nice guy. The first children's home was set up in 1970 with hundreds more following.

So yeah things are getting more exciting now, right?