Digging up Trouble
-Watson's POV-
Part of me wanted to talk to Holmes before I left, but I was still too disgruntled. I had made plans with Sam to meet early and dig a little under the steps before hiding in the storeroom. I walked again; but this time, London seemed oppressive and busy. I missed the peace of the morning walk. I missed Holmes.
I found Sam already digging and joined him, glad I'd worn my ripped the shirt and muddied pants. They'd gotten that way when I was working on a case with Holmes, though I didn't remember which.
We dug about two feet down, but then gave up.
"There's nothing here," Sam said. "We should get ready," Sam decided, sliding the dirt back into the hole and packing it in.
"Don't fall asleep," I jested.
"Not this time."
Sam had moved another chair into the storeroom so we both had seats. We sat there and watched as the light faded to make way for the darkness of night.
And the warmth gave way to the cold of night. By eleven I was freezing, even though I had worn my heavy coat and gloves. Then suddenly, I heard a soft scrape and a light shone in the doorway that divided the storeroom and the shop. A figure moved forward, the figure of a boy!