15. From W. Y. Traveller: Holmes and Watson happen upon a Christmas tree.
When Wiggins arrived for his report on a crime gang Holmes was tracking, he hesitated after receiving his shilling.
"Do you require anything else, Wiggins?" Watson inquired.
"Can I have some tinsel and popcorn?" he burst out. "Decorating, ya know."
Holmes smiled. "I don't see why not. Your information is enormously helpful. Here is the tinsel- ask Mrs. Hudson for the popcorn and thread on your way out."
"I believe she's baking pumpkin bread as well," I added.
Over the next week or so, nearly every Irregular that reported either asked for baubles or had some on their persons they'd purchased with their wages. "I daresay they've found a common decor target," Holmes said. "I wonder if we shall have occasion to see it sometime."
Holmes' words proved prophetic. Little Tommy came to our door the day before Christmas, as clean and presentable as a little street urchin could be, and invited us with great dignity to the "Baker Street Irregulars Christmas Extravaganza," complete with a smudged handwritten invitation.
"Allow us to get our coats," I said. Tommy waited, then led us into the park, off the path a bit. We trudged through the snow and came upon a mass of our Irregulars, shined and clean enough, around a fir tree they had clearly decorated themselves. It was messy and lovely, strung with tinsel and bows and candles and a baubles and popcorn, concentrated on the lower branches that they could more easily reach.
Wiggins stepped up. "Thank ya for coming," he said gravely. "Many of us don't have a Christmas tree at home, an' some don't have no family, so we decided to decorate a tree for everyone. We didn't have a ton of money, but we got ya both somethin'." He nodded at Jack and Alfie, and they presented us with two pipe-shaped blobs wrapped hastily in newspaper and twine.
"Whittled 'em myself," Wiggins said. "There's an engraving on the bottom of each."
To Dr. W- from BSIs.
To Mr. Holmes- from BSIs.
"Thank you kindly, boys," Holmes said, laying a hand on Wiggins' shoulder. Their little faces glowed with pride.
"Do you like the tree?" Tommy asked, clearly bursting with pride.
"It's far lovelier than ours," I replied.
"One last thing," Wiggins said. "Alright, boys, attention." They lined up neatly, and launched into an angelic, only slightly off-key chorus of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman." My heart softened with pride and care for our little urchins, and beside me I knew Holmes was feeling the same. We clapped heartily for them as they finished, and took a bow.
"Come, Irregulars," Holmes said. "Mrs. Hudson will have a warm meal ready at Baker Street. Eat, be merry, and then those of you who have family to tend to, go home for the holiday. The rest can stay with us tonight."
They skipped off ahead of us, cheering. "Dear Watson, do we have oranges and candy canes from 'Father Christmas?'" he murmured to me. I hid my glee, as Holmes and I often differed on this point. "I think I can find some to give."
"Ah, good. They are bright boys, are they not, Watson? I think, given the chance, they will go far in the world."
"I couldn't agree more," I said, taking his arm. "They are a blessing to us as we are to them."