From PowerofPens: An Inspector sees Holmes at his most human

We saw a fair bit of Mister Holmes in our day. Of course, he was there for the famous cases, the press spectacles, the ones our good Doctor wrote up for the publishers. In the early days he was there for what felt like all of them. Those of us in the older generation remember the days. We were young and eager too, but there was always a mania about the gawking lad at the crime scenes that made us remark on him. A handful of nicknames got thrown about before we were all introduced. A bobbie could say 'Look, there's the Scarecrow' or 'Here comes Eyes' and any of us who'd seen him before would know.

And then he went and solved a murder within fifteen seconds of sighting the corpse. None of us that heard of it believed it, and none of us that were there would ever forget. He'd worked his way as close as he was able without painting a target on himself. I'd spotted him this time and passed out the general warning. Mostly we got a kick out of watching him, like we assumed he got his from being close to crime. He did his dance through the other passers-by and arrived at the barricade just as Inspector Barrow was leading the suspect from the house.

"Inspector, I am innocent! You know I never left my rooms, and Matthew never entered them!" I was watching as a matter of course but none of the other lads gave him the time of day. Sir William Trelane was a young-ish gentleman who we had dead to rights on killing his brother. His eyes were red-rimmed but not a one of us believed the tears were genuine. Of course, he'd broken down at the sight of Matthew Trelane laying in the street, but we all knew it was the guilt of pushing him out the window.

We all knew, didn't we? We sure thought so, until the Scarecrow had enough and pushed his way through.

"Inspector! There is no way this man could have murdered the gentleman under the sheet there."

Every man inside the cordon stopped dead. We were all staring at our crime-scene shadow like he'd grown a second head, or announced publicly he was going to blow up Big Ben. My first thought was that he was off his rocker. One crime scene too many, or he took that French detective character too seriously.

Inspector Barrow thought differently, but no better. "So he couldn't have killed our murder victim eh, sir? He was the only one upstairs, never left the room the victim fell from. The housekeeper was outside the very door when she heard the scream, and a moment later the butler came running up too, said no one had been down the stairs. How do you account for it?"

The lad pointed up at the window. I looked, if just to see what he was driving at. It was a tall affair on the second story* with a small patio and a wooden railing wrapped around it. There wasn't room enough there for three men to stand, so it had to have been the brother.

"The railing is rotted through at the bottom. How could a man of the victim's size be pushed from the second story window and not take it with him? You can send up any of your men to test the integrity, but they had best be careful." There was a gleam in the lad's eyes, as if he'd been waiting months to say this very thing.

"It's true!" The brother spoke up. "No one goes out on the railing for safety's sake. As Mrs. Sykes, she will tell you!"

Inspector Barrow pushed his suspect aside and got (as best he was able) nose to nose with our lanky friend. "What, then? Mister Matthew Trelane just fell from the sky, is that it?"

The scarecrow shook his head. "Not at all Inspector. See to the first story window." He pointed up again. "There's no balcony attached to it, and the smudges in the dust might prove to match those on Mister Matthew's jacket." One of the bobbies saw the victim's shoulder peeking out from the shroud and moved to cover it.

"The height's hardly enough to kill him."

"I think you'll find it's more than enough. In any case, it would be best to check the room for another murder weapon-"

"I've had enough from you!" Barrow bellowed. "Make yourself scarce, or I will arrest you for interfering with an investigation!"

The young man paled, looked as if he was going to say something, but thought better of it. He turned on his heel and bolted my way, as far from the Inspector as he could get. I watched him coming up and was surprised to see nothing written on his face. Nothing at all. He was as blank as a statue… He brushed past me and turned the corner into the alley.

"See he goes." Inspector Bellows said more quietly.

"Yes sir."

I didn't want to chase him off, not anymore, but I followed him the length of the alley and turned the corner to make sure he headed off the right way. I didn't expect to nearly run into him as he was waiting for me. I jumped back, looking plenty bewildered I'm sure.

He was just as tall and spindly up close. But there was something I could see now that I hadn't caught before. His eyes were boring into me like they'd done with every inch of the crime scene. Only, he didn't look angry or excited or any of the expected things. Didn't look like he was after a fight. He looked like a man who'd taken a gamble and lost it all. Those were sadder eyes than William Trelane's by a long shot.

"I mean to leave, Constable, at once. If you will permit one question." I nodded and let him ask. "Was I wrong? My theory or my decision to interject- you can take your pick."

For a moment I was flummoxed, but I knew the answer and was speaking it before I realized. "No you weren't, sir. About either. Once you pointed out the railing, we could all see it. Barrows wanted to save face." I paused. "How did you see it when we all missed it?"

I wasn't sure then why I was so relieved to see him cheer up like he did. He smiled, laughed a little bit, and said "I aim to make it my business, seeing things others miss. I wanted to know and… I didn't want William Trelane to hang for the murder. I would check his butler. Pardon the phrase, but my money's on him being a bookie of some sort. Likely killed Matthew Trelane over a gambling debt."

I glanced up and down the alley. Coast was clear. "I'll do it. Can't promise they'll listen to me, but I'll do the due dilligence."

The man's grin widened. "The Yard is matchless in their thoroughness and method. I won't forget you, Constable."

"Nor I you, sir, if you ever do get into practice and we have a tougher case than we can crack."

"Excellent!" Said he, and stuck out his hand. "Holmes."

"Lestrade." We shook. "Now," I raised my voice just a little. "Clear off! Nothing to see here, no business of the public."

With a laugh he began back on his way down the street. Before I had the chance to go and before he'd gone too far, he turned to call back.

"Marry her, Lestrade! If she loves you enough to stay around with a Constable and those horrid hours, I imagine she will stay well past 'Inspector'!"

Cheeky. Insufferable. But, he was never wrong, and just as human as any of us.

A/N: *second story British, third floor American. thought I'd clarify because I doubt the 'ground floor' drop would make any sense. also I'M American and that always confuses me. like I understand it but... confusing