A/N: Much thanks to Pere Falc, Alexia S. Luclwit, and Estriel...I feel so
loved!
***Back in Scotland Yard***
Jon sighed and rocked his chair back and forth. It had been a good two hours since Lestrade had left him alone and frankly, he was getting bored...very, very bored. It didn't help that he had a small attention span either and was just about to start a conversation with himself when the door to his room opened and yet another man whom he had never seen before stepped inside. The man looked to be about in his late forties, he had a well-cut beard and mustache, he was a little round in the middle, and he had a pleasant smile on his face. Jon was immediately suspicious, "Who are you?"
"I am Dr. Watson. I assume that you are the lad who witnessed the murder today?"
"I am...the name's Jonathan, or Jon if you want..."
"Jon it is then. I am here to bring you to my good friend who has just been put in charge of the investigation so you can answer some questions that he has."
"Look, I told that Lestrade guy everything I know..."
Dr. Watson smiled and walked towards Jon, "Really?"
That comment caught Jon off guard, "Well, um...ya, really."
"Well, I still need to take you to my friend...just to make sure." He motioned for Jon to follow him, but the boy didn't move, "Is there something wrong?"
"Where are you going to take me?"
"The sooner you come along, the sooner you will find out my dear boy! Now hurry up, or we shall be late!" Jon slowly got up and followed Watson out of the room and down the hallway, hands stuck deep in his pockets again, mind buzzing. The man called a handsome cab to take and they rode down the streets of London to a very nice neighborhood. The blinds on the windows were drawn tight, so Jon couldn't see outside which made him all the more uncomfortable.
Watson attempted to make polite conversations with Jon, but most of them didn't get very far. "So, where do you live?"
"In the poor district, down an alley."
"Oh. Hmm...well, what do your parents do for a living?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen either of them for five years..."
"Oh..."
"...But I...work at the docks."
"The docks? Pretty rough job."
"Ya..."
Watson smiled at the boy. There was something about him that made him very interesting. Actually, he seemed to be more of a young man than a boy to Watson and he was about to say so when the cab came to a stop and they arrived at Baker Street.
Watson stepped out of the cab, paid the driver, and led Jon up the steps to Holmes's door on which he knocked politely. Mrs. Hudson came to it and nodded at them, keeping her voice down as to not disturb Holmes and his client, "Go on in Dr. Watson. He is almost finished."
Watson thanked her and practically pushed Jon inside the house and into the sitting room. Holmes motioned for them to take a seat and turned back to the young man who was sitting across from him, "Well Mr. Bruse, I will see you again soon, but I am afraid that I have another appointment. I'll get in touch with you soon."
Mr. Bruse bowed and left the room in a hurry, as if embarrassed for intruding on someone else's time. Holmes watched him leave and stretched out in his chair after he heard the door close and waved at Watson, "It's good to see that you're back Watson. That meeting was dreadfully boring and I would have been delighted to have your company to lighten the mood. Ah, but that matter can wait, back to the murder of Sir Cullington. I presume that this is the witness Lestrade mentioned?" Watson nodded while Jon just stood there uncertainly, "Well sit down boy! Make yourself comfortable!" Jon looked a tad grateful and plopped down onto the third chair in the room, leaving the large one opposite from Holmes open for Watson.
While he was getting settled, Holmes looked the boy over quickly before starting the questions. He looked to be either fourteen or fifteen although by the looks of his hands and his boots he already did his fair share of hard labor, down at the docks by the look of the mud on his boots and his windblown hair. He was about as tall as Watson when he was standing and yet he had the physique of one who rarely gets a full meal three times a day. His coat was worn in the elbows and the bottom and he had the air of someone who was very independent and yet smart enough to stay alive on his own. But yet he seemed very familiar and it bothered Holmes, "So...Mr...What did you say your name was?"
"Jonathan."
"Well then Jonathan, I have a few questions to ask you." Jon didn't answer so Holmes continued, "There are some specifics that seem to be left out of your description of the murder."
"What?"
"This object that the larger man took from Cullington? What was it?"
"I don't know, I was half-way down in a barrel! But it looked like something small, like a piece of metal or something...it kind of looked round..."
Holmes's eyebrow rose and a cloud of smoke rose from his pipe, "Very good. Now did the larger man say anything to Cullington or give any hint to a possible motive for murder?"
Jon felt the letter in his pocket with his fingers, "No. He didn't say anything..."
Holmes saw Jon's fingers moving in with jacket, "What do you have in there, I wonder?"
Jon sighed inwardly and slowly pulled out the letter and handed it dejectedly to the detective, "It's something I found in Cullington's pocket after he was dead..."
Holmes quickly scanned the letter and handed it to Watson, "Well, that seemed to be a key piece of evidence. Why didn't you show it to Lestrade?"
"I don't know...I wanted answers that he wasn't giving me."
"What do you want to know. Maybe Watson and I can shed some light on your questions..."
"Who was Sir Henry Cullington?"
"He was a wealthy entrepreneur and worked as a salesman in his youth. He gained a lot of wealth and founded a club for wealthy gentlemen. Unfortunately for him in 1878 the clubs members lost their interest in it because of a rumor that was spread about Cullington. He lost most of his fortune and had to look elsewhere for a source of income. It is said that he made a few deals with some men who gave him money in exchange for positions of power in society but no one was able to prove anything. Once his fortune was returned, however it happened, Cullington once again became a noble citizen, until today when it seems that his past caught up with him."
Jon gaped at Holmes for a moment then shook it off, "Okay...So what do you need me here for?"
"Well, to date you are the only known witness of the crime and the only one who knows what the murder looks like, unless you would care to describe him to me with a little more detail, there are well over fifty men in London alone that could fit this description."
"I can't tell you anymore than I told Lestrade..."
"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?"
"Ya...probably."
Holmes nodded and began to sink deep into thought, his eyes zoning out and the smoke from his pipe became a steady stream.
Jon's gaze shifted from the detective to Watson who had begun to read from the day's newspaper, to Homes's large bookshelf, to the fireplace, to the mantel, at the pictures on the wall, and finally back at Holmes. His short attention span was failing again and after thirty minutes of this, he was about ready to go, "Um, Detective Holmes? May I go now?"
Sherlock nodded absent mindedly and Watson set down his paper and turned to Jon, "Don't mind him, he always gets in this sort of state when he is thinking over a case. If you tell me where you live, I'll send for a handsome to take you back home..."
Jon shook his head, "No, I'm fine...But, do you have the time?"
"Of course..." Watson took out a gold pocket watch and glanced at it, "Why it's...seven o' clock."
"Seven?" Jon leapt to his feet.
"Is there a problem my dear boy?"
He began to walk towards the door, "It's just that it'll be dark by the time I get home and I'm really supposed to be back before then."
"Well, if it's a problem, I'm sure you can always stay here for the night."
Jon stopped and looked around that house. It was nice enough, and it would be excellent to get a full nights sleep, "...All right...thanks..."
"Not a problem." Watson turned to Holmes who was still thinking, "If it's all right with you that is, Holmes."
Finally, the detective snapped out of it. He stared at Watson and blinked several times before saying, "If what it all right?"
"That the boy stays with you for the night."
"What? Watson, may I have a word with you...?" Holmes stood up and walked Watson over to the corner of the room and said in a low voice, "Watson, I cannot keep the boy here!"
"Why ever not?"
"I am not a child person...And he said himself that he has somewhere else to go for the night."
"Holmes, do you mean to tell me that you would let a fifteen year old boy walk himself home in the dark?"
"...Yes."
Watson sighed, "Why don't you just let Mrs. Hudson take care of him for the night?"
"Because tonight she won't be here and I'll be left alone with him."
"Holmes, you can handle it! It is just one boy for one night after all!" They heard a crash and whipped around to see Jon hurrying to pick up pieces of a shattered china vase. Sherlock turned back to look Watson in the eye, who shrugged and put his hat on, "Besides, I will be by first thing in the morning, and if either of you survive the night, we can get to work on this case."
Holmes hurried after Dr. Watson as he began to leave, "You can't leave me alone with him! Watson, come back here!"
"Good night Holmes...See in the morning..." Watson turned with a grin on his face and quickly walked down the steps of 221B Baker Street and hailed a handsome cab.
"Watson! I..." Sherlock was just about to call something out to the doctor when he felt a tug on his sleeve and he turned to face a semi- sheepish looking Jon.
"Excuse me, but I hope that vase wasn't worth much..."
Holmes sighed, closed the front door, stalked over, and flopped down into his armchair with his eyes shut, "Don't worry about it. I guess you are to stay here for the night so feel free to make yourself at home..." His eyes slid open and he saw Jon going through his book collection, "Just don't...touch anything..." Jon glanced at the book he was holding, shoved it back in its place and sat down in the open armchair across from his host. Sherlock glanced at his own pocket watch and turned back to the boy, "I'll tell you what...I am going to bed early tonight so I can get up early tomorrow when Watson arrived. You can sleep anywhere you wish in this room and I believe there is plenty of food in the kitchen if you get hungry."
Jon nodded and watched Holmes trudge into his bedroom and close his door. Only after he heard the click of the lock did he get up again and start to look through the bookcase again. It was amazing. He recognized every single one of them from his father's own library and was about to leaf through a thick encyclopedia when something else caught his eye and made his heart stop for a second. Next to the books on the shelf was a series of folders, all labeled with the names of various criminals, organizations, and important peoples, but one in particular was the one that caught his eye. It was thicker than all of the other folders and full of newspaper clippings, letters, and handwritten notes, and it was labeled Professor James Moriarty. Jon narrowed his eyes and picked the papers up and flipped through them, a sinking feeling was beginning to enter his chest and made it difficult for him to breathe. James Moriarty? It couldn't be...that was the name of his father...
A/N: Hehe...plot twist! Yay!
***Back in Scotland Yard***
Jon sighed and rocked his chair back and forth. It had been a good two hours since Lestrade had left him alone and frankly, he was getting bored...very, very bored. It didn't help that he had a small attention span either and was just about to start a conversation with himself when the door to his room opened and yet another man whom he had never seen before stepped inside. The man looked to be about in his late forties, he had a well-cut beard and mustache, he was a little round in the middle, and he had a pleasant smile on his face. Jon was immediately suspicious, "Who are you?"
"I am Dr. Watson. I assume that you are the lad who witnessed the murder today?"
"I am...the name's Jonathan, or Jon if you want..."
"Jon it is then. I am here to bring you to my good friend who has just been put in charge of the investigation so you can answer some questions that he has."
"Look, I told that Lestrade guy everything I know..."
Dr. Watson smiled and walked towards Jon, "Really?"
That comment caught Jon off guard, "Well, um...ya, really."
"Well, I still need to take you to my friend...just to make sure." He motioned for Jon to follow him, but the boy didn't move, "Is there something wrong?"
"Where are you going to take me?"
"The sooner you come along, the sooner you will find out my dear boy! Now hurry up, or we shall be late!" Jon slowly got up and followed Watson out of the room and down the hallway, hands stuck deep in his pockets again, mind buzzing. The man called a handsome cab to take and they rode down the streets of London to a very nice neighborhood. The blinds on the windows were drawn tight, so Jon couldn't see outside which made him all the more uncomfortable.
Watson attempted to make polite conversations with Jon, but most of them didn't get very far. "So, where do you live?"
"In the poor district, down an alley."
"Oh. Hmm...well, what do your parents do for a living?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen either of them for five years..."
"Oh..."
"...But I...work at the docks."
"The docks? Pretty rough job."
"Ya..."
Watson smiled at the boy. There was something about him that made him very interesting. Actually, he seemed to be more of a young man than a boy to Watson and he was about to say so when the cab came to a stop and they arrived at Baker Street.
Watson stepped out of the cab, paid the driver, and led Jon up the steps to Holmes's door on which he knocked politely. Mrs. Hudson came to it and nodded at them, keeping her voice down as to not disturb Holmes and his client, "Go on in Dr. Watson. He is almost finished."
Watson thanked her and practically pushed Jon inside the house and into the sitting room. Holmes motioned for them to take a seat and turned back to the young man who was sitting across from him, "Well Mr. Bruse, I will see you again soon, but I am afraid that I have another appointment. I'll get in touch with you soon."
Mr. Bruse bowed and left the room in a hurry, as if embarrassed for intruding on someone else's time. Holmes watched him leave and stretched out in his chair after he heard the door close and waved at Watson, "It's good to see that you're back Watson. That meeting was dreadfully boring and I would have been delighted to have your company to lighten the mood. Ah, but that matter can wait, back to the murder of Sir Cullington. I presume that this is the witness Lestrade mentioned?" Watson nodded while Jon just stood there uncertainly, "Well sit down boy! Make yourself comfortable!" Jon looked a tad grateful and plopped down onto the third chair in the room, leaving the large one opposite from Holmes open for Watson.
While he was getting settled, Holmes looked the boy over quickly before starting the questions. He looked to be either fourteen or fifteen although by the looks of his hands and his boots he already did his fair share of hard labor, down at the docks by the look of the mud on his boots and his windblown hair. He was about as tall as Watson when he was standing and yet he had the physique of one who rarely gets a full meal three times a day. His coat was worn in the elbows and the bottom and he had the air of someone who was very independent and yet smart enough to stay alive on his own. But yet he seemed very familiar and it bothered Holmes, "So...Mr...What did you say your name was?"
"Jonathan."
"Well then Jonathan, I have a few questions to ask you." Jon didn't answer so Holmes continued, "There are some specifics that seem to be left out of your description of the murder."
"What?"
"This object that the larger man took from Cullington? What was it?"
"I don't know, I was half-way down in a barrel! But it looked like something small, like a piece of metal or something...it kind of looked round..."
Holmes's eyebrow rose and a cloud of smoke rose from his pipe, "Very good. Now did the larger man say anything to Cullington or give any hint to a possible motive for murder?"
Jon felt the letter in his pocket with his fingers, "No. He didn't say anything..."
Holmes saw Jon's fingers moving in with jacket, "What do you have in there, I wonder?"
Jon sighed inwardly and slowly pulled out the letter and handed it dejectedly to the detective, "It's something I found in Cullington's pocket after he was dead..."
Holmes quickly scanned the letter and handed it to Watson, "Well, that seemed to be a key piece of evidence. Why didn't you show it to Lestrade?"
"I don't know...I wanted answers that he wasn't giving me."
"What do you want to know. Maybe Watson and I can shed some light on your questions..."
"Who was Sir Henry Cullington?"
"He was a wealthy entrepreneur and worked as a salesman in his youth. He gained a lot of wealth and founded a club for wealthy gentlemen. Unfortunately for him in 1878 the clubs members lost their interest in it because of a rumor that was spread about Cullington. He lost most of his fortune and had to look elsewhere for a source of income. It is said that he made a few deals with some men who gave him money in exchange for positions of power in society but no one was able to prove anything. Once his fortune was returned, however it happened, Cullington once again became a noble citizen, until today when it seems that his past caught up with him."
Jon gaped at Holmes for a moment then shook it off, "Okay...So what do you need me here for?"
"Well, to date you are the only known witness of the crime and the only one who knows what the murder looks like, unless you would care to describe him to me with a little more detail, there are well over fifty men in London alone that could fit this description."
"I can't tell you anymore than I told Lestrade..."
"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?"
"Ya...probably."
Holmes nodded and began to sink deep into thought, his eyes zoning out and the smoke from his pipe became a steady stream.
Jon's gaze shifted from the detective to Watson who had begun to read from the day's newspaper, to Homes's large bookshelf, to the fireplace, to the mantel, at the pictures on the wall, and finally back at Holmes. His short attention span was failing again and after thirty minutes of this, he was about ready to go, "Um, Detective Holmes? May I go now?"
Sherlock nodded absent mindedly and Watson set down his paper and turned to Jon, "Don't mind him, he always gets in this sort of state when he is thinking over a case. If you tell me where you live, I'll send for a handsome to take you back home..."
Jon shook his head, "No, I'm fine...But, do you have the time?"
"Of course..." Watson took out a gold pocket watch and glanced at it, "Why it's...seven o' clock."
"Seven?" Jon leapt to his feet.
"Is there a problem my dear boy?"
He began to walk towards the door, "It's just that it'll be dark by the time I get home and I'm really supposed to be back before then."
"Well, if it's a problem, I'm sure you can always stay here for the night."
Jon stopped and looked around that house. It was nice enough, and it would be excellent to get a full nights sleep, "...All right...thanks..."
"Not a problem." Watson turned to Holmes who was still thinking, "If it's all right with you that is, Holmes."
Finally, the detective snapped out of it. He stared at Watson and blinked several times before saying, "If what it all right?"
"That the boy stays with you for the night."
"What? Watson, may I have a word with you...?" Holmes stood up and walked Watson over to the corner of the room and said in a low voice, "Watson, I cannot keep the boy here!"
"Why ever not?"
"I am not a child person...And he said himself that he has somewhere else to go for the night."
"Holmes, do you mean to tell me that you would let a fifteen year old boy walk himself home in the dark?"
"...Yes."
Watson sighed, "Why don't you just let Mrs. Hudson take care of him for the night?"
"Because tonight she won't be here and I'll be left alone with him."
"Holmes, you can handle it! It is just one boy for one night after all!" They heard a crash and whipped around to see Jon hurrying to pick up pieces of a shattered china vase. Sherlock turned back to look Watson in the eye, who shrugged and put his hat on, "Besides, I will be by first thing in the morning, and if either of you survive the night, we can get to work on this case."
Holmes hurried after Dr. Watson as he began to leave, "You can't leave me alone with him! Watson, come back here!"
"Good night Holmes...See in the morning..." Watson turned with a grin on his face and quickly walked down the steps of 221B Baker Street and hailed a handsome cab.
"Watson! I..." Sherlock was just about to call something out to the doctor when he felt a tug on his sleeve and he turned to face a semi- sheepish looking Jon.
"Excuse me, but I hope that vase wasn't worth much..."
Holmes sighed, closed the front door, stalked over, and flopped down into his armchair with his eyes shut, "Don't worry about it. I guess you are to stay here for the night so feel free to make yourself at home..." His eyes slid open and he saw Jon going through his book collection, "Just don't...touch anything..." Jon glanced at the book he was holding, shoved it back in its place and sat down in the open armchair across from his host. Sherlock glanced at his own pocket watch and turned back to the boy, "I'll tell you what...I am going to bed early tonight so I can get up early tomorrow when Watson arrived. You can sleep anywhere you wish in this room and I believe there is plenty of food in the kitchen if you get hungry."
Jon nodded and watched Holmes trudge into his bedroom and close his door. Only after he heard the click of the lock did he get up again and start to look through the bookcase again. It was amazing. He recognized every single one of them from his father's own library and was about to leaf through a thick encyclopedia when something else caught his eye and made his heart stop for a second. Next to the books on the shelf was a series of folders, all labeled with the names of various criminals, organizations, and important peoples, but one in particular was the one that caught his eye. It was thicker than all of the other folders and full of newspaper clippings, letters, and handwritten notes, and it was labeled Professor James Moriarty. Jon narrowed his eyes and picked the papers up and flipped through them, a sinking feeling was beginning to enter his chest and made it difficult for him to breathe. James Moriarty? It couldn't be...that was the name of his father...
A/N: Hehe...plot twist! Yay!