A/N: After this chapter I'll try to be more diligent about updating, but
I'm trying to finish my summer homework, so please excuse me for any
annoying delays...Oh! Thank you March Hare for reviewing a second time, I
am very appreciative that you review my story because my friends and I
greatly admire your own fanfics! One more thing! Before I completely
forget, I just wanted to add that any names that you do not recognize, I
have probably made up, so if I somehow manage to get someone's real last
name, it was purely coincidental*ahem* Anyways, back to the story!
***Baker Street, 11:00 pm***
Holmes quietly slunk outside onto the sidewalk, and closed his door after Watson and Jon had followed him out. He glanced around to make sure no one else was out at that hour, and seeing no one but the police man on the far street corner who was taking a nap, he motioned for the other two to follow him and they headed down the street as silently as they could. The only reason why they were trying to be so stealthy is because Holmes had warned them that if anybody saw them walking around, first of all they may call the police and slow down the investigation or they would follow them and he wasn't very keen on having anyone else join in on their little adventure. After all, three people was certainly enough for him as he would have preferred to go along, but Jon was the only one who could really identify the murder and he had brought Watson along to keep watch over the boy.
They headed down the street and turned down a side-road into a small neighborhood that was known for its shady dealings and mysterious disappearances. There were only two reasons for going there, either you were a criminal or you were extremely drunk and forgotten where you were walking. Of course, Holmes, Watson, and Jon were neither of those...but their reason for being there was different then most peoples.
Holmes checked the street address on a napkin that he had gotten from the man at the bar earlier that day and nodded at Watson, "Well, we are here..."
Jon glanced at the building from behind Watson and a look of disgust appeared on his face as his gaze shifted quickly from the peeling black paint on the side of the house, to the piles of trash and mud in front of it, to the boards that were nailed in front of the windows instead of panes of glass, "Ya, but where is here?"
Watson shrugged, "I have no idea...Holmes, what is this place? It looks as if it should be condemned..."
"It probably has been Watson. I am not familiar with this residence, but I am guessing that it is the home to an acquaintance of Mr. Bowmer."
Jon gazed at the house for a little longer, then turned to Holmes, "So...what now?"
"Now we wait. Until Bowmer arrives anyway, and then we will need to find a way to get close enough to him so that you can see his face and identify him. It is a very simple plan really..."
Jon grimaced, "But how often do things go according to plan?"
"When you are working with me boy, they always go as planned."
Jon raised his eyebrows disbelievingly and glanced around at the building across the street from Bowmer's, "Do you think that we would be able to hide around there to wait?"
Watson turned around and took a good look at the building, "It looks alright Holmes...it as deserted as a graveyard..."
The detective glanced back at it and nodded curtly, "I suppose it will do."
The three walked over and took their self-assigned positions; Holmes was crouched behind a barrel, Watson was standing in the shadows of a large beam, and Jon was sitting cross-legged behind a large shipping crate, and they began to wait.
***An hour later...***
Jon was now sprawled out with his legs propped up on the crate and his back on the ground, his eyes staring up at the bottom of the rotting overhang above them. It had begun to drizzle and it cast a sort of misty haze over the surroundings as Watson took out his pocket watch for the fifth time and glanced at it. He sighed and turned to Holmes, who was still crouching behind the barrel, looking for all the world as if they had only been waiting a minute, "Holmes, did your informant happen to mention a certain time that Bowmer often comes to this house?"
"No Watson, all he mentioned was '...late at night...' just as I told you."
Jon lifted his head up to glance at Holmes, then he slammed it back onto the porch again, "Perhaps he should have said early in the morning..."
Watson couldn't help smiling at the boy's comment but Holmes just ignored him. All of a sudden, the detective gave a little bounce and motioned for Jon to sit up and whispered, "Quick! Someone's coming!"
Jon obeyed and the three watched together as a burly man with a large overcoat that must have been Bowmer trudged down the middle of the street and stopped at the house across the street from them. Bowmer glanced shiftily around then walked quickly up to the front door of the old house and knocked three times on the door. It slowly creaked open and, after Bowmer had stepped inside, closed with a slam.
Holmes gave Watson a little nod and the two slunk stealthily over to the old house, their pistols drawn, and got right underneath one of the boarded up windows. Jon watched them slink over, glanced around and after making sure that no one else was out, stuffed his hands in his pockets and sauntered over to them. A soft glow was coming from inside the building now, along with the voices of two men. Holmes slowly raised his head and gazed into the house through a hole in one of the boards, his eyebrows knit together in concentration.
Bowmer was sitting down uncomfortably in a worn couch and another man was sitting with his back to the window in a high backed chair. Bowmer looked slightly nervous and kept on wiping his brow as if he were sweating a lot, and Holmes wasn't able to make out a word he was saying because he was speaking in a strained voice and stuttering so much that it would have been impossible to read his lips. Sherlock slowly lowered himself back underneath the window, trying not to make any sudden movements that would attract either of the men's attention and carefully motioned to Jon that he should take a look. Jon crawled over on his hands and knees and, following Holmes's example, slowly raised himself up so that he was just able to see inside.
He recognized Bowmer immediately and quickly kneeled back down under the window. He turned to Holmes and Watson and whispered, "That's him all right, looks exactly the same as he did when he murdered Cullington..."
Holmes motioned rapidly for Jon to shut up and after waiting a few tense moments of waiting absolutely silently for someone to come outside to investigate the sound, slowly rose again to look into the window...only to find himself staring into the grinning face of a certain Mr. Streicher. Holmes swore softly under his breath as the man took out a gun that was behind his back and pointed it at Sherlock's head, "Good to see you again Mr. Holmes. I see we are still having trouble keeping our nose out of other people's business...Won't you come inside where it's warm and have a little chat with us?"
Holmes glanced at the gun then back up at Streicher, "Well it does not seem that I have much of a choice. How did you escape from Scotland Yard?"
"When your boss is rich, almost anything is possible. It was just a matter of slipping the right amount of money into the right hands..." He waved the gun and Holmes slowly stood all the way up, motioning slightly to Watson to stay down and strolled over to the front door.
Jon tried to say something but Watson quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, pulled him back away from the door into the shadows, and watched as Holmes stepped inside, making sure to close the door tightly behind him.
Once voices could once again be heard coming from the room, Watson carefully dragged the now squirming Jon off of the house's front porch and off into the alleyway along the side of the house. Jon was finally able to break free and he turned and glared at Watson, "We can't just leave him there! Did you see that gun? They'll kill him!"
"I know, dear boy, but we can't just go rushing in there without a plan! You aren't even armed."
"I could make do! There has to be something sharp and dangerous in that house!"
"We must think it over first! The situation has become slightly more complex then I had first realized..."
Jon stopped muttering under his breath and stared at Watson, "...What do you mean?"
"That man who caught Holmes? His name is Streicher. We have dealt with him before and he can be very dangerous at times, although we have learned that he always follows his superior's orders exactly..."
"Who would that be?"
"The only one who has ever beaten Holmes and escaped capture time after time...Holmes's arch nemesis, Professor James Moriarty..."
Jon paled slightly and looked at the ground, "O-oh..."
"What's wrong boy? Are you all right Jon?"
"Y-yes, quite all right..." The doctor looked unconvinced and Jon broke, "Very well! If you must know..." he sighed as Watson gave a look of surprise at the sudden outburst, "The reason I wouldn't tell you my name? My whole name?" Watson nodded uncertainly, "It's because...because my real name in Jon...Jonathan Moriarty..."
Watson did a double take and stared at him, "What?! You're related to Professor Moriarty!?"
Jon winced at his tone, "Yes...actually...I think he is...he is my father..."
Watson's eyes bulged slightly and his jaw dropped. Several moments went by and suddenly, a smile appeared on Watson's face and he began to chuckle softly. Jon scowled and folded his arms across his chest, "What is it? I'm serious! I think that Moriarty is my father!"
"I believe you Jon...I was just imaging the look that Holmes is going to have when you tell him that!"
Jon's arms dropped and it was his turn to drop his jaw, "You mean you're, you're not angry?"
"Heavens no boy! Why would I be? You have yet to do anything wrong!...Well, anything serious anyway...It's not like you're exactly like your father..."
Jon nodded, not so certain about the whole thing as the now grinning Watson standing beside him. He frowned and then remembered why they were standing in the middle of a drizzly alley-way, "Watson! What about Holmes?!"
"Oh yes, well, I have an idea, it might not be the best idea, but it will certainly do the trick for the moment. All I need from you is a distraction."
Jon narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "What kind of distraction?"
"Well, my thought is this. You rush in and distract the two men and somehow get them to leave the room. I get Holmes out of there and, seeing how quickly you were able to run this morning...actually it would be yesterday morning, wouldn't it?...you can escape the two men and we will meet up again back at Baker Street."
Jon stared at him blankly, "That's your plan?" Watson nodded, "Well, hell, I say let's do it! It sounds good and fool proof to me!"
"Excellent! So you go first and I'll follow you after you run out with both Bowmer and Streicher following you..."
Jon nodded and walked over to the edge of the porch and readied himself to do the stupidest thing he could ever remember attempting to do in his while life.
***Baker Street, 11:00 pm***
Holmes quietly slunk outside onto the sidewalk, and closed his door after Watson and Jon had followed him out. He glanced around to make sure no one else was out at that hour, and seeing no one but the police man on the far street corner who was taking a nap, he motioned for the other two to follow him and they headed down the street as silently as they could. The only reason why they were trying to be so stealthy is because Holmes had warned them that if anybody saw them walking around, first of all they may call the police and slow down the investigation or they would follow them and he wasn't very keen on having anyone else join in on their little adventure. After all, three people was certainly enough for him as he would have preferred to go along, but Jon was the only one who could really identify the murder and he had brought Watson along to keep watch over the boy.
They headed down the street and turned down a side-road into a small neighborhood that was known for its shady dealings and mysterious disappearances. There were only two reasons for going there, either you were a criminal or you were extremely drunk and forgotten where you were walking. Of course, Holmes, Watson, and Jon were neither of those...but their reason for being there was different then most peoples.
Holmes checked the street address on a napkin that he had gotten from the man at the bar earlier that day and nodded at Watson, "Well, we are here..."
Jon glanced at the building from behind Watson and a look of disgust appeared on his face as his gaze shifted quickly from the peeling black paint on the side of the house, to the piles of trash and mud in front of it, to the boards that were nailed in front of the windows instead of panes of glass, "Ya, but where is here?"
Watson shrugged, "I have no idea...Holmes, what is this place? It looks as if it should be condemned..."
"It probably has been Watson. I am not familiar with this residence, but I am guessing that it is the home to an acquaintance of Mr. Bowmer."
Jon gazed at the house for a little longer, then turned to Holmes, "So...what now?"
"Now we wait. Until Bowmer arrives anyway, and then we will need to find a way to get close enough to him so that you can see his face and identify him. It is a very simple plan really..."
Jon grimaced, "But how often do things go according to plan?"
"When you are working with me boy, they always go as planned."
Jon raised his eyebrows disbelievingly and glanced around at the building across the street from Bowmer's, "Do you think that we would be able to hide around there to wait?"
Watson turned around and took a good look at the building, "It looks alright Holmes...it as deserted as a graveyard..."
The detective glanced back at it and nodded curtly, "I suppose it will do."
The three walked over and took their self-assigned positions; Holmes was crouched behind a barrel, Watson was standing in the shadows of a large beam, and Jon was sitting cross-legged behind a large shipping crate, and they began to wait.
***An hour later...***
Jon was now sprawled out with his legs propped up on the crate and his back on the ground, his eyes staring up at the bottom of the rotting overhang above them. It had begun to drizzle and it cast a sort of misty haze over the surroundings as Watson took out his pocket watch for the fifth time and glanced at it. He sighed and turned to Holmes, who was still crouching behind the barrel, looking for all the world as if they had only been waiting a minute, "Holmes, did your informant happen to mention a certain time that Bowmer often comes to this house?"
"No Watson, all he mentioned was '...late at night...' just as I told you."
Jon lifted his head up to glance at Holmes, then he slammed it back onto the porch again, "Perhaps he should have said early in the morning..."
Watson couldn't help smiling at the boy's comment but Holmes just ignored him. All of a sudden, the detective gave a little bounce and motioned for Jon to sit up and whispered, "Quick! Someone's coming!"
Jon obeyed and the three watched together as a burly man with a large overcoat that must have been Bowmer trudged down the middle of the street and stopped at the house across the street from them. Bowmer glanced shiftily around then walked quickly up to the front door of the old house and knocked three times on the door. It slowly creaked open and, after Bowmer had stepped inside, closed with a slam.
Holmes gave Watson a little nod and the two slunk stealthily over to the old house, their pistols drawn, and got right underneath one of the boarded up windows. Jon watched them slink over, glanced around and after making sure that no one else was out, stuffed his hands in his pockets and sauntered over to them. A soft glow was coming from inside the building now, along with the voices of two men. Holmes slowly raised his head and gazed into the house through a hole in one of the boards, his eyebrows knit together in concentration.
Bowmer was sitting down uncomfortably in a worn couch and another man was sitting with his back to the window in a high backed chair. Bowmer looked slightly nervous and kept on wiping his brow as if he were sweating a lot, and Holmes wasn't able to make out a word he was saying because he was speaking in a strained voice and stuttering so much that it would have been impossible to read his lips. Sherlock slowly lowered himself back underneath the window, trying not to make any sudden movements that would attract either of the men's attention and carefully motioned to Jon that he should take a look. Jon crawled over on his hands and knees and, following Holmes's example, slowly raised himself up so that he was just able to see inside.
He recognized Bowmer immediately and quickly kneeled back down under the window. He turned to Holmes and Watson and whispered, "That's him all right, looks exactly the same as he did when he murdered Cullington..."
Holmes motioned rapidly for Jon to shut up and after waiting a few tense moments of waiting absolutely silently for someone to come outside to investigate the sound, slowly rose again to look into the window...only to find himself staring into the grinning face of a certain Mr. Streicher. Holmes swore softly under his breath as the man took out a gun that was behind his back and pointed it at Sherlock's head, "Good to see you again Mr. Holmes. I see we are still having trouble keeping our nose out of other people's business...Won't you come inside where it's warm and have a little chat with us?"
Holmes glanced at the gun then back up at Streicher, "Well it does not seem that I have much of a choice. How did you escape from Scotland Yard?"
"When your boss is rich, almost anything is possible. It was just a matter of slipping the right amount of money into the right hands..." He waved the gun and Holmes slowly stood all the way up, motioning slightly to Watson to stay down and strolled over to the front door.
Jon tried to say something but Watson quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, pulled him back away from the door into the shadows, and watched as Holmes stepped inside, making sure to close the door tightly behind him.
Once voices could once again be heard coming from the room, Watson carefully dragged the now squirming Jon off of the house's front porch and off into the alleyway along the side of the house. Jon was finally able to break free and he turned and glared at Watson, "We can't just leave him there! Did you see that gun? They'll kill him!"
"I know, dear boy, but we can't just go rushing in there without a plan! You aren't even armed."
"I could make do! There has to be something sharp and dangerous in that house!"
"We must think it over first! The situation has become slightly more complex then I had first realized..."
Jon stopped muttering under his breath and stared at Watson, "...What do you mean?"
"That man who caught Holmes? His name is Streicher. We have dealt with him before and he can be very dangerous at times, although we have learned that he always follows his superior's orders exactly..."
"Who would that be?"
"The only one who has ever beaten Holmes and escaped capture time after time...Holmes's arch nemesis, Professor James Moriarty..."
Jon paled slightly and looked at the ground, "O-oh..."
"What's wrong boy? Are you all right Jon?"
"Y-yes, quite all right..." The doctor looked unconvinced and Jon broke, "Very well! If you must know..." he sighed as Watson gave a look of surprise at the sudden outburst, "The reason I wouldn't tell you my name? My whole name?" Watson nodded uncertainly, "It's because...because my real name in Jon...Jonathan Moriarty..."
Watson did a double take and stared at him, "What?! You're related to Professor Moriarty!?"
Jon winced at his tone, "Yes...actually...I think he is...he is my father..."
Watson's eyes bulged slightly and his jaw dropped. Several moments went by and suddenly, a smile appeared on Watson's face and he began to chuckle softly. Jon scowled and folded his arms across his chest, "What is it? I'm serious! I think that Moriarty is my father!"
"I believe you Jon...I was just imaging the look that Holmes is going to have when you tell him that!"
Jon's arms dropped and it was his turn to drop his jaw, "You mean you're, you're not angry?"
"Heavens no boy! Why would I be? You have yet to do anything wrong!...Well, anything serious anyway...It's not like you're exactly like your father..."
Jon nodded, not so certain about the whole thing as the now grinning Watson standing beside him. He frowned and then remembered why they were standing in the middle of a drizzly alley-way, "Watson! What about Holmes?!"
"Oh yes, well, I have an idea, it might not be the best idea, but it will certainly do the trick for the moment. All I need from you is a distraction."
Jon narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "What kind of distraction?"
"Well, my thought is this. You rush in and distract the two men and somehow get them to leave the room. I get Holmes out of there and, seeing how quickly you were able to run this morning...actually it would be yesterday morning, wouldn't it?...you can escape the two men and we will meet up again back at Baker Street."
Jon stared at him blankly, "That's your plan?" Watson nodded, "Well, hell, I say let's do it! It sounds good and fool proof to me!"
"Excellent! So you go first and I'll follow you after you run out with both Bowmer and Streicher following you..."
Jon nodded and walked over to the edge of the porch and readied himself to do the stupidest thing he could ever remember attempting to do in his while life.