I took more care than usual over my toilet and appearance, for I was at some loss as to where to take my friend to ease his suffering. As a man of medicine it is difficult to be faced with a sickness that none of my professional ministrations could cure. And as both a soldier and a doctor, I knew well the feeling of guilt that one's own actions were associated with the death of another.

Despite his mood, Holmes seemed to be lifted somewhat, and followed me to town with more zeal than I had expected. As our cab passed the Yard and turned the corner from Whitehall to Great Scotland Yard, the public office, he took hold of my forearm.
"You are truly a great friend, Watson."

I nodded and he gathered himself, ready to get out.

As we walked from the cab into the now very familiar building, I contemplated the situation. It was not often that Holmes, and much less I, actively pursued a case in this manner. Cases could be stumbled on in the path of some other affair, or brought to us by an involved party. The intriguing and the mysterious were much more wont to find us, than we, them.

I asked for Lestrade, for Mr Sherlock Holmes, at the desk, and a young officer went to find him. Holmes seemed to have taken much more of a background demeanour, and looked about him as we waited.

The Constable returned. "The Inspector is not here yet, Sir," he said. "The duty Inspector is Sergeant Mabyn- I mean Inspector Mabyn. I can fetch him, Sir, if you'd like?"

I nodded and he left again. His was not a name that I recognised.

"Do you know Mabyn, Holmes?"

"No."

I turned to look in the direction that the Constable had taken. There were various folk coming to and going from the offices.

"That is to say, I have not met him. But he is recently promoted, and a recent transfer to the Yard as is this young man, and is a Cornishman who has spent some years in London."

I smiled. He sounded much more himself, and his inferences excited me as always.

"How do you know this, Holmes?"

This was of particular intrigue, as Holmes had not met the man, nor heard him speak.

"The name Mabyn is a Cornish name. The fact that the young Constable, who is clearly a Londoner, spoke it with such a West Country lilt says that he has imitated its sound from Mabyn himself saying it; our man has a Cornish accent. He must have lived, at least for his childhood, in Cornwall."
"His transfer, and recent promotion?"

"The Constable called him Sergeant by mistake, suggesting he is used to calling him so and has only recently had to change his salutation. Mabyn has been recently transferred; on the end of the desk is a box of placards and labels bearing his name, presumably for use about his offices. The fact that he is so familiar to the young Constable says that they knew each other before this and that he too is a recent transfer."

My eyes told Holmes he had left some gaps that I was unable to fill and a small smile lit his face as he continued.

"He has been in London for some years; most recruits to the Metropolitan Police Service hail from outside London, but a man from outside the force would not be appointed in as an Inspector."

"Bravo," I said, but I was, of course, waiting for the arrival of the man himself to see if Holmes was accurate in his deductions.

He duly did. He cannot have been more that thirty, young for an Inspector, and though he was dressed like a city man, wore boots instead of shoes.

"Can I help you, Mr Holmes?" asked Mabyn, addressing me. I stifled a smile as he indeed spoke with a thick Cornish accent.

"I am Dr John Watson," I said. "This is Mr Holmes."

Holmes nodded acknowledgement.
"Inspector Lestrade has told me of your assistance to the Yard in some of our cases, and I had indeed heard of you at Bow Street."

"Bow Street?" I asked.

"Yes, I am only recently appointed to the Yard."

I almost smiled again. Holmes did so, but immediately his face hardened again as he addressed Mabyn.
"Where is Lestrade?" he asked.

"He is over at the Embankment, looking over the works on the new building with some of the senior officers. I am sure he will return soon; there is little to see over there apart from earthworks and navvies."

"Indeed. We are looking into the matter of the three children pulled from the Thames."

"A tragedy, to be sure, Sir. Are you to claim one of the boys?"
"No, I am investigating their deaths."

Mabyn cocked his head to one side, perplexed. "Investigating what, Sir? They drowned."

"Three children, drowned in the river, in three days. Were the facts of the matter reported accurately by the press? That they are all unidentified and unclaimed?"

"Yes, Sir."
"That does not strike you as unusual?"

"Not especially so, Sir. Many folk drown in the river. They did drown, our surgeon reports all of them had water in their lungs, so they all were alive before they went in."
"And the circumstances of their demise? That they occurred so close together in time and location, and nobody has missed them?"

"Plenty of youngsters in the city are without anyone to miss them, Mr Holmes. And while it is unusual for so many to occur in succession, I certainly would not call it suspicious. There is positively no evidence of foul play."
Holmes eyed the Inspected, vexed. He seemed to have weighed up all of the facts at hand, as might I, and come up with a likely explanation. But Holmes did not deal in likelihoods and suspicion. He dealt in cause and effect, facts and evidence. I would normally have expected him to erupt into an argument with the man, determined to change his mind, but he did not.

"Good day, Inspector, and thank you." He nodded to Mabyn and guided me outside.

"Are you all right, Holmes?" I asked him.

"He has the worst kind of closed mind, Watson. He is concerned with using the facts to find evidence when surely it must be the other way around. We must speak with our friend, Lestrade."

"He is out, Holmes."
"The footings of New Scotland Yard are being laid on the Embankment around the corner. Amongst the earthworks and navvies, I am sure we shall find him easy to spot."

His manner was still very sad, and his sunken eyes gave away his depression even on the trail of a case to one who knew him so well. He was now on a mission for personal truth as well as plain truth, and so could not pursue his work with the usual absence of emotional distraction. However, I was impressed with his new zeal for the situation and followed him towards the river.