We arrived at the Embankment, only a short walk away. It was rather cold, and we walked briskly. Holmes remained silent.
A huge chasm lay open before us on the riverbank. A small army of men swarmed like ants over mounds of earth and piles of bricks, pillars and platforms. Some were hacking with picks at the frozen ground, some digging, and others still pushing barrows around. Boys were passing bricks hand-to-hand along a line, and artisans took them, crafting narrow archways, which rose from the sodden ground like a sea monster.
Walking among the activity was a party of men in overcoats, heading towards us, for here there was a great ramp, rising from the pit.
"Lestrade," said Holmes. "And, if I am not mistaken, Mr Norman Shaw."
"Norman Shaw?" I asked, as Holmes' tone seemed to expect that I would recognise the name.
"The architect of New Scotland Yard. He is of some note, having designed various buildings about town. He favours a flamboyant style."
Holmes stood waiting for the party to move toward us. I regarded the work going on below us with some interest, but Holmes stared intently at the far end of the site.
"Fascinating, quite fascinating, Watson," he said.
"Yes, Holmes. They work like bees; each with his own purpose, but also functioning together as one."
Holmes smiled; he had a passion for the habits of bees.
"Indeed, but I refer to the construction of the site."
He beckoned towards the river.
"This is land reclaimed from the river during the construction of the embankment. This area has been dug down to a depth at least eight feet below the current level of the river. It is a grand achievement of the engineering world that they are able to keep out the water."
I nodded, intrigued. But I knew Holmes too well. He had no interest in the river to this end; he was trying to distract himself.
Approaching the ramp, the party broke up and wandered away on reaching street level. A dark, thin figure approached us.
"Mr Holmes; Dr Watson, good morning! If you had only arrived sooner I would have arranged for you to take the tour!" said Lestrade.
"Good morning, Lestrade," said Holmes, and I nodded to him.
"It is a great moment in the history of the Metropolitan police, gentlemen. This new building will revolutionise the way the force operates."
"Really?" I asked. I thought that Lestrade sounded very excited. Much as he was sometimes an obstruction to Holmes in his pursuits of the criminals of London, Lestrade cared a great deal for the public of this great city, and had a great zeal for having the ne'er do wells removed from its streets.
"It's wonderful! And did you know that the stone for this building is being quarried by prisoners doing hard labour on Dartmoor!"
I smiled at this prospect and wondered if the inmates, some of whom undoubtedly had been put away by Lestrade himself, knew what they were quarrying for.
"We have been looking for you, Lestrade. We spoke to a young Inspector at the Yard who was most obtuse on the matter," said Holmes.
"What matter?" asked Lestrade, obviously interested.
"We are investigating the deaths of several children recently having been pulled from the Thames," said Holmes.
"Investigating?" asked Lestrade, with raised eyebrows.
"Yes, Lestrade. In addition to the death of another child in similar circumstances some months ago."
Lestrade looked pensive. He shot a sideways glance at Holmes, perhaps trying to ascertain what the great detective was thinking. "I am aware of the deaths that you describe. They are not my particular dealing, you understand, as they are not a criminal matter-,"
"How can you be so sure?" asked Holmes, almost accusingly. His emotions were running high, and this was not something often seen outside of our rooms at Baker Street, and it made Lestrade nervous. He continued.
"I have taken some interest. My young colleague tells me it is a mathematical statistical anomaly."
"A statistical anomaly?" I enquired.
"Yes," said Lestrade, chewing on his words. "We expect to have a certain number of drownings a year, and, plus or minus a few, and it just happens that we have a few in a shorter space of time than usual. It will even out over the course of the year."
This comment perturbed Holmes. "Does the manner of their deaths not attract the interest of the police?"
"What manner? They drowned."
"There is a cause to every effect, Lestrade," said Holmes, sadly.
Holmes' circling the point of the conversation and manner caused Lestrade to look at me, and I nodded to him. Though I did not doubt my friend's assertion that there was something amiss in these incidents, I did feel also that he was reading more into it, and in particular, to his involvement, than was apparent to me.
Lestrade beckoned us to walk with him; it was quite cold, and though not actually snowing, the icy bite in the air made in uncomfortable to stand still out in the cold. We set off along the river in the direction of King's College. There were few others around because of the weather, and although not frozen over, lumps of ice from further upstream bounced about at the edge of the river.
Holmes tucked his face into his scarf and thrust his hands into opposite coat sleeves. He kept a brisk pace which I found difficult to sustain; my old wound gave me some discomfort in the cold weather.
"Are you all right, Mr Holmes?" asked Lestrade.
Holmes looked as pale and wiry as ever, but it was not after his physical state that Lestrade enquired. He asked nervously, as though he were afraid he was overstepping his position.
"It is my belief that one of the unfortunates met his fate on an errand for me. One of the irregulars."
"Ah," said Lestrade. He was prepared to admit their sometimes instrumental value in solving some of our most sinister cases, but I think Lestrade saw them as being a little too close to the class of criminal he was often trying to catch and did not greet their use enthusiastically. "What makes you say that?"
"This boy disappears whilst involved in business for the irregulars. He has a family, and yet is not missed or claimed for almost six months. He was in good health and in employment. Now we hear of three other deaths in similar circumstances, in the same area, the same class of child. And all children."
"Well we have pulled adults from the river, also, Mr Holmes."
"The reasons that adults have to end up at the mercy of the Thames are for greater in number than those of a child, Lestrade. Where the death of a child is a tragic accident, there are always those who will miss him. When it is criminal, there are those who are guilty. Where there is no cry of tragedy, no witness, no clue as to their demise, and a pattern of misfortune such as this, there is something afoot."
Lestrade and I stood quiet. Holmes was quite right. On the face of it, there did not seem anything untoward in the incidences. But Holmes can see patterns and shapes in the darkest of tunnels, and I was sure to follow him. I found it sad too that if Holmes did not enquire about these children, it was unlikely that anybody ever would, and with no signs of violence or criminal act, the resources of the Metropolitan Police were far more likely to be deployed elsewhere.
"Perhaps we should return to the Yard, gentlemen."
We set off down Whitehall Place in pursuit of the Inspector.