The Irregulars crowded around anxiously as I eased their comrade's head up gently. Alfie's temperature was still high, and each rattling breath he drew sent a barb through my heart.

"It's too dangerous for him to remain here," I murmured, as another fit of coughing shook his tiny frame. "But-"

Even without looking outside, I could tell that the wind had picked up. It wasn't safe to carry the boy through such weather. But if I didn't-

"Has Wiggins returned yet?"

"Not yet, 'octor."

I sighed with frustration and put a hand on Alfie's forehead. Still warm. This wasn't any good. If only-

"'Octor?" All of us turned toward the bed as Alfie's eyes opened, barely the fraction of an inch.

"Dr. Watson?"

"Yes, lad." I murmured gently, putting my hand atop his. "Its me."

He coughed again. "So 'ired…."

"I know, Alfie," I whispered, softly patting his hand "But you can't give in now. The worst is yet to come."

"Hurts…."

I felt a slight dampness trickle down my cheek, but angrily brushed it away. Looking at the pale, petrified faces around me, I said, "I need to distract him from his pain. He can't fight very well because of it. Can one of you talk to him, try to make him forget?"

A dozen eager voices quickly assented and soon Alfie was surrounded by his friends.



"Carefully! Don't squeeze in so much, you'll block out the air." I eased them back a little. "There, now."

I listened to the eager little stories told in scraps and pieces by his companions and felt a smile creep on my face. There could not be more beautiful scene then this, a little boy, surrounded by a dozen or more of his friends, talking and laughing, eager to draw him out of his illness.

As I turned around to pull my thermometer out of my medical bag, a felt a little tug on my arm. Colin looked up at me, his eyes wide.

"Doctor," his voice was a low tremble, "Alfie wants to sleep, but he-he-"

I understood immediately. The high fever must be preventing his sleep, the very thing he needed the most. I pursed my lips.

" Doctor, can you-can you-"

"I can't put him to sleep, Colin." I said gently, as the other Irregulars turned to look at me. "I don't know what effect such drugs might have on him."

"Not like that." Colin shook his head firmly. "The- other way."

"Other way?" I was mystified.

Colin went a little red. "That day, on Christmas Eve, well, Wiggins and I heard you…singing in your house…when Mr. Holmes wasn't there." He stopped, looking embarrassed. "You had a nice voice."

I went red immediately. My God, had he heard me?

"It was…nothing, Colin. A bit of Christmas cheer." God forbid Holmes ever find out.

Colin bit his lip and looked back at the rest of the silent group.

"Its just that….we were wondering if-"

A thought crossed my mind. Did he want me to-



"Please, doctor?" Colin put his hands on my knee and looked at me with pleading eyes. "He's really tired. And we want him to sleep."

I closed my eyes. It couldn't hurt, could it? One song.

"Alright, then. One song."

The children gathered eagerly around as I sat down beside Alfie who gently tilted his head to regard me.

"Here we go then." I murmured, then took a deep breath.

The song I sung was not an English one. It was one I had heard long ago, in the sands of Maiwand, drifting through the air, and it had remained in my heart and mind since then.

I do not know why I chose to sing this song. Suffice to say it was the first one which came to my lips. As the soft notes slowly floated away and died, I looked around to see the Irregulars watching me intently.

"It was a very pretty song, doctor." Whispered Colin.

I reached out and touched Alfie. His breathing was slow and only a slight bit shallow. He was asleep.

"Well done, my dear fellow."

I turned around to see Holmes enter the room, Lestrade behind him. At his heels, was Wiggins.

Holmes indicated Alfie, smiling softly. "Time we took him to Baker street, don't you agree, my boy?"