Holmes gave little thought to the boy again until, through unlikely circumstances, he encountered him during the course of a case. Not as a victim or even a suspect, thankfully, but rather as an obstacle to the questioning of a witness.
A fairly well-known, and generally well-to-do, man of a shipping business had reported the thieving of his wife's best bits of jewelry, a set of emerald earrings in gold and a matching brooch. Suspicion had naturally fallen upon the wife's maid, whom had been with the household only a matter of weeks. Questioning by the constables had not revealed where the jewels had been hidden (for such a short time had passed before a hue and cry had been raised that the thief could not have taken them far), and the maid continued to claim innocence in the matter. Holmes quite agreed, and indeed was quite convinced that the perpetrator of the crime was another member of the household entirely.
It was a dozen small, incontrovertible clues that had led him to this conclusion, but through long experience Holmes knew Scotland Yard would require something more sensational in the way of evidence before they would let the girl go. The man of the house had mentioned chasing off a small gang of boys loitering near the front of the house not an hour before the theft took place. Holmes was of a mind to track down those boys, in the hopes that one might have witnessed the thief about his work, and perhaps even be able to lead Holmes to his chosen hidey-hole. If Holmes could produce the jewelry, it was far more likely that the men of the law would see their way through to justice and let the poor maid go free.
It didn't take the detective long to determine how to go about locating the ruffians. Holmes waylaid the first urchin he came across and pressed a copper penny into the dirty palm. "I would be most interested in speaking to anyone who might have been around the end of the lane with the two lanterns near to this time yesterday," he said.
The boy stared at him with great suspicion, but at last scampered off, the penny clutched tight in his fist. Holmes was not particularly worried by this. While it was possible the boy had simply taken the money and run, Holmes knew he had a good reputation among those living on the fringes of London society. He projected a nearly certain probability that the boy would return, if only to inform the detective that there had been no such witness.
An hour passed, and Holmes had just begun to reassess that possibility when there was a wet cough behind him. The detective spun about to see another urchin, one suffering from some respiratory ailment and a not-insignificant bout of scurvy, judging by his dry, though filthy hair and the slight swelling of his joints.
"Yer ta come wit' me," he muttered, coughing again into his elbow. "I'm ter take yeh ta the dipper was workin' tha' drag."
Holmes nodded in reply, and followed the boy down several winding streets and alleys. They at last came to a small nook littered with refuse, containing two more boys in ragged urchins' clothing. One stood in plain view in what light made its way through the dismal skies and between looming buildings, while the other lingered in deep shadow. Despite the lingering glance Holmes sent in his direction, the detective could tell nothing distinct about his appearance. A grey, shapeless cap hid any hair color, and the shadows dimmed his face to anonymity. The boy's- assuming it was, indeed, male- stance was tense, almost predatory.
A guard, then. Well, Holmes had hardly expected trust, merely information exchanged for coin. He dismissed the guard from his immediate thoughts and turned his attention to the urchin who was obviously his witness. His guide had already vanished back down the alleyways, leaving only the echoes of footsteps and the occasional cough.
The business was transacted precisely as Holmes had expected and to his satisfaction. Now armed with the knowledge that the son had indeed visited a lane near the home and loitered near a section of loose bricking, he reached into his pocket for his money purse and stepped forward.
There was the dull glint of metal from the corner of his eye, and Holmes stilled. The guard had taken his movement as a potentially hostile act, and drawn a blade, now held in such a way as to be easily thrown. Surprisingly, the glint of reflected light had come not from the leaf-shaped blade of the knife, but rather from the hoop placed oddly at the end of the narrow hilt. Overall, the instrument was one he was entirely unfamiliar with, and Holmes resolved to note down every detail of it he could recall upon the instant of his return to Baker Street. If there were to ever be a crime committed with such a blade, he would now be prepared to recognize it.
Slowly, Holmes wrapped his fingers about his purse and withdrew it from his waistcoat. Seeing it, the guard relaxed in turn, and the blade vanished with the barest flick of his fingers. The detective found himself impressed. Knife skills weren't uncommon in the least on the streets of London, but given the likely age of the small figure still hidden by the shadows, Holmes shouldn't like to be on the wrong side of him in an alley dispute without a revolver on his part.
The witness accepted his penny with glee, dashing away as soon as it was in his hands. Half-expecting that the guard would be gone when he turned 'round, Holmes was surprised to see he had lingered.
"Why?" he asked the detective, his voice high and light. The possibility of a young girl was reopened, but Holmes yet leaned towards his original belief of male. There was an accent, heavy, but indefinable given so brief a sample.
As for the question itself, there were several potential interpretations to be considered. "Why" had Holmes paid a street urchin, where other men would renege and think nothing of it? "Why" was the information he sought important? "Why" did Holmes desire the information to begin with?
The detective chose to answer the last, believing it the most likely sought. "There is a young girl, a maid in a household, who has been wrongly accused of a crime and will now go free. I will be able to prove the true culprit to all satisfaction."
The guard studied him closely, head tilted to the side like a curious feline. At last he nodded, and stepped forward out of the shadows. Holmes was astonished to recognize blue, Asiatic eyes, not seen for some months; the distinctly bright hair was covered by the floppy cap. At this near distance, the markings on his face that the detective had wondered over revealed themselves to be three thin lines, drawn over each cheek in a gently curving horizontal.
The odd boy was past him before Holmes could rouse himself. "Wait!" the man called out, dashing down the alleyway after him. He was out of sight already- just how quickly could he move? Certainly faster than Holmes could manage, for 'round the nearest corner was another narrow alley populated only by refuse and rats.
"Again!" Holmes huffed. On a whim he looked upwards, but of course there were only the steep brick walls, with nothing to climb and no time for the boy to have done so.
Perhaps he'd best not mention this second episode to Watson. The good doctor would never let him hear the end of it.
Dipper: a pickpocket.
Drag: in this context, a street.
A/N: My apologies for its lateness, Mr. Evil. There was much interference. Firstly I assisted my mother in moving house by way of oversized U-haul truck from Washington, D.C. to Spokane, Washington State, then left her to continue the rest of her journey to Anchorage, Alaska so I could repair home to take up, at long last, occupation for myself. Adjusting to said occupation has been a full, often painful experience.
Fortunately, though previously unfortunately, my muses are the perverse such that only appear when I am so occupied as to make writing difficult. I can only hope that, now being gainfully employed, my writing will pick up as well.
In pleasant news, whereas this chapter wallowed for lack of a plan, I already have an idea of how the next meeting will proceed.