Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. They belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I only own Lauren Moran alias Billy Smith and Wilson, the Baker Street Irregular.

"Let see, me placing note where they would find wallet, check. The note I have written containing location of the wallet, check. Finally, the ropes and hook I need to climb to 221B Baker Street and to their rooms, CHECK!" Lauren screamed with delight as she glanced over her list. She was going to have a little fun with the duo of Baker Street. It was going be fun for her and trouble for the detective and doctor.

She left the hideout and put the wallet in a secret hiding place. Then, she set off for Baker Street.

"Is that boy never going to come? He said that he would come at 9 o'clock… What is this?" Holmes picked up a note. It said:

Hi! I decided I want to have a little fun with you two after all. If you really want to have your wallet back, you must guess this riddle:

I am a pastry maker who lives on this street

I often live in a block called two-two one

The room I live in is on the 2nd floor

To be more specific, the room in which I sit.

Happy guessing!

"That boy is one of the most annoying children I have ever seen. The riddle has our address on it. Your wallet is in our sitting room!" Holmes deciphered the message and hailed a cab. Meanwhile, Lauren was cackling wildly as she took all of the case files and the doctor's journals they and left the room by the window. She placed the wallet on what she guessed to be Watson's table before leaving.

Holmes and Watson rushed up the stairs and saw that the door was ajar. They went into the room and saw at once that it had been tidied and ransacked at the same time. Watson's wallet lay forlornly on the table. Its owner grabbed it and checked his table at the same time. "All my journals are gone!" he exclaimed.

"So are my case files. That street Arab is a burglar. The only case file we have left is the one we are currently working on." Holmes said and a long string of curses followed. Watson rebuked his friend for his words and retreated to his study, moaning the lost of his journals.

The next day, their case files and Watson's journals arrived with the post, along with a note torn from a receipt. It read:

Here are your case files and journals. I have finished copying them already. By the way, Doctor, is your Jezali bullet in your arm or your leg?

"That boy read my journals! And our case files! Of course I have the bullet in my leg! That's it! I am getting the police!" Watson cried. He was about to reached the telegraph pad when he saw a pair of field glasses glinting in the sunlight. "That boy is watching us Holmes!" Watson exclaimed. There was a flash and they could see the boy rushing out of the bushes.

"Catch that boy! By Jove, that boy deserves a good smack in the back." Holmes replied and they ran out of the house. They chased the boy and finally cornered him. They were mad by this time. "Why did you take our case files and my journals to copy?" Watson asked the boy. The boy in question was laughing merrily and a pair of field glasses hung around his neck. Finally the boy came up with an answer. "I stole your wallet because at that time, I did not know who you were. I burgled your house and stole your things because I needed the information on your cases. I spied on you because I wanted to see the reaction I caused. I asked you about the bullet because I had spotted a mistake in your story 'A Study in Scarlet'!" He held up a copy of Beeton's Christmas Annual and laughed again. Watson was embarrassed by his mistake and his face turned bright red. "By the way, here's your money. I have no need for it anyway!" he handed Watson some money before vanishing. Watson examined the notes. "Holmes, there is another of those notes. It says that the boy is surprised that you would fall for his trick so easily, especially when that boy is actually a girl!" Watson told his friend.

And from that day on, Holmes never criticize a girl ever again.

Alice: Go Lauren! I knew you would do it well, criticizing my great great grand father and Mr. Holmes. You also pointed out the mistake and made my great great grand father embarrassed for it.

Me: Alice, are you supporting Lauren or your ancestor?

Alice: Lauren of course!

Me: Haven't you heard of the phrase blood is thicker than water?

Alice: I think that paint is better that blood or water! (pulls a string and pink paint splashes on the poor authoress)

Me: *&#$ ALICE JANESSA SARGON!