Disclaimer: I own no rights to Batman or Sherlock Holmes or related characters or trademarks. That aside…

Jeph arrived at the secret meeting place after Ozzie did. Ozzie was holding a thick cigar in one hand and a tall bottle of wine in the other. Jeph sat down beside him and took a cigar. He coughed between puffs.

Ozzie took out a folded piece of paper.

"What are you reading?" Jeph asked him.

"A letter from my mom," said Ozzie. "I really miss her."

After finishing the letter, Ozzie placed it in his blazer pocket and removed his sketch book from its place.

"What are you working on?" Jeph asked.

"How many times do I have to tell you that it's none of your business?"

Jeph grabbed the sketch book and pulled on it. Ozzie pulled back. Jeph tugged harder and the book flew into his lap.

Jeph gasped as he flipped through the sketches. Hayley Comely in angelic garb and halo. Hayley Komiski in wedding dress. Hayley Comely in slinky underwear . . .

Ozzie smacked Jeph. Hard. He smacked him again and Jeph's nose started to bleed.

"Get out of here!" screamed Ozzie, picking up his sketchbook and throwing it across the room. "Get out of here! And don't come back!"

Ozzie buried his head in his webbed fingers as Jeph cowered away.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Bruce Wayne arrived at the fair grounds and made his way again through the winter carnival. Try as he might to avoid the bearded lady, he saw her looking over the top of a small tent and staring hard at him. Bruce felt queasy all over again.

He arrived at the exhibition tent where Jorgenson would be doing his show and Holmes would meet him. After a few minutes, Bruce saw a familiar person in the crowd, and it wasn't Sherlock Holmes.

"Oswald?" said Bruce, approaching the young man.

"What do you want with me now?"

"It's just that I didn't expect to see you here," said Bruce. "You're not…"

"One of the carnies?" said Ozzie. "Is that what you were going to say? No. I'm not."

"I'm sorry," said Bruce. "I didn't mean to imply anything."

"It's all right," said Ozzie. "I actually feel more like I belong around here than anywhere else. Do you suppose the way people think of you can affect who you are?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I feel the most comfortable around freaks. When I was younger, I would have thought they were scary. I would have considered myself normal. But I'm not, and I can tell by the way people look at me. They think I'm some kind of monster. Some kind of freak. And the funny thing is, when people treat you like a freak long enough, you begin to believe you are one. After a while you accept it. I now consider it a cold, hard fact. I'm a freak."

"No, you're not."

"You're still in denial, Mr. Wayne. I'm definitely a freak."

"Look," said Bruce slowly, "I'm sorry about what happened the other day."

"You mean, with you and Hayley?"

Bruce just looked puzzled. Clearly, Hayley was no big deal to him, though she was a huge deal to Ozzie, who felt his cheeks redden.

"I meant with those bullies," said Bruce. "I should have done something."

"It wasn't your business."

"No. You shouldn't be treated like that. I'd like to help you."

"How?"

"I'll teach you how to defend yourself. Show you some fighting moves or something."

"Why do you care? We're nothing alike."

"I think we have more in common than you know," said Bruce. "I think we both know what it's like to be lonely."

"Mr. Cobblepot?"

The two boys looked up and saw Jorgenson looking out at them.

"Why if it isn't the Great Cobblepot!" cried Jorgenson. "Come, my young friend!"

"You know him?" asked Bruce.

"I met him when the carnival first arrived in town," said Ozzie. "We both have an interest in birds."

Bruce watched Ozzie climb on stage and take his place beside Wanda.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Cady was not wearing her stage costume. She was wearing an even more provocative outfit that was making it hard for the great Sherlock Holmes to concentrate.

"What do you need from me, Mr. Holmes?"

"The truth," Holmes said simply.

"But I've already told you everything I know."

"I'm just making certain you won't change your mind. I talked to your friend Mr. Riley."

"And?"

Holmes said nothing.

"And?"

"And," Holmes said slowly, "he confirms your alibi."

Cady breathed a sigh of relief.

"Just one more question," said Holmes. "What did you have for dinner? The last time you saw Mr. Riley?"

"I can't really remember," said Cady. "Nothing special."

"Thank you," said Holmes.

He left the tent, Cady following behind him, and waved at Bruce. Bruce walked towards him and Cady began to walk away.

"Who's she?"

"Jorgenson's assistant," said Holmes.

"But I thought…"

"He has two."

Bruce looked from Wanda to Cady and back to Wanda again.

"Do you have their telephone numbers?" asked Bruce.

"Of course," said Holmes. "For investigative purposes."

"I don't suppose you'd mind…"

"I would," said Holmes firmly. "I would mind terribly."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Bruce dropped the side of his hand gently on Ozzie's shoulder. Ozzie flinched and then turned towards Bruce. He kicked. Bruce grabbed his short leg and pushed it back. Ozzie punched and Bruce blocked it. Bruce punched and Ozzie blocked it.

Bruce and Ozzie slowly backed away from each other. Bruce kicked. Ozzie dodged. Bruce came closer and softly punched Ozzie's shoulder.

Ozzie punched back. Bruce was surprised by how strong his opponent was.

Bruce punched Ozzie. Ozzie punched back, harder. He swung again. This time, Bruce grabbed the arm as it swung towards him. Ozzie chopped with the other hand and hit Bruce's other arm. Bruce stepped back and rubbed his shoulder.

Neither said anything. They just began circling each other. Like birds.

Bruce lunged forward. Ozzie brought his hand down on Bruce's neck. It hurt. Bruce grabbed for Ozzie's middle. He tackled him to the ground. Ozzie rolled out from Bruce's grip and kicked Bruce in the ribs.

Bruce lay on the ground for a minute, panting to catch his breath. Ozzie helped him to his feet.

"Good," Bruce gasped. "That's enough for now."

He motioned towards the house.

"Come inside," he said, still between gasps. "We need to warm up."

Ozzie was reluctant at first, but Bruce insisted. Snow melted and dripped onto the carpet as the two entered the warm cottage, a fire already blazing inside.

"Can I get you something to eat? Drink?" Bruce asked. Ozzie said nothing. He just looked around him. Bruce went to the kitchen. Ozzie followed.

"Is this your place?" asked Ozzie.

"No."

"Your parents?"

"I'm an orphan."

"Oh."

"My parents were murdered when I was 10."

"Oh."

Bruce looked for a way to change the topic.

"This is my friend Mr. Holmes' place," he said.

"Mr. Holmes?" said Ozzie. "As in Mr. Sherlock Holmes? The famous detective."

"That's him."

"Wow!" said Ozzie, jaw dropped in amazement. "I can't believe you actually know Sherlock Holmes."

Bruce placed a buttered slice of honey wheat bread in front of Ozzie, along with a cup of hot tea.

"What about your parents?" he asked.

"They're amazing," said Ozzie. "They knew I would be born with birth defects. Everyone said my mother should have abandoned me."

"How do you know that?"

"Because they still say she should have. They look right at me and say it."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. My mother refused to let me go. People said that my parents should throw me in the sewers. They said they should get rid of me before I ruined my parent's image. See, the Cobblepot family is one of the most important in all of Chicago."

"What are you doing here?" asked Bruce. "So far from them."

"They didn't send me here because they wanted to get rid of me, if that's what you're thinking!"

"I didn't say…"

"They sent me here to keep me out of trouble."

"What sort of trouble?"

Silence fell. Bruce took a long, slow sip of his tea.

"I used to know a man named Melvin Kennard," said Ozzie. "He was like a mentor to me. Owned a pet shop. He'd let me come in and play with the animals. I'd help him take care of them. Especially the birds."

Ozzie paused and took a bite from his bread. Bruce watched him chew and waited for him to go on.

"People would look at me like I was some kind of animal," Ozzie continued. "But the animals would look at me like I was a person."

He paused again. Bruce thought he could hear crickets, forgetting it was winter. He was reminded when he looked out the window and saw snow falling.

"Then a local gang started a fire in the pet shop," said Ozzie. "Melvin was inside. He had to be put in the hospital. Nearly died. But I knew the gang. They picked on me all the time. Suddenly, I wasn't scared of them anymore. I found the gang, I punched the leader, and then I kept hitting him, pushing his head into the asphalt. He bled. He almost died before the cops found us."

Ozzie sighed.

"That's why I'm here. My mother kissed me good bye and gave me my first umbrella. She told me the weather was terrible in London and if I wanted to avoid getting sick I'd carry it with me everywhere, no matter what the weather looked like, no matter where I was going." He patted the umbrella at his side. "Now I always think of my mom when I carry an umbrella."

Bruce was stunned. He just sat and looked out the window when another figure appeared.

"That's my friend Jeph," said Ozzie. "I told him he could meet me here. I've got to go now. Thanks for everything, Bruce."

Bruce followed Ozzie outside and watched him walk away. As he looked at Jeph, something struck him as odd. He tried to figure out what it was, but he could see nothing. His instinct, his subconscious, was acting to quickly for his conscious mind to catch up with.

Bruce went back inside and stepped into Holmes' study.

Holmes was looking intently at a piece of paper he had added to the wall with a thumb tack. Even if he wasn't looking directly at it, it would have been obvious he was interested in it since it was suspended by tack rather than knife.

Bruce took a look at the paper. It appeared like so.

W C

January 14 (X)()

January 17 (X)(X)

January 22 ()(X)

January 27 (X)()

W Wanda Blackstone

C Cady Scarlett

X Whereabouts Accounted For

"Still trying to figure out how a man with no arms or legs can commit burglary four times?" asked Bruce.

"If he did, he needed an accomplice. Most likely one of his assistants. But, as you can see, they both have alibis."

"Perhaps Wanda and Cady took place in different burglaries. One would have an alibi while the other robbed the pet store."

"But they both have an alibi for the 17th. However, both of them were supposedly on separate dates with their paramours, and it's not uncommon for lovers to lie to protect each other."

"Or maybe the BirdMan wasn't involved at all."

"Your investigations at Hoshmeir have uncovered something, I take it?"

"His name's Oswald Cobblepot. He's great with animals, especially birds. He's even a protégé of Jorgenson's. Also, he has a painful memory from his earlier childhood that involves a pet store."

"Which would explain the psychological motive to target such establishments."

"But…"

"But what?"

"I just can't help feeling sorry for the kid. He's deformed and he's ridiculed for it. His classmates call him 'bird boy' and 'penguin.' "

"It's not unusual for you to sympathize with a criminal," said Holmes. "Criminals are people, too. No one is all good or all evil, Master Wayne. You must never lose your ability to empathize with your adversaries. Remember they're human. Only then will you be able to understand the criminal mind."

"But he wasn't missing a button from his right sleeve."

"I couldn't see very clearly out the window, but the other young man he was with seemed to be missing a button."

"No. I noticed he had all of his buttons."

"But the button on his right sleeve cuff was differently colored than all the others. It was a replacement button rather than an official Hoshmeir Academy one."

Bruce gasped, now realizing what his subconscious had detected.

"You mean… you think… those two…"

He was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. A few minutes later Holmes announced that it was William Wiggins and that he would have to leave right away.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Holmes stepped inside Wiggins' office alone, leaving Bruce in the corridor with Wiggins' sister. As Bruce looked into her eyes, he realized they really were more naughty than nice. She smiled and he smiled back.

"So, why do they call you Screamer?" he asked.

"You'll have to find out for yourself," she replied.

"It was nice meeting you on Christmas."

"I've missed you since."

"Why don't you tell me a little bit more about yourself?"

Screamer gave Bruce the same look the bearded lady had given him, only he enjoyed it this time. That's when the door opened and Holmes stepped out.

"Excuse us, Miss Wiggins," he said. "I'd like to talk to my associate alone."

"What is it?" Bruce asked, after Screamer had left.

"Kyle Kimmerick," said Holmes. "He's one of the most notorious criminals in all of London. Part of an extremely powerful crime syndicate. I've asked Wiggins to keep me updated on all information regarding Kimmerick's movements. Today, Kimmerick actually came into Wiggins' office to consult him."

"What about?"

"Kimmerick explained that some money had gone missing from his savings. He didn't say where his savings were normally kept, but it's likely he was referring to the syndicate's ill-gotten gains. He offered Wiggins a large sum of money to locate whoever had taken the savings. This was the only lead he offered."

Holmes handed Bruce a book. Bruce flipped through it, studying the sketches on each page.

"I recognize this girl," he said. "She's a student at Hoshmeir Academy. I think Oswald has some kind of crush on her."

"Really, Mr. Wayne. You think?"

"We've got to find him, fast! Before Kimmerick can!"

"I'll have to study this book more closely at my lab."

"There's no time for that! What can you tell me about it now?"

Holmes didn't lose his calm demeanor, even though Bruce was becoming more and more aggravated. In fact, Holmes took on an even more reassured mood, calming Bruce a little.

"The book is covered in dust, even though the latest inkings occurred more recently than the amount of time it should take for dust to gather. Therefore, the dust must not have gathered on the book, but rather the book was tossed in a pile of dust that had already collected. This book came from someplace that has fallen out of maintenance, in some rather lowly area. I'd say Whitechapel or Soho."

Holmes studied a few more pages.

"The materials these pages have been exposed to lead me to believe Soho."

Bruce ran for the door. Holmes grabbed him by the arm and pressed something into his hand.

"You'll need this."

"No!" said Bruce. As he looked down the length of the revolver, all he could see was the faces of his parents, frozen in fear.

"Kimmerick is a dangerous man," said Holmes. "You'll need to be armed."

"I don't like guns," said Bruce, starting to tremble. "They're evil things. Please, take it away."

"Perhaps you'd prefer this."

Holmes removed a riding crop from the inside of his cloak.

"It's a preferred weapon of mine," he said. "But I'd still like you to carry the revolver."

Bruce nodded, reluctantly pocketed the gun, and accepted the riding crop.

"Let's go."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ozzie was sitting with his head between his knees, a half-empty bottle of wine in his hand, when Jeph found him in their clubhouse.

"I'm sorry," Jeph said.

"Don't be. I can't even find that stupid sketch book anymore. I'm glad it's gone."

"Ozzie, what happened?"

"I talked to Hayley today. She told me she never liked me the way I liked her." Tears began to form in his eyes. "She told me she didn't want me around her anymore. She said she never had. Then she called me a freak. She called me a stupid penguin!"

Ozzie began to weep. His friend quickly crawled up beside him and embraced him.

Then the two boys heard footsteps and looked up. They saw the men in fedoras again. This time it was too late to run.

"Freeze, kids!" one of the men yelled.

Ozzie squeezed a trigger on an umbrella stick. There was a bright flash, and everyone in the room was blinded.

The sounds of gunshots could be heard even during the blinding light. When the light cleared, Ozzie pulled the trigger on an identical umbrella. This time, the top of the umbrella flew forward. Two men grabbed the edges as the top flew towards them and lost their balance, falling towards the ground together.

Ozzie grabbed the nearest man by the arm and twisted it. The man shrieked and dropped his gun. Ozzie spun and kicked another man coming near him, then turned and punched the man he had disarmed in the gut.

Ozzie turned to the other man to see an elbow crashing down on the fedora man's shoulder. Bruce Wayne was standing there. Bruce turned to another thug and punched him in the stomach as Ozzie did the same thing to another.

More men with guns were entering. Bruce pushed Ozzie to the ground and then somersaulted forward, standing up between two men. He rapidly punched the man in front of him and brought his arm back to elbow the man behind him. He then jumped and kicked the gun out of another's hand.

Then more men with guns entered.

"Freeze! Police!"

The men refused to freeze. They began firing on the police officers. Bruce took the riding crop and rapidly struck as many hands that were holding guns as he could. He then swung the crop through the air and struck a man who was coming up behind him in the face.

As he did this, another man came up alongside Bruce and kicked him in the thigh. Bruce gasped and grabbed his side. The man kicked again, lower this time. Bruce tensed up and the man grabbed the arm holding the crop. He wrestled the crop from Bruce and threw it across the room. With his free arm, Bruce pulled out the revolver Holmes had given him and hit his attacker as hard as he could in the head.

Bruce turned to look for Oswald but found Jeph instead. Jeph was lifting an umbrella and aiming it at one of the criminals. A spike hurtled from the umbrella and caught the man in the arm. Unfortunately, it wasn't the hand the man was holding a gun in. The wounded gangster pulled back the hammer.

Bruce pointed his revolver at the man's head as quickly as he could. He knew he could fire and stop the criminal right there. His throat tightened and he began to sweat.

"Don't!" he tried to scream.

The man fired and the boy cried out and fell to the ground.

Bruce pulled the trigger and watched the man die.

Everything began to blur. Bruce felt worse than sick. He felt like he was drowning in the sweat, choking on his own throat. He dropped to his knees and Holmes walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright now, Master Wayne," he said. "The police have everything under control."

Holmes walked to the body of the man Bruce had shot.

"Gentlemen, look!" he called.

Chief Inspector Gregson and Detective Inspector Hopkins shuffled their way to the spot where Holmes was standing.

"It's Kimmerick," Holmes said.

"You said there was something else," said Gregson. "Something to do with the pet store burglaries."

Ozzie was back in his hiding place in the midst of the crates, looking in horror at the body of his fallen friend and the slain bird carcasses all around him.

"Yes, Chief Inspector," Holmes was saying. "Note your feathers, all over the ground here. These were the birds responsible for the burglaries."

"You mean Kimmerick and his men…?" began Hopkins.

"Not at all," said Holmes. "Two young boys."

"Oh, my Lord," said Gregson. Holmes and Hopkins followed Gregson to where he bent over Jeph's body and felt for a pulse.

"He's so young," said Hopkins. "Almost looks like my son."

"Poor child," said Gregson.

"He and a friend trained the birds and stored the money they stole in here," Holmes explained. "They used the money to pay for prostitutes, wine, and cigars."

"Why those things?" asked Bruce.

"They're items that represent desirability, privilege, and high standing. Things the boys lacked." He began to move around the room.

"Unfortunately," he continued. "The boys had no idea they were storing their loot in the same place Kimmerick and his cronies were. The boys happened upon the syndicate's money…"

"Resulting in this bloodbath," said Hopkins.

"Where's the other boy you speak of?" asked Gregson.

Ozzie watched with growing trepidation as Holmes began to scrutinize every inch of the room. He began to tremble. He looked over his shoulder and was about to sprint out a hole in the wall behind him. Then he took another look ahead and froze.

Sherlock Holmes, deerstalker and all, was peering right at him.

Holmes smiled at Ozzie.

"I see no trace of him," he said. "He must have eluded us."

Holmes moved away from the crates and Ozzie ran as fast as he could. He kept seeing Sherlock Holmes' face as he ran. Was the smile sincere, or was it condescending? Was Sherlock Holmes trying to tell him that he had power over him now, that he would never be able to get away with another crime again?

Ozzie wouldn't give him that satisfaction. He was in charge of his own life.

Ozzie finally stopped and put his hands on his knees. He was panting, trembling, and crying. Jeph Horner, the only person who had ever loved and accepted Ozzie, was now dead. Ozzie had nothing left.

Jeph needed to be avenged. But who could Ozzie blame for the death? He remembered the gangsters. And he remembered the police.

Right there and then, Ozzie decided he would one day have power over those kinds of men. He would be able to invoke the type of fear in others, power over others, that Kyle Kimmerick had. He would be rich and successful, like Hayley Comely and her family.

Hayley didn't matter anymore. Only one person in the whole world mattered. Oswald C. Cobblepot. He would control men like those he had seen today. He would have wealth and position and everything he desired. After all, the BirdMan had triumphed in spite of his deformities. He had two extremely beautiful women attending to his every need. Ozzie would achieve that type of glory.

All he needed was a place to start. Ozzie looked at the possessions he had taken from Bruce on January 27th. He found a card for the North Branch Library in Gotham City.

Gotham. That would be the perfect place.

Ozzie clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. He would go back to school. He would graduate. And then nothing would stop him.

A/N – Thus ends our epic three-part "Adventure of the Bird Man." I guess I'm giving up on writing short chapters.

Please review. Let me know what you thought of this story. I'm very busy, and although I love writing these stories, they take time. And it won't be worth my time to write chapters no one wants to read.