Prompt from Garonne – exhaustion

A Day in the Life of Billy the Page

Some days my life is easy. I wake up, scrub behind my ears, comb my hair, put on my jacket and cap and go upstairs to the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson feeds me a good breakfast and then we attend to the little things her tenants require. On Tuesdays she usually sends me down to the grocers with a list. Those are good days. Mrs. Bridges always has a nice word for me and sometimes she gives me a sweet. I was friends with her son, Tommy, before he died of a fever and she misses him something terrible.

Some days my life isn't quite as easy. Usually those are in spring and summer. Mrs. Hudson has me move things around in the attic or the cellar. She says it's important to inspect what you've got stored so that things don't get lost or broken. Some of the things she has I think should be lost or broken or both. I mean, what does she need with an African mask or a Viking helmet? And she never uses her bicycle. I don't even know how she got it into the cellar in the first place.

There are days my life is positively exciting. Those always involve Mr. Holmes, one way or another.

"Here's the morning post, Mrs. Hudson," I say returning to the kitchen from the front door with a handful of envelopes. "Another letter for you from that Professor Challenger, ma'am."

"Oh?" she says with a pleased smile. "I wonder what George is up to now."

Mrs. Hudson takes the stack of letters from me and quickly sorts through them. She sets aside her own correspondence and a pair of envelopes for Wynonna, the parlor maid, then hands the rest back to me.

"For Mr. Holmes and the doctor," she tells me. "Tell them I'll have cold mutton for their lunch. Mr. Holmes will frown at that, but Dr. Watson likes it very much and I can't please both of them all of the time. Go on, Billy."

"Yes, ma'am," I say and take the mail up to the gentlemen's flat.

"It's open," calls Mr. Holmes when I knock.

"Morning post, Mr. Holmes," I tell him. I cross the room to his desk. "Good morning Dr. Watson. Mrs. Hudson said she'll have cold mutton for your luncheon, sirs."

"Again?" Mr. Holmes grumbles and leans forward to look into his microscope. "Did we not just eat cold mutton?"

"No, Holmes," the doctor says and gives me a smile and a wink as he hands me a farthing. "Last week, Monday, as I recall. That's ten days."

"All too soon for my taste," Mr. Holmes says, adjusting a dial on the side of his instrument.

"Is there anything you need, sirs?" I ask, curious to know what Mr. Holmes is up to, but I know better than to ask.

"Yes, Billy," he says without looking up. From the table next to his microscope he lifts a folded piece of foolscap and holds it out in my direction. "Take this down to the chemist for me, will you? He'll collect everything. Just be a good lad and bring it all to me as quick as you can."

"Certainly, Mr. Holmes," I tell him and take the list. I'm glad to do it. Getting out of the house, even in winter is better than being cooped up all day. "Anything for you, Doctor?"

"Not right now," he says, looking through his letters. "I'll have a letter for the post this afternoon. Thank you, Billy."

"Very good, sir," I say and off I go down the stairs. I stop long enough to tell Mrs. Hudson where I'm going and she reminds me to wear my muffler and coat. She doesn't want me catching a cold or a cough.

The weather is colder today than it was yesterday, but at least the sun is poking through the clouds. Snow's ankle deep and I'm glad for the new shoes Mrs. Hudson bought me in October. I'd outgrown the old ones anyway. Baker Street in winter is a sight to see. In any other season it's quite nice, but winter means snow and ice sickles and there's no fog hanging in the air. Out of curiosity I give a glance at the list Mr. Holmes gave me. None of it makes any sense. His writing is easy enough to read, but the words might as well be in Greek. I shrug and tuck it back into my pocket just in time for a snowball to smack me in the back. I don't even think about it. I drop down, scoop snow and pack it even as I'm turning. Another ball flies by my head as I come around and throw. Wiggins, laughs as he dodges aside. What he's doing on Baker Street this time of day, I don't know, but I'm not letting him get away with blind siding me. I throw two more snowballs, finally catching him in the chest and we both laugh as we come together.

"Morning, Billy," says Wiggins, still grinning.

"Morning," I say.

"What are you up to?" he asks as he falls into step next to me.

"An errand for Mr. Holmes," I tell him and show him the note.

"Up to something, is he?" Wiggins asks. "If he needs me, I'm available."

"I'll tell him," I say and then notice something. "Why aren't you wearing the shoes I gave you?"

"They didn't fit," he says easily. "I gave them to Little Lou. He needed a new pair more 'n I do. These'll be good for a while yet."

I glance down and see the side busted out of one and the other's sole is held on with a rag.

"Why don't you ask Reverend Michaels?" I ask. "He'll get you a pair."

"Run me off the last time I went there," Wiggins says.

I glance at him, but don't ask why. Wiggins probably had his hand in the poor box again. I'll never understand why that's a problem. Wiggins is poor, after all. Isn't that why the box is there?

"I'll see what I can do," I tell him. "Christmas is coming. Maybe I can work out something with the doctor."

"Alright," Wiggins says with a smile. "Thanks, Billy. Got to run now. Old Pinky's up ahead and he don't like me."

Pinky is Constable Pinkerly. He's not a bad sort, for a copper, but Wiggins got on his bad side somehow.

"See you later," I say as he turns into an alley. "Will you be in your usual spot?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'm going by Big Molly's for some soup and then I'll be over there after that."

"Right," I say and keep walking.

Pinky eyes me hard as I pass, but I smile and tip my hat. He frowns, but gives me a nod. I'm not on his list. I don't know for sure how he makes his list. All I know is he tells certain boys they're on it. Never told me I was so I guess I'm not on it. I wonder if he really has a list or if he just says he does. Doesn't matter, I suppose. I'm going to stay off it if I can.

Mr. Thornton, the chemist, greets me with his usual grin. He knows why I'm there. Mr. Holmes has an account he pays off at the end of every month. He always pays in cash and he almost always pays a lot. One month the total was twenty pounds! I can't imagine having twenty pounds all at once. Maybe one day. I've been saving a little of my money. Most of it goes to help my dad take care of the family, but I have six pounds and three pence, plus the farthing Dr. Watson gave me, I suppose. I want to set aside enough to buy a cab and make my way as a hackee. Dr. Watson suggested I join the army. He says I would make a very good orderly and that he still has friends who could arrange it. I don't know. Maybe I will, but I think I'd like to drive a cab.

"How's Mrs. Hudson these days?" asks Mr. Thornton as he begins setting the items on Mr. Holmes' list on his counter.

"She's well, sir," I tell him and look at a display of blue bottles with a picture of a smiling baby on their labels. Powdered milk. How could you make milk into a powder?

"I'll have to go to the back for this one," says Mr. Thornton with a frown. "Back in a minute, Billy. I'll bring you a box to carry it all, too."

"Thanks, Mr. Thornton," I say. Powdered milk? Couldn't drink it. Probably tastes terrible that way, too.

Mr. Thornton closes up the box and gives me a pat on the head and I'm off back to 221B. Sun isn't shining now. Clouds are getting thicker and it looks like we might get more snow, but the wind has died down to nothing and it doesn't feel any colder. I march on and begin whistling. It's a good day to be out, even if it does start snowing again.

Mr. Holmes hands me two farthings when I deliver the box. Before I get to the door he stops me.

"Billy, could you run this to the telegraph office for me?" he asks.

"Should I wait for a reply, sir?"

"No," he says. "It may take some time for Professor Windgate to find what I need. Take this and you may keep whatever is left."

"Thank you, sir!" I say, accepting the coins. Today is really looking up.

The trip to the telegraph office doesn't take long, but I have to wait in line while an older gentleman with mutton chops sends a rather long message. I keep quiet. There's no sense in trying to rush things along. If I weren't here, I'd be shoveling coal or sweeping out a carpet or something. Mrs. Hudson doesn't let me stand idle, not when there is room and board to be earned. It's nearly an hour before I get back to Backer Street and when I do Dr. Watson has an errand he needs me to run.

Back to the chemists. Mr. Thornton frowns over Dr. Watson's list and asks me to wait while he puts it all together. This time he wraps the bottles and tins in brown paper and sends me off with another pat on the head. I've just come through the door when Mr. Holmes calls down to me.

"Billy," he calls without looking from his door.

"I sent him on an errand, Holmes," the doctor says from deeper in their rooms.

"Confound it!" Mr. Holmes grumbles. "I need him. When will…"

"I'm here, Mr. Holmes," I call up to him. Mrs. Hudson looks out of her door and frowns at the noise we're making. She doesn't like disturbances in her home. "Sorry, Mrs. Hudson."

She rolls her eyes and shuts her door. I trot up the stairs, all seventeen of them, and step into the gentlemen's flat.

"Here's your package, Watson," Mr. Holmes says, taking the bundle from me and passing it to his friend. "Billy, I need you to find Wiggins. I need him immediately."

"Yes, sir," I say and take another farthing for my trouble. "Thank you, sir"

"Good lad," he says with a smile. "Be quick about it."

Down the stairs I go again and back out into the snow. More is starting to fall. Big flakes this time, not like last night. I pull my muffler tighter to keep the snow off my neck and trudge along quickly. My stomach growls, but I'll have to wait until I get back before I can eat, unless Big Molly has something for me. She sometimes does. Six children and her husband makes a good living at Packer's Warehouse. She seems to look out for everyone, but she doesn't always have time for us that are better off. Can't blame her, though. Money only goes so far.

"I don't know where he went when he left here," Big Molly tells me. "You know Wiggins. He's always up to something."

"Yes ma'am," I say and tip my hat. "I'll find him. Thanks anyway."

Down her steps I go and off toward Marylebone Road. Wiggins will be working the passersby for change. He is always up to something and that's the best place for him in the mornings.

"Wiggins!" I call from across the road and wave. He looks up and comes dodging through traffic. Drivers yell and shout at him, but he waves them off, throwing a quick V at one old prat that scolds him.

"Does Mr. Holmes need me?" he asks eagerly.

"Right away," I tell him and we run off back to Baker Street.

I have to pull Wiggins to a stop before he barges through the front door. Mrs. Hudson has a soft place for my friend because all the things he and the Irregulars have done for her tenants, but she doesn't like them just coming and going as they please. Black Will once knocked over a vase she rather liked and she's never forgiven him for it. I don't know who Ming was, but it belonged to him. I guess Mrs. Hudson was just holding onto it and maybe she will be in trouble when he ask after it.

"Well done, Billy," Mr. Holmes tells me and invites Wiggins in. Before the door closes the doctor calls me in too.

"Mr. Thornton didn't have everything I need," he tells me. "Will you take this list over to Dobson's and collect the rest of it? If he doesn't have everything, go to Bernhard's for the remainder. His prices are very high, but I really do need these items. I shouldn't have let my stocks get so low."

"Of course, Doctor," I say and accept the new list.

Mr. Dobson eyes me suspiciously the whole time I'm waiting. I don't take it personal. He eyes every boy that way. As it turns out I have to make the long trip to Bernhard's shop. Mr. Dobson only had three items Dr. Watson wanted. It's past noon by the time I leave Bernhard's and my stomach is rumbling.

"Hope Mrs' Hudson has something good for me," I say aloud as I trudge through the deepening snow. My toes are going numb and my nose is very cold. I grin, remembering what my mum always says. "Jack Frost nipping at your nose."

I kick the snow off my shoes again when I get to the top step outside the house and know I'll need to sweep the steps again. First I go up to deliver the doctor's package.

"Billy," says Mr. Holmes as I turn for the door, pocketing another two pence from the doctor. "This is very important. I need you to hand deliver this box to Inspector Broadstreet. He's expecting it. Put it in his hands. No one else is to touch it. Understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Holmes," I say, less enthusiastic than before. "Do I have time to sweep the steps?"

"No," he says firmly. "This is more important than accumulating snow. He may have a message for me. Wait for it if he does."

"Very well, Mr. Holmes," I say and turn to go. As the door is closing I here Dr. Watson say something.

"That boy's looking a little fagged, Holmes."

"He's young. He has the strength of a myrmidon," says Mr. Holmes and closes the door.

Fagged? I'll say! I'm bloody tired and hungry. But I have coins in my pockets and that's not a bad thing.

"Are you going out again, Billy?" Wynonna asks, seeing me pass by the big sitting room.

"Another errand for Mr. Holmes," I tell her.

"Could you stop by the news stand and see if the 'Strand' has its new edition out?" she asks and gives me that smile of hers. She really is so much prettier than Delilah was.

"I will," I assure her.

"You're a dear," she says and pinches my cheek.

All the way to Inspector Broadstreet's office I find myself smiling, thinking about Wynonna's smile. It makes the trip a little faster for me, but standing there in the hallway, waiting for the inspector to examine the contents of Mr. Holmes little box is trying. At least my toes have a chance to warm up.

"Is this all he sent me?" the inspector demands, stepping out of his door.

"It's all he gave me, sir," I tell him.

"I don't know what good this is supposed to do me," he grumbles. "Tell Mr. Holmes I'll come by this afternoon around three. I really don't know what he thought this would be good for. I really don't."

He slams his door in my face and I stick out my tongue before walking past a tall sergeant who is grinning down at me.

"Careful o' that, sonny," the sergeant says and knocks on the inspector's door.

I pay for the latest edition of the 'Strand' and continue home. My feet are cold by the time I get there and my stomach is loudly reminding me that I haven't had anything since breakfast. Cold mutton sandwiches and a hot cup of chocolate are sounding good.

"Thank you, Billy," Wynonna says when I give her the magazine. "I'll pay you later."

"Oh, that's alright," I say.

"Don't be silly," she says. "Can't go spending your money on me."

I climb the stairs again and the door opens with Dr. Watson frowning at something in his hand.

"Oh. Billy," he says. "I was just going to call down for you. Dobson sent the wrong thing. I can't use this powder. Could you take it back and get the right one?"

"As soon as I tell Mr. Holmes what the inspector told me, sir," I say and step past the doctor. Mr. Holmes is in his chair by the fire, smoking. I tell him the inspector will be visiting at three.

"Imbecile," Mr. Holmes grumbles. "I suppose I should have expected it. Thank you, Billy."

"You're welcome, sir," I puff and then accept the powder from the doctor.

"If Dobson doesn't have the right one," he says.

"Go to Bernhard's?" I ask.

"That's right," says Dr. Watson with a grin. "Good lad."

"Do I have time to sweep the steps first, Doctor?" I ask. "The snow is starting to get deep."

"Yes. I think so. It's not an emergency," he says and shuts the door.

Before I've finished with steps, Mrs. Hudson finds me and asks that I run to the market for a tin of salt. She's out and wants it for some stew or other. I tell her I need to run to Dobson's and she says not to buy the salt from him. He charges too much.

It's nearly three by the time I return to the house and my stomach has stopped growling. Wiggins comes dashing up just as I get to the top step and we go in together.

"What's the matter with you?" he asks.

"I've been in and out all day," I explain. "Wipe your feet."

"Sorry, Billy," he apologizes and wipes the snow from his shoes. "You look tired."

"I am," I grumble. "Come on. Mr. Holmes will want to get rid of you as soon as he can. Inspector Broadstreet is coming soon."

I deliver the powder to Dr. Watson and Wiggins reports to Mr. Holmes as I'm leaving. I just get to the bottom of the stairs when Wiggins storms down them and tells me Mr. Holmes needs me. He goes out the front door and I turn to climb the steps again.

"Billy, there is a book Professor Windgate has agreed to lend me," he says. "Run over to the university and fetch it for me, will you?"

"Which university, Mr. Holmes?" I ask. There are several.

"Regents," he says. "It isn't that far."

"Right away, sir?" I ask.

"Right away, Billy," he says a little impatiently. "I must have it right away. A man's life depends on it."

That is a whole different matter. I turn and go down the steps as quick as I can. My burst of energy doesn't last long. By the time I reach the university I'm cold to the bone and can't get any more heat out of my coat. I ask at the reception desk for Professor Windgate and wait until a page brings the book wrapped in brown paper. He actually makes me sign for it.

Back at Baker Street I climb the stairs again and knock on the door, hardly able to lift my arm to do it. Mr. Holmes opens the door and I give him the book.

"Thank you, Billy," he says and is about to turn away, but pauses to look closely at me. I'm not sure what happens next, but I hear him call for the doctor and then I'm on the floor. Everything goes grey and then black.

"He's coming round now, Mrs. Hudson," Dr. Watson says from above me.

"Well I don't know what you gentlemen were thinking," she says in a scolding voice. "If this boy catches cold, I'm blaming you both."

"I don't think he'll catch cold," the doctor tells her. "There now, Billy. Feeling better?"

"Yes, Doctor," I say and try to sit up. They've put me on their sofa near the fire and it feels good to be getting warm. Mr. Holmes is pacing in front of the window and casting… worried (?) looks my way.

"He doesn't look much better," Mrs. Hudson says a little angrily. "Sending him on all those errands in this weather! What were you gentlemen thinking?"

"He's just exhausted, Mrs. Hudson," the doctor assures her absently as he looks into my eyes one at a time. "I think some rest and some food are in order. He should be right as rain in the morning."

"I've a mind to serve him your supper," she grouses as she helps me to my feet. My head swims. "And it will be cabbage stew tomorrow!"

Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson exchange a look, but neither says anything."

Mrs. Hudson puts me in her spare bed and serves me hot soup, a baked potato and a pork chop. The food doesn't last long. I've never tasted anything so good. She fusses over me a little when I've eaten and stokes up the fire a bit.

"May I read to him, Mrs. Hudson?" Wynonna asks from the doorway.

"I suppose so," Mrs. Hudson allows. "Don't tax him too much, though. He has a big day ahead of him tomorrow."

I fall asleep halfway through the story Wynonna is reading, but I hear her voice and I feel the warmth and I sleep like a log.