Prompt from sirensbane: The Irregulars...where are they now?
"Mornin', Inspector."
Inspector Wiggins stopped, turning to look at the small boy who had just run up to him. "Sun's gone down, Bill."
Bill shrugged, torn shirt collar slipping down to reveal one skinny shoulder. "Still morning if you just got up." He jerked his thumb towards a nearby alleyway. "Boss wants a word."
Wiggins followed the boy into the alleyway. He knew the boss Billy was talking about, and had a feeling what the conversation was going to be about. With his new promotion to Inspector, their relationship might not be quite so easy to maintain as it used to be.
A little way down the alley, nearly hidden in the evening gloom, was a short red headed man who greeted Wiggins with a familiar smile. "Hey, Wiggins. Heard about the upgrade." He eyed Wiggins up and down, nodding slightly. Wiggins stared at him in return, trying to figure out what this was about, now that his initial suspicions had been disproven. "Looks good on you. Hope it won't change things, though."
"As long as your pickpocketing doesn't become something more serious, don't see why it should." Finally it clicked, and Wiggins' mouth turned down. "You have bad news. Is it Holmes?"
The man's eyes grew wide, and he chuckled slightly, before it faded away into a sad smile. "Nearly as good as he was. Yeah, it's Holmes. Day before yesterday."
Wiggins closed his eyes in grief. He'd seen it coming, all the old Irregulars had. After Dr Watson had died in the Great War, then Mycroft Holmes just a few months later, they'd all known it was only a matter of time until Holmes followed them. "Did he leave anything behind?" Wiggins asked, although he already suspected the answer.
"Nothing much," the other man confirmed. "Left some papers to Watson's daughter, and his bees to a friend. There was some money, but not a lot. You might be getting a telegram next week. He knew you were good."
Wiggins smiled at him. "Thanks, Charlie. You'll let the others know?"
Charlie nodded, slipping back into the shadows of the alley. Wiggins left the alley and continued his route home, thinking on the news. He might end up getting a telegram, but even if he did, nothing could mean as much as the words Mr Holmes had given him when he'd left Baker Street for the country, where Dr Watson had already departed. 'This city is yours now, young Wiggins,' Mr Holmes had said, looking solemnly at him. 'Take care of her.' He had only been able to nod, overcome with the responsibility being entrusted to him. Those words meant more to him than any amount of money ever could.