"You're sure he said here?"

"'Clerkenwell Jeweler three hours after dawn,'" Wiggins repeated. He jerked his thumb first at the sun then at the Clerkenwell Jeweler painted on the sign swinging in a faint breeze. "You really gonna give up now? Toffs always run late."

Tom scoffed. "No, I'm not givin' up. Just makin' sure we're at the right spot. Still can't believe you got us all a job, almost two weeks of food, and a house, all in the same shot."

"A job, yes, but Mr. Holmes wasn't sure about the house." Wiggins scanned the crowds again, carefully avoiding the windows. He would have preferred to avoid the entire street, especially this shop, but shelter mattered more than his worry. "Said he'd talk to the jeweler for us."

"How kin 'e do that iffen he's not here?" Jacob wandered closer, eyeing the shop across the street. "That's a bakery," he announced. "In back. A small un."

"Check it now and miss the house," Wiggins told him, "or check it after Mr. Holmes leaves. I know you won't put a chance of a meal over a roof."

Jacob had been just as eager as Wiggins to find a place they could call their own. The younger boy scowled at him but agreed. He would wait a few minutes.

"Is that him?"

Billy pointed to a tall man pushing through the crowd, and John pulled himself to his feet when Wiggins nodded. Mr. Holmes reached them a moment later.

"You are prompt," he noted as if he had arrived on time. "Good. I know Wiggins and Charlie, but who are the rest of you?"

Each boy quickly gave his name, and Mr. Holmes nodded a hello.

"Are you all interested in the work I described to Wiggins?"

"Acourse," Jacob answered. "Were ye square about a house?"

Mr. Holmes took a moment to answer, apparently wrapping his head around Jacob's accent.

"I was," he finally replied. His long arm opened the door wide enough for them to enter first. "I cannot promise, though. That is up to Mr. Hobbs."

Wiggins boldly led the others into the shop, trying to hide his nerves. For all that Mr. Holmes had no way of knowing, this outcome rested solely on Mr. Hobbs' reaction to Wiggins. His mum had left a purchase—and an uncomfortably large bill—behind at her death, and Wiggins had avoided this area for years for fear of Mr. Hobbs demanding the money they never had.

"Well bless my buttons!" Wiggins spun to find the familiarly round shopkeeper in the other doorway, having heard the bell from the back room. "If it isn't Danny Wiggins half grown! Haven't seen you in donkey's years, boy. Where have you been?"

"Here and there," Wiggins answered honestly. "Your shop is the same as ever, Mr. Hobbs."

The older man chuckled, giving his spectacles a quick polish with his handkerchief before they resumed their place on his nose. Shock crossed his face, followed quickly by grief, as he looked again. His jolly demeanor immediately vanished. "Your mother would have something to say, lookin' at you."

Wiggins wished she were there to say it, but he managed a weak smile. "Probably."

"You knew our Mum?"

Surprise returned to mix with the grief when his sister moved to stand next to him. "You must be Charlie. Yes, I knew your Mum. Goodness knows she came in often enough. She bought you that necklace the week you were born so you'd have somethin' pretty to call your own."

She fingered the small pendant that had been among the few things he had saved from their old home. Wiggins had known only that their mum had bought it for her.

"Why did she choose this one?"

"The color. Purple was her favorite, and she hoped to convince you to make it your favorite. The heart was so that you would never forget that she loved you." He glanced between them. "What happened?"

"Ship went down," Wiggins said shortly. "Father volunteered to take some medicines to help an outbreak in Amsterdam, and Mum went with him. A storm caught them in the channel."

"Why are you on the streets?"

Wiggins shrugged. "Better than the factories."

"I thought you might help with that," Mr. Holmes interjected. Mr. Hobbs tore his gaze from Wiggins to finally note the others standing silently near the door.

"Hello, Mr. Holmes. What can I do for you? I did not know you had children." He took a second look. "My apologies. You are with the Wiggins duo, are you not? What brings you here today?"

He aimed the question at the group in general, but Mr. Holmes answered.

"They have agreed to work for me," he started, "but I can hardly be expected to count alleys to find them. I thought you might be willing to negotiate a use for your empty courtyard."

Mr. Hobbs' grief faded behind thoughtfulness. "I believe we could work something out," he said slowly. "What did you have in mind?"

"Can we see it before we bargain for it, please?" Tom quickly asked. "Sir," he added, almost as an afterthought, but Mr. Hobbs took no offense. He chuckled and waved them behind the counter.

"This way."

They filed through the workroom to the far back of the shop, where Mr. Hobbs gestured to the window on the other side of an overcrowded storage area. Tom led the line through the boxes to peer into what could become their new home.

A covered courtyard stared back at them. Shops on three sides and a high wall on the fourth concealed it completely, and Wiggins saw no sign of other windows from neighboring shops. Multiple alcoves lined the walls, some larger than others, but the bright sunlight caught Wiggins' attention.

"How does the light get in?"

"Windows," Mr. Hobbs answered. "Instead of in the walls, I put them in the roof. That jagged ceiling has at least one window facing every direction, so the courtyard gets natural light year-round."

Billy pushed his way to the front. His nose barely cleared the windowsill. "Why are there holes in the walls?"

"More storage," was the answer. "The bricks crumbled on their own, but instead of replacing them, I simply shored the remaining wall. I had intended to expand my shop into it, but I haven't had the need. I doubt I ever will."

"What are the piles?" Tom pointed to the small bits of wood along one wall and in several of the alcoves. Mr. Hobbs had to think for a moment.

"Probably chairs," he finally replied, "or at least they used to be. It's scrap wood now."

"Where is the entrance?"

"A back alley," he told Charlie. "It's closest to the other street, but you can reach it from many directions. The alleys through here form a decent maze."

Wiggins looked out the window again. The courtyard looked perfect, and the others' expressions announced they thought the same. Wiggins simply needed to find some way they could pay for it.

"We could help around the shop," he suggested.

The adults exchanged a look Wiggins struggled to understand, then Mr. Hobbs joined them by the window.

"I don't need any help around the shop."

Wiggins frowned. "We don't have any money."

"I know, but I still don't need help. My apprentice would pitch a fit if I gave you her job, even for a day." He fell silent for a moment. "The courtyard needs upkeep."

They might be able to do that. "What kind of upkeep?"

"Cleaning," he answered, apparently thinking as he spoke. "The ceiling leaks occasionally, and you can see the debris that blows in with every storm." He pointed to the pile of leaves in one corner. "The ceilings don't always meet the walls quite right, so there are a few places where water streams down the brick, and leaves come with it. Weeds like to grow in these cracks, too, worsening the problem. If you keep the place clean and fix the small stuff that every building requires, I would only have to worry about my shop and the big stuff. I think that would be fair payment."

Every other face mirrored Wiggins' own surprise. What kind of landlord only wanted a tenant to take care of the area?

"Deal," he said quickly, offering his hand to shake before Mr. Hobbs could change his mind. "When can you show us how to get there?"

Mr. Hobbs promptly returned the handshake, apparently unfazed by the dirt that most other adults refused to touch. "I will join you in the front room in a few minutes. I have business with Mr. Holmes as well."

Wiggins knew better than to ask what. The others' wide grins matched his all the way down the hall, though Charlie waited for them to reach the deserted front room before she broke the silence.

"That place looks perfect, Wiggins!" She bounced in place, displaying all the excitement she had hidden in front of Mr. Hobbs. "Did you see how big it is? And it's covered! Who ever thought to cover a courtyard!"

"Betcha them holes are big," Jacob spoke up, "like we found in that otha alley. We kin sleep in those iffen we want."

"We can sleep anywhere we want in a place like that. That courtyard is huge." Tom glanced back towards where the adults still talked. "Why do you think he doesn't want anything? Working a few days in the shop every month would have made more sense."

Wiggins shook his head. "No idea, unless it was because of us. Our mum came here all the time. Charlie was too little to remember, but I got to play with a set of marbles Mr. Hobbs kept under the counter while they talked the afternoon away."

"He seems really nice," Charlie said. "Why didn't we come here After?"

"'Fraid to," he admitted. "Mum had saved up the money for their trip before Father's work said they would pay for it. She put most of it away for later, but they decided we could afford for her to put in a custom order with the rest. After they died, though, we needed that money for food. I couldn't risk Mr. Hobbs insisting I pay her debt when I had to worry about finding our next meal. He could have separated us if he decided to hold me accountable for her purchase." He paused. "I hope he found someone to buy it," he added quietly. "I was with her when she put in the order. You would have loved it, Charlie."

"What was it?"

"A matching set of earrings, bracelet, and necklace. None of the stones were real, of course, but every piece carried the same theme running through it. The design was so Mum that I wanted to bring it with us."

"Why didn't you?"

"Don't know where it was. I searched the entire house after you went to bed that night, and I couldn't find it. She hid it too good."

"She left it with me." Mr. Hobbs' voice came from the doorway behind them. He moved closer as Wiggins turned. "I still have the set, as well."

Wiggins hesitated. They obviously had no way to buy the set, but, "Can I see the drawings?"

A wave invited him over to the other counter, where Mr. Hobbs spread a faded piece of paper out to view. Moisture sprang to Wiggins' eyes as his mum came alive in front of him.

"What'dya makin', Mum?"

"Something pretty." She carefully erased and redrew a line. "Come look."

Hopping over several pens and a stack of paper she had left on the ground, he leaned over her shoulder. A necklace covered the sheet, gold framing a variety of colored stones laid out to form so many flowers. A smaller drawing showed a bracelet of the same pattern, with a pair of earrings each sporting a single flower.

"That's cool." A gentle finger traced the bracelet's outline. "What's it for?"

"Just a pretty," she answered, using their word for an item whose only function was to be seen. She had more of those than Father did. "Your father said it could be my Christmas present."

"Why would you wanna know your Christmas present in August?" Why would she want to know it at all? Father Christmas only visited children, of course, but the whole point of a present was for it to be a surprise.

She let out a faint laugh. "You'll understand when you're older, dear. Adults look at the holiday a little differently."

He made no reply, content to wait. Maybe after she finished making her pretty, she would teach him how to draw like that.

"Oh." Charlie froze next to him, eyes on the paper. Her smaller fingernail traced one flower as his had so long ago. "Mum had something similar to this, didn't she? A…" She faltered, working to bring forward the memory. "A thing on her shirt?" she tried. "She wore it on special days."

"A brooch, maybe," Wiggins told her. "She said her mum gave it to her. You would have seen it when she kissed us goodbye on their way to the port."

She nodded absently, still tracing the lines their mum had drawn, but Mr. Hobbs dug through a nearby cabinet to reveal a small case hidden in the back.

"You might as well have a look," he said as he flipped open the lid.

Wiggins' breath caught in his throat. Multicolored stones glistened in the sunlight streaming through the window, each framed in a bright gold just as she had noted in her drawing. The jewelry had turned out better than he had ever imagined.

"I kept the original set should she ever come back," Mr. Hobbs said once the others had moved to look over Charlie's shoulder, "but I've made a few variations over the years to sell. The card that went with each piece credited her for the design."

"That's so pretty." Charlie compared the drawing to the finished set. "I like the gold against the colors."

"Tell you what," Mr. Hobbs said as Mr. Holmes pointedly shifted his feet. "Why don't the two of you come back tomorrow? We've kept your friends long enough, but I had something I intended to ask your mother. You might be able to answer, then I can answer a few questions about your parents."

Wiggins nodded immediately, faintly wondering what Mr. Hobbs would want to ask after so many years. "We'll be here. Morning or afternoon?"

"Either," he replied as the case returned to its cabinet. "Any time during business hours is fine."

Wiggins eyed the drawings once more, but he said nothing as Mr. Hobbs ushered them out the door. The other boys had only waited this long out of the shared wish to have something of their parents'. He could return in the morning.

A house mattered more than jewelry anyway, even jewelry that reminded him of his mum.

Hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to review :D

Thank you to those who reviewed in recent days! Each one means the world and provides motivation to keeping writing.

GWBear: Horrible that he had the choice to make, sure, but I'm not sure living in his sister's crowded home would have been on the same par as being with the Irregulars. I might be biased, knowing as much of the universe as I do, but I think I would have made the same decision he did. Sounds like he got the best of both worlds. 50 siblings of all ages and a sister that loves him, while skipping the niece he doesn't like and a brother-in-law that doesn't like him. He probably has a better chance of earning that medical degree he's hoping for in Family Locator having grown up in that courtyard.

Cc: I...don't know what to say. I am honored. That I could help. That you told me that I helped. Pleased, also. A small part of why I started writing these stories was in the hopes of showing anyone that might share Watson's thoughts that they are not alone. I am only a PM away to be a listening ear, a distraction, or whatever is needed. Please don't hesitate to reach out.