"I thought you wanted to go for a walk this afternoon."

His quiet question faintly broke into my novel, and its meaning registered a moment later. I turned a page, never lifting my focus from the words.

"I did," I admitted distractedly, most of my attention still on the story, "but—"

The rest of the sentence derailed as the author threw in a plot twist, and the sitting room faded from my awareness. Just why would the character do that?

I had no idea, but rereading the paragraph proved I had understood it correctly. I turned another page. Perhaps the author would explain it eventually.

"Watson?"

"Hmm?" The abandoned reply came to mind. "Sorry, Holmes," I continued with a chuckle, tearing my gaze away from the book. "I did intend to wander Regent's for a while after midday, but my motivation left without me. Were you wanting the sitting room to yourself?"

I watched him closely. I could read in my room as easily as here, and he had seemed almost pleased to see me out the door earlier, when I first voiced the plan. Had he wanted the true silence of an empty room?

He would not admit it if so, based on the scowl he aimed at the chemistry set. "Of course not."

Whether he had wanted that silence earlier, I could not tell, but the feigned scowl did not appear false in the way that announced he wanted to be alone right now. He probably meant it, and my attention quickly returned to my book. I always found my armchair more comfortable than my bed for reading.

"Leave me be. I cannot talk to you right now."

"Jane, please!"

No. As much as she valued their friendship, he needed to stay away from her. She avoided his hand to duck into her room, and the bar fell over the door before he could follow. She could not stay where such a thing was considered normal. The night train would have one more passenger as soon as the manor fell silent.

The sensation of being watched broke me out of the novel yet again. He looked away as I glanced up.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"I am not." He dripped something into his beaker and stirred. His experiment did not keep him from watching me from the corner of his eye, however, and I lowered the book with a frown. Did he want me to leave after all? Why would he not just say so?

"Holmes?"

Pounding shook the door below before he could do more than shake his head. He would use the distraction to avoid the topic, I knew, but I did not have time to set my book aside before faint clicks announced an impatient Irregular. Small feet darted up the stairs.

"Doctor! Alpha Protocol!"

McConnel appeared in the doorway as my novel landed with a thump on the floor, and relief bloomed when he spotted both of us home.

"Doris came back from Runnin' and bellowed 'n Alpha Protocol," he said almost too quickly to understand. "She didn't even make it into the courtyard 'fore she started yelling."

I nearly tripped in my haste to reach my bag. While Doris had earned herself the nickname 'Firecracker,' she would not raise that sort of alarm without cause. Her speed announced time mattered far more than I would have liked.

More than Holmes would have liked as well, though he would never admit it. He tried to grab my bag for me. "Holmes, check your experiment."

He doubled back to remove the bubbling liquid from over a burner. I had no wish to leave a time bomb in the sitting room, but he did not need long to halt the reaction. He caught up in the entry, waving down a cab while I locked the door. When a two-seater stopped at the curb, I aimed a question at McConnel.

"Fit or run?"

"Fit," he replied, squeezing between us in the cab's already tight seat. He would not be able to ride there for many more years.

"How out of breath was she?"

"Not much." He readjusted to sit almost facing me. "Didn't run far, but I dunno where she wandered. She'd bring the young 'un back to the courtyard 'fore waitin' fer you to find her."

She would. Her brother would be at work today, and Doris rarely wandered further than on the days Jackson spent at the bank. His busy work schedule meant she knew many of London's streets better than even Charlie, the Irregulars' current leader.

The cabbie sped around a corner fast enough to press me into the side, and conversation silenced to focus on not crushing McConnel between us. He still jumped out in a hurry when the cab finally stopped. While better than running, even McConnel could not be comfortable crammed between two adults in a cab seat meant for two.

"Is the doctor here yet?"

Clint's question drifted quietly down the alley as my feet hit the sidewalk, and Holmes stayed to pay the cabbie while I hurried toward the courtyard. Every Irregular knew something of medicine. They could handle most injuries on their own—and they often did. A call for help frequently found the injured child half-treated by whoever was closest. What could change that?

"Do we have anything for a splint?"

"This cut doesn't want to stop leaking."

"Blimey, are those whip marks?"

"And fist, foot, and blade." Steel threaded Doris' voice in a way I had not heard in years. "Hey, look at me, William. Toldja you can't fall asleep yet."

A child's whimper carried as I ducked through their tunneled archway. Several of the older children still loitered near the entrance, but red curls looked up from a tight huddle next to the emergency exit.

"Doctor!"

A small boy lay on his back in front of her. A fresh welt next to his eye matched the lines on his arms, and a swollen wrist distorted a multitude of cuts and bruises coloring his otherwise pale skin. Clint held a bandage tightly against the boy's side.

"We found him hiding from an older man," Doris said as I knelt. "His name is William, but I don't know anything more. I carried him here because he couldn't run."

I took over for Clint, and wide, frightened eyes abruptly shifted to stare at me. I had not realized he was still awake.

"My name is Doctor Watson," I told him gently, pausing the rapid movements checking the long, shallow cut. "I help when someone here gets hurt. Will you let me treat you?"

Wariness remained, but some of the fear retreated at the question. Doris tapped his cheek when a slow blink left his eyes closed.

"Stay awake, William. You can sleep in a minute."

Bleary eyes focused on her. "T'red. Said I was safe?"

Doris nodded. "You are safe here. I promise, but you can't sleep yet. Stay awake, please."

The cut would stop trickling blood soon enough. I fastened a tight bandage, and he let out another whimper as I carefully inspected his arm.

"Hurts."

"I know it does," I said quietly, "but if I do not treat it, it will hurt a lot more later. You broke the ulna. This bone," I added as I traced the side of his forearm. "I need to immobilize it to let it heal. Doris, grab my splinting material from my bag."

Small hands rummaged through my supplies though I kept my attention on his arm. "It is fully broken, not cracked," I finally determined, "but I don't think you dislocated the break. When did it start really hurting?"

"This morning," he answered, his voice small. "I didn't wake up early enough, so Father got to wake me the fun way." He paused, then the words grew softer. "You don't have fun here, do you?"

"Not that kind of fun." Doris spread everything over the blanket William used as a temporary bed. "Fun isn't s'posed to hurt, William, just like parents aren't s'posed to hit. You'll like hearin' what the boys did to that man after we left."

I felt a smile escape. Those boys had probably beaten the man black and blue after finding William like this. William would enjoy hearing that, as would Holmes. My friend and I would have done no less.

Speaking of which. "Did Holmes not follow me in?"

"'E went after Mack," Charlie answered, returning to the empty place on William's other side. "Five o' us scarpered fer th' Alpha, loike us'al, but yon peeler found us 'fore we was done. Oi called a 'Scatter,' 'n Mack took the long way 'ome. Mr. Holmes is makin' sure 'e didn't find hisself a new brand o' trouble."

I hoped he had not. William needed my sole attention. I found more injuries with every look.

"What did he do to your feet?"

Small toes tried to curl away from my exam. I could find no signs of more broken bones, but burns and whip marks intermingled from the soles to well past his knees. The burns appeared somehow perfectly round.

And the size of a cigarette, I realized. On top of beating William, that pathetic excuse for a human had been using him to put out his tobacco. Tiny burns littered the boy's arms and legs, overlapping to indicate this had continued for weeks, if not months. I dabbed some salve on the fresher ones and started treating the many cuts.

"An officer found you?" I asked, unable to keep my tone completely free of anger.

"Don't worry, Doctor," Charlie said with a grin. "'E still got ta find out what 'is whip felt loike, plus two black eyes, a broke wrist, 'n a bloody nose. 'E won't soon forget us."

Good, and that might explain why Mack had not yet returned. Charlie's second had the largest protective streak I had seen in a while. His first concern had always been to protect the young ones, and he had nearly given himself a concussion when Rob's uncle found the courtyard. He could have found a place to watch, wondering if the officer pieced together just what had happened.

"I need to look at your back," I said as I finished cleaning a small laceration on his shoulder. "Can you roll over, or do you want them to help you?"

"I can do it."

I barely heard his reply, but slow movements and more than one whimper gradually shifted him to face away from me. Several more lashes decorated the pale skin. Only one had drawn blood, however, and I let him lie flat again after only a minute.

"Does anything else hurt that I have not treated?"

He shook his head, still eyeing me warily.

"Then I'm done," I told him. "The burns should stop hurting in a couple of days and the cuts in about a week. If something starts hurting more, let Doris or one of the others know, and they'll send for me."

He did not answer for a moment, his attention alternating between me and the door.

"You sure it's safe?"

"He will not find you, William," I promised as Doris nodded. "The others will protect you, and once you heal enough to stand without pain, they'll start teaching you how to defend yourself as well."

Surprise joined the continued hesitancy. "Won't have ta go back?"

"Never," Doris swore. "You're one of us now, William. Family sticks together."

Surprise became a small smile, but footsteps behind me prevented me from hearing whatever he murmured in reply. Holmes stopped several feet away.

"Alright?"

I nodded, standing when William shied from the new voice. "He will heal with time. Did you find Mack?"

"I did." One hand pointed out the boy slowly working his way through the other fighters to reach William. "Lestrade happened on their rescue, and Mack helped him gather enough information to arrest the man."

Helped him? "Did he get caught?"

Lestrade could easily charge Mack with assault and battery for attacking William's father, but Holmes quickly indicated a negative. "Lestrade did not know who helped or where exactly Mack hid," he assured me. "Mack described throwing a pebble at a bloody handprint after Lestrade had already noted the whip and their proximity to the courtyard. He last saw Lestrade forcing the man to walk toward the closest beat."

William would probably want to know as much, but a glance found the boy's eyes had closed. Mack could tell him when he woke. The account might give him a bit more courage with the Irregulars anyway. That mattered more in the short term than a willingness to interact with an adult.

"Do you need anything, Doris?"

She shook her head. "Splint needs to stay on six weeks," she recited, adjusting William's blankets to avoid catching his arm, "and change the bandages when they get dirty or loose—or at least once a day 'til there's a good scab. I think we still have a little of that salve you said makes burns not hurt as much. We'll move him to a cot here in a minute."

"I'll stop by in a day or two to check on him," I promised, "but he will probably be wary of anyone much older than you or Mack, including your brother."

She paused, then agreed. "Hadn't thought of that. We have a few hours before he'll get home, though. We can figure it out then."

Yes, they could, and when a quick exam made use of William's exhaustion to prove he had nothing else I needed to treat, I gathered my supplies. Holmes silently matched my pace across the courtyard.

"What is bothering you?" I asked as we reached the alley.

He twitched a grin at the role-reversal. Usually, he was the one asking me that, at least in the last couple of years. A shake of his head denied answer, however.

"I could ask you the same question," he returned. "I did not expect you to spend the entire day in the flat."

"Were you wanting the sitting room?" I tried again. "I could go read in my room."

"No," he answered quickly. "That was not a hint to read in your room. I only meant that you typically dislike spending all day inside."

Normally, yes, but my book had been interesting, and even the bright sunshine had not inspired me to take my book to my favorite bench. The waterfront did not have the same company as the sitting room.

I could not say that, however, especially when his reply had been almost too quick. Holmes may not appreciate my staying home for such a reason, and I let the silence stretch between us. Irritating him would ruin a nicely quiet day.

"Simpson's for supper?" he suggested after a minute.

"Mrs. Hudson should have started cooking by now."

A scowl at his pocket watch showed me correct, for which I was grateful, but the hands must also have announced us closer to suppertime than I had realized. He hailed a passing cab.

"I did not bring money with me," I warned him. Frequently, if he bought the cab out, I paid for the one back, but I had followed McConnel with only the money I kept in my medical bag. I reserved those coins for emergency medical supplies.

Besides, I would not have been able to pay even if I had remembered the money in my desk. The farthing left over from my last pension check would not cover a ride home.

He did not ask, thankfully, and a wave ignored the comment to nudge me into the cab. We neared the flat before he again broke the quiet.

"What do you say to a concert tomorrow?"

I frowned, trying to recall the schedule I had seen in the morning's paper. "The next one at the university is Monday, I believe, not tomorrow."

"I referred to the Symphony."

Oh. I hid my face in adjusting my bag. "You go ahead. A few of my books are due at the lending library tomorrow."

A long pause brought us within sight of the flat. "Are you going to tell me why you are short on funds?"

He did not need to know that. "Are you going to tell me why you stole from my bag for your experiment?"

His ears colored, and he quickly stepped to the sidewalk to pay the cabbie. I chuckled.

"I thought so."

The deepening red announced he had heard me, but he let the topic drop. I resumed my book when we reached the sitting room.

He would probably replace the tincture later—and perhaps even answer his question in doing so—but some things were simply better left undiscussed.

Looks like William's off to a good start with the Irregulars. Hope you enjoyed :)

Thanks to MHC1987 and Jean-Moddalle for the reviews!

Jean-Moddalle: You make the second request for Patrick. I do intend to do both him and George eventually, but they are being irritatingly stubborn about revealing their backstories. Hopefully one of them will break soon :)