The Adventure of the Mysterious Benefactor
Part 1by Stacey (SST205 at aol.com)
Holmes stood with his back against the wall on the far side
of the apartment, partially to watch his two young visitors, and
partially to stay out of their way.
A young lady in a red t-shirt and khaki jeans stepped down
from the hearth, where she had been arranging tinsel and holly sprigs
on the mantel. "Wiggins, where's that wreath?"
A black boy who stood about six feet one stood up from
placing candlesticks on the coffee table. "Umm--I don't know, Deidre--
where'd you put it?"
"Very funny." the girl retorted, reaching up and rapping his
prematurely bald head with her knuckles.
"Y'know," Wiggins said, rubbing his head and tilting it to the
side, his dark brown eyes focusing on the mantel. "Something's
missing."
Deidre gazed at the mantel herself. "Mmm--what?"
"What, indeed?" Holmes said, finally leaving the safety of
the wall space and walking up beside them. "Eyes and brains, kids.
You see something's missing--think--what's the most important
decoration you see 'round Christmastime?"
Wiggins smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand.
"Aww, man--a Nativity scene!"
Deidre pounded her fist into her palm. "Oh, darn! I should
have paid a call to Tennyson's aunt; she has three or four--I'm sure
she would have lent us one."
The compudroid who'd been known as Watson even before he'd
scanned the original Doctor Watson's journals, then been given the
synthetic face, hair and eyes that rang of Holmes' old companion,
stepped in from the kitchen.
"Where in New London is the lad, I wonder? He's never late
for tea."
Wiggins looked at the clock on the wall. "Watson, it's three
forty-five."
"That's my point, Wiggins. He's usually here by three-thirty."
Deidre giggled.
Holmes wondered if they really shouldn't be alarmed.
Deidre saw the familiar 'wheels turning' look in Holmes' deep
brown eyes and said, "There's nothing to worry, about, Mister Holmes."
The 'super detective' blinked slowly and looked at her.
"Really?"
"No, Mister Holmes." Wiggins said. "Y'see, we've known
Tennyson longer than you have. He loves this time of year."
"Relishes it, is more like it." Deidre said, glancing
out the window. One could see red, green, yellow and blue light
reflecting off the glass. "He gets so caught up in the decorations
and lights and singing--as though he's trying to drink in every bit
through his eyes and his ears."
His ears, Holmes thought, grinning a bit. He
remembered the first time he'd met the youngest Baker Street
Irregular. Still being new to the century at the time, Holmes had
thought that the headphones the boy wore were some kind of futuristic
fashion statement. As he found out later, they were actually high-tech
hearing aids.
"He'll be along soon." Wiggins said. "He's probably got
those big blue eyes focused on somebody's elaborate set-up--not only
enjoying the appearance but checking out the mechanics--then he'll see
his on-board clock says it's nearly four, and gun it."
On to part 2
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