The boy burst into tears and placed his head into his arms, shaking with silent sobs.

Holmes walked over and got on one knee in front of the boy. He gently removed the goggles from the boy's head and set them on the floor. Afterward he tugged back the hood on Tennyson's expensive-looking padded jumpsuit and stroked the tousled blond mane underneath.

"There, now, son--calm down. You're all right."

Tennyson looked up at Holmes with gratefulness in his wide blue eyes. Holmes had noted that Tennyson gave him the same look whenever he referred to the boy as "son". Holmes had surmised that it had something to do with the fact that he lived with his unmarried aunt and had no fatherly influence in his life, but he couldn't be certain. He didn't have all the facts.

Watson came over, bearing a steaming teacup in his metallic hands. "Here, lad--this might make you feel a bit better."

"Whurr-urrr." Tennyson touched he keyboard a couple of times in thanks, reached up and took the cup. He tugged the red bandanna he wore down, revealing his mouth and turned-up nose.

Deidre placed a hand on Tennyson's shoulder and said in a gentler tone than she'd used before; "Tennyson, what happened?"