The Case of the Missing Irregular
by Stacey (SST205 at aol.com)
The afternoon passed pleasantly enough, with the kids joking around
with one another, and Holmes and Watson thouroughly enjoying it. Holmes
found the three young people to be as large a part of his life as the
original Dr. Watson was -- the differences being that these three were
younger, of course there were three of them, and they didn't room
After a few hours, Wiggins stretched and yawned, then looked at his
watch. "Aw, man--we should go, guys. It's gettin' late."
Watson looked quizzically at the oldest Irregular. "Rushing off so
soon, Wiggins? That's unusual."
"We were given a big assignment at school today," Deidre informed
him, heaving a sigh. "So much for Winter Vacation."
"Whurrrrr." came the plaintive sound from Tennyson's keyboard.
Wiggins chuckled. "What are you worried about? You'll
probably have the assignment done by tomorrow afternoon."
"Yeah, especially since the first part of the assignment is doing
research." Deidre said, knowing her young friend made any excuse
to read--even school assignments.
"We'd best let you go, then." Holmes said with a grin. "Now go on
before the sun starts to set."
The three Irregulars said their goodbyes to Holmes and Watson, and
headed toward the edge of town.
As they came to the somewhat run-down neighborhood in which
Tennyson lived, he looked up at his two friends.
Deidre sighed. "Sorry, Tennyson. I guess Wiggins and I both
decided to walk you home after what happened today."
Tennyson heaved a sigh. "Whurrr-eeep-urr-eep-urrr!"
"Yeah, li'l buddy, we know you can take care of yourself," Wiggins
assured him, "We just--well, you know--you're like a little brother to
us, and we don't want anything to happen to you."
The boy in the hoverchair shook his head and smiled behind the
bandanna covering his face.
Just then the three of them found themselves in front of a tiny
cottage with a picket fence around it. It was still light enough to tell
that the house was a robin's-egg blue, and Tennyson and Wiggins knew for
a fact that there were no leaks in the roof. The little place practically
sparkled compared to the run-down houses around it. Painted on the
mailbox by the gate was the name: C. Fayre.
"Here we are," Deidre said as Tennyson flew his hoverchair over
the fence and turned to wave to them. "Safe and sound."
"See you tomorrow, Tennyson," Wiggins said, turning on his heel
and glancing at Deidre. "Now to get youhome safe and sound."
Deidre rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You know full well I can
take care of myself."
Tennyson sat in the yard and listened to them fuss at each other
until they were out of range of his hearing aids. After that he turned
and went into the house.
The threesome had taken no notice of the two figures in the
shadows across the street.
"Well, I'll be--would y' lookit that."
"What? I thought it was awful nice a' them kids t' bring their
li'l friend home."
The taller of the two received a smack in the arm from his
companion. "Not the kids, y' bloody fool--'t least, not the
bigger boy an' th' girl."
"Y'mean the little fella in the 'overchair. Yeah, I r'member 'im
from this afternoon."
"Y'see th' name on the mailbox?"
"That's right -- Fayre. That's th' name a' the richest
bloody family in this 'ere city."
"Well, if they're so rich, what're they doin' livin' out 'ere?"
The short man sighed and smacked his forehead. "Oh fer th' love
a'...I don't know, but I'll bet that kid's worth an awful lot of
"Ohhhhhh....I get it."
The short man grumbled, "It's about time. C'mon, let's go."
On to Part 4!
The next morning, Holmes woke up at six 'o' clock. He climbed out
of bed and into his bedroom slippers. Sleepily taking the robe that hung
on the bedpost off and putting it around himself, he made his way to the
Watson was just setting a place at the table for him. "Good
morning, Holmes. Did you sleep well?"
"No, I did not, Watson, but thank you for asking." the detective
said, slumping into a seat, putting his elbows on the table and his head
in his hands.
The compudroid set a cup in front of him. "This should help."
Holmes looked up at him and grinned slightly. "Thank you, no,
Watson. No offense, old friend, but the last coffee you made reminded me
of the oil you lubricate your workings with."
"What was the matter, last night, Holmes?" the compudroid asked,
returning to the stove and, as usual, taking no offense. "Thinking about
"No -- I haven't enough to think about concerning them." Holmes
answered, staring into the cup in front of him. "Something was bothering
me terribly -- and I could not for the life of me put my finger on it."
Although he knew very little of such matters, Watson asked, "Did
you try praying about it?"
"I certainly did--all night. Nothing came through."
"Well," Watson said, moving the untouched cup and setting a plate
of eggs in front of Holmes, "I've heard you say more than once that 'the
Lord does things in His time.'"
"Yes, and it's true, I've found. It's just that human patience can
often be lacking."
Holmes said a short grace over the food. When he looked up, a
light caught the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw the light
that indicated someone was calling on the computer terminal.
"Oh...Watson, would you get that? I am in no state of dress or
anything else to answer it."
The compudroid went across the room and flipped the switch that
made the computer screen light up. They were surprised to see the hard
yet somewhat distressed-looking face of Inspector Beth Lestrade.
"Lestrade, what is it?" Watson asked. Upon seeing the Inspector,
Holmes stood and came over to the computer, pulling his robe around him.
He knew that if she was calling thisearly, it must be important.
"You two are not gonna like this." Lestrade said, looking
off to the right and shoving a lock of shoulder-length brown hair behind
her ear. "You've both heard about all the robberies going on?"
"Yes, Lestrade, go on," Holmes said. He got a rather sickening
feeling in his stomach.
"Well -- we've had a...a break-in, if not a robbery. You two had
better get over to Caroline Fayre's house--immediately."
Back to part 1 and
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