"Charlie, very good maths lesson this morning, we'll resume after lunch so if you haven't finished your grammar homework, I would suggest doing that in lieu of pestering your older sister, Charlotte. She's only home for the winter before she's back to school in America, I'd savor that time if I were you." Mary Mortsan said gently as the curly brown haired boy of seven years grabbed his books and darted up the large staircase leading up to the third floor of the Tyler Manor. The Tyler family had employed Mary for a little over a decade. They were very wealthy but also very kind. The parents were both in finances and traveled extensively which left Mary in charge of the children and staff. Charlotte was fifteen and enrolled in a prestigious academy in New York City. Charlie was seven, nearly eight, and still under Mary's tutelage. For roughly a year, Mary had been gone and she knew it was something Charlotte still hated Mary for, as they had gotten very close up until Mary became engaged and took an extended leave of absence from Tyler Manor to travel with her fiance.

By the time Mary came back to London after the death of her husband, Charlie had just turned four.

Since then, Mary enjoyed throwing herself back into her work, despite the hefty money that had been given to her by her late husband. Mary liked to keep herself busy and she also enjoyed helping others and the Tylers were more than happy to continue keeping Mary on the payroll as she began to look after the children again. Turning to look out the foggy window, Mary didn't need to see to know the rain was still falling. It was December 11'th, 1891 and it was the third day of constant rainfall. Mr. and Mrs. Tyler were still out of the country and Mary worried that if the weather didn't lighten up, the children would have another Christmas without their parents to greet them on Christmas morning. Upstairs, she heard a young voice yelling at another to go away. Mary heard a heavy door slam and she quickly gathered up her dress and marched up the stairs. "That was uncalled for, Charlotte, you're supposed to be the one setting a mature example." She huffed as she reached the top and hurried down the hall which was decorated in gold artifacts and velvet drapery. Another door slammed and she saw a painting fall to the marble floor. "Charlie!" She called out but then suddenly the door was flung open.

The boy had a leather pack and began to scurry down the hallway but Mary caught his arm. "I'm running away!"

"No, you certainly are not running away." Mary glared and knelt down in front of him. "I know you miss your parents and you've been struggling with your grammar lessons...I know having your sister here is confusing because you're not used to it and yet you surely do miss her when she's gone...but you are not running away. You are loved by so many people, including myself. I'd be gutted if this was the last time I saw you." She said softly and used her fingertips to wipe away the tears that had fallen from the boy's emerald eyes. "Please go clean up for lunch, I think we're having butternut squash soup, Lily has been tending to it all morning and it smells wonderful." Mary kissed his forehead.

"I miss Kettle and no one else cares! I'm going to find him! He never liked the rain." Charlie whimpered and tore himself from the governess' grasp and kept running. The boy sped down the large staircases and then went for the door before any of the other staff could stop him. Mary got up and hurried after the child, though in her shoes, it wasn't really a safe or easy task. Kettle was Charlie's pet cat who was only three years old. Still just a kitten. It often liked to romp around the large garden in the back but three days ago, it went missing. Mary made many inquiries around the market in the heart of the city and even put up posters with sketches she drew of the honey colored kitty but so far, no one had been able to provide her with information. Many who heard, shook their heads and said more and more pets and people were vanishing but that it surely didn't mean anything. That didn't satisfy Mary and certainly not Charlie who had taken off that wet afternoon and hadn't returned when the sun began to set.

The more Mary Mortsan stood in the front yard with her lantern, calling out for either Kettle or Charlie, the more ill she began to feel. Something didn't sit right. She visited Scotland Yard the following morning when Charlie didn't come home but they said their hands were tied, even if Charlie was the son of a wealthy family. Mary was torn between feeling nauseated and furious. She went back to the manor and remembered her acquaintance, Irene Adler had mentioned she had a friend who was a skilled detective. Mary and Irene had met in a bookstore in late October and had shared a few lunches since then but Mary wasn't sure if she had enough personal pull to ask about Irene's friend. As the rain began to let up, only leaving a misty drizzle, Mary knew she had to try sooner rather than later. She sent a telegram to Irene and asked if she could arrange to have her friend come over the following morning and that she'd be able to pay him handsomely. Irene said he had a friend he worked with named John Watson who would be helpful so Mary had no qualms with him coming over as well.

Irene even hinted that John was a possible suitor for Mary but the blond woman just brushed off Irene's comment as playful banter. For the rest of the day, Mary and Charlotte looked around the surrounding area. There was a park near by and some other large mansions. By the time night fell, Mary hadn't eaten anything, that coupled with the lack of sleep she had been getting, made her quite tired, so much so that she ended up retiring early, only to wake up three hours later. Mary spent the rest of the twilight hours of the evening, in the library, reading to quell her worried mind.

It was December 13'th, the morning he and Watson were to meet a potential client.

For much of his career as a detective, Sherlock Holmes was a confident fellow. Even as a young lad, he knew he had an eye, an affinity for detail and deduction. The male didn't think much of it until he began attending university. He found himself doing well in his classes but still feeling bored, distracted even. Sherlock was speaking to some mates at the local corner pub when they mentioned he should look into a career in solving mysteries. At first he gave it a polite laugh and said he could never be one of those fictional folks but later that night as he staggered back to his flat after beating a man at fisticuffs and thus winning several pounds, he found himself thinking more and more about what his future could truly hold. As much as he enjoyed boxing at the university, he wondered if the aimlessness he felt was due to the fact that he had yet to find a passion he could fully get behind and throw himself into without question or regret.

Boxing his whole life would be a very risky endeavor and one that would end up costing him more than just injuries. Sherlock then decided to test the theory of being a detective by doing the only logical thing. He took a case. It seemed to be a simple issue. A young girl, new to the school claimed that a professor was accusing her of cheating on her essays. Sherlock decided to help the pretty redhead and his friends helped him log information and take eye witness accounts. The more Sherlock invested in the case and everything else, the evidence, the statements, the details...everything, the more alive he felt. Sherlock knew this path was his to take. His eyes and his brain began to work harder and perfect their synchronicity. After solving his first case and deducing that the professor in question had tried to solicit lewd sexual favors from the poor woman and failed, he was trying to get her expelled so she wouldn't be able to protest if she ever tried to come forward with the incriminating information.

Justice prevailed as the girl was given a year's worth of schooling for free, with the professor being fired.

Sherlock was pleased with himself and the girl was very grateful. News spread around the campus of his good deed and skilled intellect paired with his tenacity. Soon Sherlock found himself presented with many more cases to test his competency. The young man was now ready and willing to further push his mind beyond normal expected capacity. He spent many more years studying and helping those in his vicinity. Soon he graduated with more knowledge and confidence than he when he had first set foot on the university grounds. The black haired man decided to travel abroad and do more exploring of the world. He ran into several colorful people, one of which who went by various names but her real one was Irene Adler. She was a cunning woman, alike in many ways but Holmes knew that she was of course dangerous and on the other side of the law which he enjoyed protecting to make money.

Eventually, the man had to return to London and settle down like some sort of stable adult. He found a home on Baker Street and helped the local police as well as Scotland Yard as needed but it wasn't nearly enough to cover rent and food and other frivolous amenities like logs for the fireplace and candles for lighting. Sherlock ended up finding a suitable roommate by the name of John Watson. At first, they didn't get along, as they seemed to be staggering opposites but Holmes could tell that the good Doctor was also a smart one and when he was mulling over a case, it was Watson who suggested approaching it from a new direction, which ended up helping Holmes solve it.

Since then, the two began accepting cases together in order to cover rent as well as weekend trips to the pub. Sherlock and Watson soon got to know one another and could soon call one another friends. Watson had the saintly ability to endure Sherlock when he was a sloppy rambling mess, which was most of the time. And Sherlock could deal with John's pestering worrying and lectures about safety and cleanliness. Overall, they fit well together and ended up solving many crimes thanks to their partnership. As the rain had finally let up though, Sherlock found himself growing bored of the Christmas cheer which hung in the air. By now, he had trained himself to hear things, notice things, smell things. Any small thing normal people missed, he didn't. And through the carols and heavy scent of pine, Sherlock was aware of those children and animals who had been going missing over the past month or so.

It didn't sound strange to him though, so he didn't pursue anything. And since no one had a compelling cause for concern, Holmes was aiming to find other means to make the holiday season feel blessing. But a strange summons from Irene Adler had indeed gotten the scrooge's attention. He and Watson were to come meet her at a woman's home. The woman requesting help was Mary Mortsan but no other information was given. It was very aggravating but he was sure Irene was trying to play on his heart because even Sherlock Holmes had one and he did enjoy helping those in need. He just wished he had more information before walking in blind. Then again, walking in blind was very thrilling and took him back to when he had first been abroad, out of his element. Sherlock stepped outside of their Baker Street flat and saw Watson looking impatient. "We're not going to be late, mother hen." He chuckled. The silver pocket watch in Holmes' inner coat pocket begged to differ, as they were already five minutes late. Holmes hobbled down the steps and got into the carriage which Ms. Mortsan had sent for them.

"I am looking forward to seeing Ms. Adler again, Watson. I had no earthly clue she was back in the country." He commented. "The last time the three of us got together, you lost nearly your entire savings when you bet against her. I dear say you surely learned your lesson, there." He teased as the carriage set off once both occupants were safe inside. "It is a risky move for her though, this friend of hers must be very dear to her..." Which was very odd.

Meanwhile, Mary nervously stood in the front yard, the curved iron gates were open and Irene was standing by her side in front of the door. Inside, tea and a large fire had been put together in the sitting room. Mary tugged at her white silk gloves nervously. "I know the recent rain has made for rubbish roads but how much longer do you think they'll be?" She asked the other woman. Her mind kept going back to Charlie and how this mess was her fault somehow.

When living with a man such as Sherlock Holmes, one must always be ready to be on the move. Like an overly active child it seemed as though the man had a tendency to be everywhere at once sometimes; his deductive skills and his tendency to observe every detail potentially lent itself to this. While often times it was a job that demanded their focus this was not always the case, and even a mundane day could be filled with intense scrutiny of detail and numerous accounts of the most trivial facts. Some days it was a little wearisome, but John Watson had grown accustomed to it. The observations, for the most part, were interesting and insightful yet he dare not indulge Holmes, lest he pander to that insatiable ego the man possessed. Rather, he would acknowledge everything said with only a passing remark, hoping that, a bit fruitlessly perhaps, Holmes might move along and let him focus on his own matters.

John Watson was for all intents and purposes a practitioner of medicine, a doctor if one would. Having served in the Army for a time as a medic he knew all of the most recent practices and possessed a great many skills, all of which served both him and his partner quite well. His tendencies to profess the need for cleanliness and orderly behavior however, byproducts of his time in the military, did not serve them quite so well. Where he was more concerned with keeping their homely abode on Baker Street all neat and clean Holmes could care less, letting his things be strewn all over like a twister had just passed through. In many ways it was like they were a married couple, much as he chagrined to think of them as such, with one always pestering the other to keep themselves neat. Though the two men differed in numerous ways they did get on quite well, and as such made an incredible team. Deduction and reason, insight and practical skill, this is what made up the team of Holmes and Watson.

"For a man of such skill in deduction you can't read a clock for your life," Watson retorted, frowning beneath his carefully groomed mustache. Had it not been for the light drizzle that had been coming down all morning he may not have minded waiting so much, but as things stood his clothes were slightly damp and his umbrella dripping steadily from the drops gathered. With some luck now they could get a move on, as he loathed to keep their clients waiting. Trivial job or not it was only right that they as the hired hand be timely, it reflected upon their person well and gave reason for others to hire them as well. Were he not here to move Holmes along somedays, Watson feared, the man would fade into obscurity simply because he'd never arrive to his jobs.

Climbing into the carriage after Holmes, Watson took the seat opposite him and removed his hat, placing it across his lap as he collapsed the umbrella as well. The journey out to the more rural parts of London wouldn't take terribly long, but when they were already behind schedule he was feeling a bit agitated already. Peering out the window and knocking against the wall to signal the driver to move, Watson looked back at his companion with a disconcerting frown. "Yes, well... I did not expect a woman of her... Standing to be quite so crafty, perhaps this time I'll keep a tighter grip on my wallet," he replied stiffly, not amused by past events. He was certain Holmes had at some point mentioned his tendency to gamble, as how else could Ms. Adler have known? Habit or not he would not be making bets with that woman again, his poor savings simply couldn't suffer another hit like that. "You say that as though she's some apathetic beast, Holmes. She seemed agreeable enough last time we met, theft of my money aside."

To think that Holmes had so willingly agreed to come out here, even with the knowledge of her being here, it was simply delightful. How long had it been since they had seen one another anyways? Months? Irene couldn't remember the exact time, but the events surrounding it were very vivid in her memory; the dress she currently wore was a gift from that Mr. Watson, or rather the money she had gotten from him. What a delightfully foolish man he had been, though she had a distinct feeling that he wasn't liable to make the same mistake twice. But what of her dear friend Sherlock? He never changed and thus she expected little out of him, yet nevertheless their reunion would be an entertaining one. She would, as always, poke and prod at his front as an aloof, cold and calculating detective, always looking for the one hole in his armor. What to him was no doubt a slight nuisance to him was a game to her, one that she was determined to win at.

"I can't say, it depends on how tenacious my friend is feeling today," Irene responded casually, smiling back at Mary, "I don't imagine he'll be long however. My friend will be here, have no doubt of that, as nothing on God's green earth will keep him from seeing to a job. My only real question is how will he arrive here?" Holmes always found a way, whether it was in a carriage, walking, via bicycle or some other means. She could even recall one time where he had stowed away on the back of a donkey-driven cart, only to try and arrive on time for one of his boxing matches all those years ago. How delightful those times had been, she would so love to see him put up his fists again. "Do try not to worry so much my dear, he is an incredible man. This mystery of ours will be solved in no time, I promise you that."

Holmes still liked to insist he hadn't tipped Irene off that Watson had a bit of guilty pleasure found in gambling but their evening out on the town had indeed been so much more entertaining for the boxing detective that he was sure his secret would slip out eventually, mostly out of sheer gleeful amusement. Watson so rarely crept out of his shell, that no one could blame Sherlock for taking advantage of the few indulgences John partook in. "I elected not to warn you of her reputation because it was simply in my best interest to let you learn on your own, a baby bird must fly the coop at some point, Watson." Holmes chided, though his tone indicated he was still rather calm, despite the need to approach new cases with urgency. In his mind, he hadn't taken it on and he wasn't sure if it would be of any interest for him to actually do so. If it were still pouring, he would have outright refused Adler's plea and not left his cozy but very cluttered room where he could resume his countless experiments and projects. "Perhaps you'd like to take the lead on this one?" He suggested.

Mary gave Irene an understanding nod, but she wasn't entirely convinced, despite this being her only hope at finding Charlie and possibly Kettle as well. "I did send a carriage for them, with the constant rain, I didn't want them walking so far in the cold." She explained, her heart going out to those who had to still work in such awful conditions. A few more minutes passed as the wind continued to blow by, causing the tired blond to lose her balance slightly. When it died down, leaving more wisps of fog, the carriage pulled up, making its way through the gate and up to the large manor. Mary glanced to Irene and stepped down the four steps to where the rest of the cool solid stone was before it would be met with soggy grass and stepping stones leading to the backyard and other areas of interest on the property. "Good morning, thank you so much for coming all the way out here." Mary announced as the driver opened the door for the two occupants.

The first voice he heard wasn't Irene Adler, but someone else.

The potential client.

She sounded rather troubled, her voice was inviting yet uneven, and he didn't think the cold had much to do with that.

"Please do come in and warm up. I hope your ride wasn't too unpleasant." Mary said and motioned for everyone to head inside.

Sherlock stepped out and fussed with his long coat, checking he had his pipe on him. Despite his sharp mind, he could be so forgetful. He could leave the stove on, his gun on his dresser, sometimes he even forgot to feed Gladstone but thankfully, Watson was like a guardian angel, able to fill in the missing gaps in Holmes' rapidly working mind. He walked up the steps, moving right past Mary and up to where Irene was perched by the doorway. He looked at her, studied her choice in attire, no doubt an early Christmas present to herself. "Red has always suited you." He said and turned back to see Watson getting out. His gaze then turned to the tense looking blond woman in the dark blue dress. "Actually the ride was rather agonizing but it may have been due to my company. My partner can be a bother if he hasn't gotten enough sleep." He laughed lightly and moved past Irene and let himself inside. Mary gave a quizzical look to Irene before she hurried after the detective.

When all of them were inside and out of the harsh, darkened weather, Mary led them to the sitting room off to the right of the house on the first floor. It was a corner room with long floor to ceiling windows, framed by red velvet drapes which were tied with golden rope. There were many seats and couches, as well as wooden tables and a fire was already made in the fireplace. Lily, the cook, had already set out food and tea for the guests. "Please come in, make yourselves comfortable." Mary offered as she remained standing. Sherlock, on the other hand, took a seat in front of the fire, on a yellow couch. The floor was hardwood, but had a large round carpet on most of the exposed wood. It was a hand stitching of a farm in France, one the Tylers also owned. "My name is Mary Mortsan, I asked Irene to invite you here." Mary said nervously, looking to the other female for a moment. Before the dark haired woman could introduce the boys on their behalf, Holmes spoke up on his own accord.

"You have a lovely home." Sherlock spoke up and stood up for a moment to extend his arm. "My name is Sherlock Holmes." He smiled as she walked over and shook his hand. "I trust you have heard of the many cases I've helped solve over the years." He mentioned. Mary gave him a look and shook her head. She hadn't heard of his name, but she was vaguely aware of some freelance detectives helping people who were in need from time to time. Holmes glanced back to the fire. He had already studied the photos above the fireplace. They were of the family. "So you're a governess." He commented, seeing that she wasn't in many of the photos, and neither were the children's parents. He got up and turned to the others. "It would be very troubling if you lost one of your children before your employers returned. That doesn't bode well for a very happy holiday." He pointed out and walked around the couch to pour himself a cup of tea while snatching a handful of cookies, as he hadn't eaten in nearly a day, as he usually wrapped himself tightly in his work, that Watson often had to pester him to eat, let alone bathe from time to time.

Mary inhaled sharply, not at all pleased by the manner in which the man spoke.

In her mind, Sherlock Holmes seemed to be the sort of man who would throw women trains if it suited him.

Mary looked to Irene and the other man, somehow a friend of Mr. Holmes. "Excuse me? Charlie ran off, it wasn't my fault." Mary's eyes narrowed as Sherlock turned back around to the three. Mary wasn't fond of being accused of mismanaging the children. She cared for them deeply as if they were her very own. She already blamed herself for the boy's outburst, she didn't need a stranger accusing her further. "H-he is at the age where he wants to be seen as an adult. A lot of things have been troubling him as of late and he took off before I could catch up to him." Mary explained coldly. Sherlock gave a shrug and ate a cookie as he motioned for Mary to go on. "If you want to be rude, I don't care but you stuffing your face isn't helping find him." Mary said and looked to the other two. "There have been others who were abducted. And pets too. Charlie lost his cat a while ago and I've been asking around..." She bit her lower lip. "If they wanted money, Charlie's parents could pay easily but...I don't think it's that simple." She insisted.

The tall man swallowed and then took a small sip of tea, finding the temperature very comforting. "You've been asking around? What do you need our help for? Ah, Watson, introduce yourself to Ms. Mortsan, no need to be a ponce." He waved his free hand.

Mary couldn't believe this was the skilled detective Irene had vouched for. She didn't have the patience or energy to be dealing with such infantile morons. "You are helping me find Charlie, I refuse to abandon him!" She declared but found herself feeling dizzy so she quickly took a seat but kept her eyes on Holmes. She then then sighed and rubbed her head. "I'm sorry..."

Like most women, Mary Mortsan had some interesting buttons to push, though her tenacity was what intrigued him the most at the moment. He glanced to Irene and raised a brow, still uncertain as to why she'd befriend such a sweet governess, such an odd contrast to her usual partners in crime.

Comedian Sherlock was not, and his attempt at a joke had fallen quite flat with Watson. Quite literally made at his expense, the poor soul now was going to have to save up for another few months before he could accrue the same wealth, and then he'd only be back where he had started. His savings were meant to be for a vacation of sorts, just a few days to get away from the hustle and bustle, let his mind be at ease for a short while. Being around Holmes so much was akin almost to being dependent on a drug; for short periods it was fairly great, and then were these massive down times where you just dragged your feet, bashed your head against the wall and prayed for the high to come back. Maybe that was a bit of a harsh analogy, but sometimes sticking by the detective's side could prove to be quite difficult, especially when he went on one of his tirades. "Yes, but a bird is best let to fly in safe conditions, not into the mouth of its predator," Watson retorted sharply, narrowing his eyes over at his friend, "Honestly Holmes... I took a long time to save that money, you should be glad I didn't try to make you repay me."

The ride out to their destination had proven to be less enjoyable than Watson might have hoped. Though the carriage driver was alone he spoke with himself constantly, almost sounding as though he were drunk what with his slurred speech. On more than one occasion he tried to strike up conversation with his passengers, and out of effort to simply try and be polite Watson had responded, wishing quite soon he had not. By the time the manor had come into view he knew quite a lot of information about their escort, perhaps a bit too much; where he was born, his children's names, his wife's name, his dreams, his favorite drink, all information that he would just as soon extract from his memory and flush down the drain. A blessing in disguise would appear in the form of the two gates, and the carriage only took them as far as midway before coming to a stop, letting them out near enough to the entrance. From where they stood now Watson could see two women before them, one dressed moderately yet elegantly and the other a little flashy for his tastes, bearing a bright red dress. Were these their clients, then?

"The carriage might be slowed by the weather, keep that in mind Mary. But fret not, they will be here," Irene repeated, offering a smile as she placed a hand on her friend's arm, "If there is one thing my friend is, it's stubborn. It could be another great flood and he would find a way to us, so be certain this small storm isn't going to keep him for long." No sooner had she said that did a carriage's silhouette make itself visible in the rain, the sound of hooves clattering against cobblestone signaling its arrival. Smiling beneath her wide-brimmed, straw hat she watched as the vehicle drew nearer, stopping just shy of the entryway as two men climbed out of it. Immediately Irene recognized the wild locks of black hair, and it took her a second longer to recognize the man with Holmes. So he'd brought his wily little helper with him, had he? Meeting Watson's gaze she smiled innocently, resisting the urge to laugh as he gave her a dirty glance. Still sore about her little bet then, how amusing.

Watson was eternally glad to be out of the carriage at last, even if it meant standing in the rain. Sitting down in that had been a bit unpleasant, and with the carriage driver chattering nonstop he almost wanted to simply walk home when they were done. Giving his hat one good smack before placing it on his head he smiled up at the women, the expression fading for a brief second seeing Irene before turning instead to the woman he could only assume to be their client. "Oh the ride wasn't that bad, and we really should thank you for it. We might have found one ourselves, but getting a carriage in the middle of London can be a bit challenging." As things tended to go, Watson tried to play the polite man and Holmes played... Well, Holmes. Glancing over at his companion with internal dread as he began to speak, Watson rolled his eyes and watched the detective go inside, glancing back at Mary with an apologetic smile. Excellent start to this business transaction, it was a wonder they were even given this job in the first place.

Mary, as he learned her name to be, had a fairly pleasant home. Watson didn't much care for the large estates such as these, but this one held a certain beauty to it that he quite liked. Following Sherlock into the den, Watson remained standing just by the fire place for the time being, hoping to dry off some and warm up from their trip. Against what was his better judgment he let Sherlock begin the conversation, standing by on alert as he waited for his friend to no doubt put his foot in his mouth. The detective knew what he spoke about and could get right to the point, but doing so in a polite, friendly manner was where he was a bit lacking. In fact, simply being personable was really his weak spot, which was a bit ironic since his livelihood involved people constantly. Sure enough, the very first words after his brief introduction suggested that Mary had somehow been negligent, something that Watson hadn't even considered. Where Holmes lacked in empathy the good doctor did not, and he could tell already that Mary would not purposefully lose a child. At least that was his initial assessment, which evidently differed quite greatly from that of his counterpart's.

The exchange between Holmes and Mary was a mercifully short if not uncomfortable one. Watson would venture a guess he was trying to gauge their client's reactions, perhaps see if there might be a hint of her hiding any knowledge from them. His insight was scarcely as good as the detective's, yet he would safely say that there was no indication that anything was being withheld from them. This appeared to be a case of a missing child, one which the hired help of the house had no part in. Listening to Holmes for as long as he did and not speaking up had taken considerable restraint, and once given the chance to introduce himself the doctor jumped at the chance, eager to try and calm down their client; if Holmes angered her and they were dismissed before they even began than this trip was a waste, not to mention he would like to try and find Charlie.

"John Watson, pleasure to meet you Ms. Mortsan," Watson said, smiling politely as he removed his hat, "And let me just apologize for Holmes' manners, for where he excels in intellect he lacks dearly in social skills." Giving the detective a brief glance he cleared his throat, placing his hat down on the mantle of the fireplace before giving his arms a shake to rid them of some water. "We'll be more than happy to help you find Charlie, but we'll need more information first. Simply telling us he's missing isn't very much to go on." He hoped that didn't sound callous, but they really did need more to start their investigation. No doubt the cogs in Sherlock's head were already turning, but he had mentioned giving Watson the reigns this time around, and the doctor would need more to start. Glancing over at Irene curiously as she stood there, supporting Mary by patting her back, Watson rubbed at his chin before looking at the family pictures. "I know you might not be privy to it, but can you tell us of anyone who would wish to harm the family? Any potential enemies, people who aren't happy with current affairs?"

The introduction of John Watson was slightly welcomed.

At least he was more pleasant than Mr. Holmes.

Mary offered him a nervous smile as he introduced himself and apologized on his friend's behalf. She nodded lightly as he then moved to the fireplace and placed the hat he removed by it to dry off. He then mentioned that they would need more information to go on, which she understood. She just didn't want to give too much without them agreeing to help her but from the sounds of it, they were interested in helping so she would do whatever she could to give Charlie a fighting chance for survival. Just imagining him out in the cold or with some sinister abductor, made her stomach churn. "Thank you, I understand completely." She replied and looked over her shoulder at Irene who stood by her, patting her back. Mary was lucky, it wasn't easy making friends when you had money or worked for those who had more than they knew what to do with, but Irene Adler seemed truly considerate and the governess was so grateful for the support.

Although Mary knew the answer to John's question would point them in a promising direction, she really couldn't think of anyone who held ill-will towards the Tylers. Mary shook her head and got up, giving Irene's hand a gentle squeeze before she walked over to where John was, while Sherlock lingered back where Irene was, as he continued to snack. "No, the Tylers are extremely generous and gracious. They do work in finance but I don't think they've ever wronged anyone." It was an option though, if someone was cross with the Tylers, getting to their family would be the route to take. "I mean it may be possible that this is a personal attack but I...I really don't think that it's a stand-alone incident. I really do think someone may be doing something much worse, like a serial killer or something."

Giving Irene another look over, he couldn't help it, Sherlock looked back to Watson, intending on seeing what Watson could do after being by his side for so many years. "I wouldn't have struck you two as friends." He mentioned quietly to Irene. Of course he and Watson weren't outright compatible and yet here they were, after years of solving cases and living together. The man looked back around the room, taking in everything. He finished his cup of tea and decided he would want to slip out and give the home a more thorough inspection. While he didn't think it would give him any tips about the whereabouts of Charlie, he did think it would give him insight into what kind of person Mary was, and the missing child and those were also vital pieces of information. "I doubt this is you turning a new leaf. I'll be right back." He whispered and set his teacup down and moved for the door and quickly excused himself.

"Well, Charlie had finished his morning lesson and went up to his room but ended up fighting with his sister. He decided he would run away, that he wanted to find his cat. I fear he was feeling ignored but I honestly don't think he did run away, we would have been told by our neighbors. He's run away before but has come back hours later...this isn't like that time." Mary told John. "I know it seems like I'm fearing the worst but I know him and I really think he's in trouble." She said.

Holmes spent the next two minutes quickly familiarizing himself with the manor. He only needed a few seconds in each room before he moved on. He found the boy's room on the third floor and Mary's was on the second. The first floor had the kitchen, sitting room, dining room and green house. The second had, the guest bedrooms, two offices, a bathroom, and a playroom. The third floor had the children's rooms, parents room, two bathrooms, and another sitting room and library. Charlie's room gave him a good idea of what the boy was like. He had found many drawing and scribbles of the boy's thoughts. He soon made his way back to the corner sitting room to see Mary and John still talking about the events that led up to the boy running off and how none of his friends or the family's, had any help to offer to the situation, as dire as it was.

"I don't think this was an intentional kidnapping." He spoke up.

He commended Watson for trying that approach first, but Holmes wanted to hear more about what Mary had found. Better yet, he wanted to go out and do his own snooping around. He knew the London arteries very well and was interested in asking the local riffraff what they knew about anyone who was also missing. "If it were, I suspect a note or ransom would have followed."

Mary turned to Holmes and pressed her lips together. "Watson, do you concur?" Sherlock asked his friend, figuring he had a better relationship with Ms. Mortsan than the one he established early on. Mary looked to Irene and walked back over to her, feeling more hopeful than a half hour ago.

"First impressions aside, I am glad you called them." She told Irene.

"I know it's not easy to discuss such things, but it's crucial that we know everything you do to start our investigation," Watson urged gently, trying to be far more delicate towards the situation than Holmes was. If his friend could only ask what was on his mind in a less brash manner then perhaps they would be in business, but as it stood he had only managed to upset Ms. Mortsan. Removing a small handkerchief from his pocket he wiped at his face, tucking it back away and turning his focus completely onto Mary, waiting for what he hoped to be imperative information regarding Charlie. Sadly, the only words she could offer them were uncertainties, speculation at best. While it was not by any means a certain explanation it did get his gears turning, as it no doubt did Holmes' as well, if they ever even stopped to begin with.

"I see... But then... Why would a serial killer kidnap the child of a wealthy family?" Watson mused aloud, frowning as he stroked his chin in thought, "What you suggest may be the case, but it doesn't make sense. Charlie comes from wealth, I would imagine that they would extort the Tylers rather than just kill the boy, don't you agree? There is nothing to gain from this otherwise. In my humble opinion, I believe Charlie is very much still alive and we're just waiting for word from his captors as to what their demands are." How long had it been since he'd gone missing at any rate? A day? While Watson didn't doubt Mary's concerns they were perhaps a bit unnecessary, at least in his experience. A single day could mean any number of things, it was after that initial day that one had to really begin to worry. "Of course... No two cases are alike. It could very well be the boy was a victim of circumstance and taking him was never the intent to begin with. It does happen, and if that is the case it is more probable than not he's still alive and well."

Irene did what little she could to console her friend Mary, knowing she was likely in a very dark place right now. If the Tylers were to return and find their son gone under her care there would no doubt be ramifications, and more likely than not it would be her head on the chopping block. She did seem like a genuine woman, but how much of this, did she wonder, was to simply cover her own neck? Watching as Mary moved away to speak with Watson the faintest of smiles crept onto Ms. Adler's lips, not even having to turn to know who was approaching her. "Perhaps your powers of perception aren't as great as you think?" she retorted softly, glancing over at Holmes teasingly, "But we are friends, sure as you and John are, my dear. I'm merely here trying to help her in her time of need." True, it was a bit unlike her to show outward concern, but then people could change, couldn't they? She had her fair share of a dark past and yet had turned it around, now being a proper and prim woman, and honest at that. Nonetheless Holmes saw fit to doubt her, making Irene raise an eyebrow as she sniffed distastefully. "Well isn't that a shame... Do be careful Sherlock, I'd hate for you to get lost," she teased again, watching as the man slipped away into the next room.

"So a regular day that somehow turned into this... It makes me think this was more of a freak chance than anything," Watson said, nodding to himself, "To me it more sounds as though he may have been at the wrong place at the wrong time, that's all. Your neighbors surely would have seen something, or heard something, so it makes me wonder where he may have wandered off to." If they could just find out where he had gone, retrace the child's steps then perhaps they may find a little more clues. Setting his gaze on Ms. Morstan sympathetically he nodded his head, reaching out and taking her hand, giving it a gentle patting. "Rest assured we'll find Charlie. He may not seem it, but Holmes is the best at what he does. So long as there is a single trace of the boy on this world you can be certain he will be found."

As if summoned by some unspoken cue, Holmes rejoined them in the den not a second after the words had been shared. Nodding in agreement with that his friend had surmised he grabbed his hat back from the mantle, turning it over carefully and inspecting it before placing it back onto his head. As he'd suggested, more of happenstance than anything, as even the carefullest of kidnappers always left a sort of trail behind. More likely than not Charlie had ended up a ways from his home before vanishing, so perhaps he had been chasing that cat of his? "I do Holmes, I do. Before we return to London though perhaps we'd best investigate around the manor? Tracks, something left behind, anything we might find to give us an idea as to what happened?" Watson suggested, stepping closer to Holmes as he lowered his voice, "Besides, I am in no rush to get back in that drunkard's carriage."

Watching Holmes wander about and work was somewhat amusing, and intriguing as well. Just what went on in that wonderous mind of his, she wondered? The way his thoughts came about, the way he pieced clues and bits of information together, it was just so fascinating. This friend of his too, Watson, he wasn't exactly dim either, the two most certainly made a formidable team. "I did say they were good, didn't I?" Irene asked, smiling kindly as she looked at Mary, "They'll find Charlie, Mary, I don't doubt that for a second. There isn't a soul alive who can outwit them." Well, perhaps not, it was yet to be seen whether they were truly as clever as they liked to think.

Unfortunately, Mary had already checked Charlie's usual haunts but to no avail. Of course she would have no qualms with returning to them with Mr. Watson and Mr. Holmes, as they were more likely to be able to spot anything she had missed. And it may also be useful for them to hear any statements or tips first hand. "Thank you." She smiled to John as he took her hand briefly. She gave him a light squeeze in return and turned to see the return of the dark haired man. After some brief words, Sherlock Holmes agreed that they would need to keep looking further into the disappearance. That was wonderful news and it meant there was still a chance they could find Charlie, because Mary knew attempting it on it her own, would be highly unwise. As she moved to Ms. Adler, she offered her gratitude to the woman for being so resourceful. "It's a miracle you have such friends who can help mend together tragedy, I owe you and them so much." Even just to listen to her and acknowledge the incident, was a blessing in Mary's eyes. Small progress was much better than none at all.

When his dear doctor friend mentioned needing to look around the house for any signs, Holmes held up his hand. "Already done." He said quickly. "I looked on the inside and used the windows to check the outside." He added. "With the recent downpour, any evidence has surely been washed away but it also gives us some leads." He mentioned. Most of the roads were awfully muddy and Holmes was willing to bet that the weather could have helped leave behind some clues, if they looked hard enough and in the proper places. "I'm not discouraged, however." He assured the man and looked to Irene and Mary. "We will need Mary to show us where Charlie would usually go. If this truly was an incident in relation to the other missing people and pets, we'll need to quickly find a place for them all to intersect. Someone would want to pull victims from a location they're used to, a location that is likely often overlooked." He figured. "The victims may only be connected by being in the wrong place at the wrong time but if we knew the area, we could offer a tempting victim as bait."

Mary moved over to overhead his last sentiment.

"Would that really be necessary?" Mary frowned and glanced back to Irene, not at all comfortable with setting bait and risking an innocent person being lost. But at the same time, it could be a last resort for them, if it meant finding Charlie and anyone else. So the woman was conflicted, unsure of which moral she ought to stick by and which she could abandon for the greater good. Holmes then assured Mary that it wouldn't come to that unless they were truly out of options. Mary nodded and folded her arms, staying silent for a few moments before saying, "If it does have to happen, I'd prefer it be me." She didn't want to involve anyone else who didn't need to be pulled into something unknown and dangerous. Charlie was more than just her responsibility, she loved him like he was her own and she would be damned if he had to be scared or hurt anymore than she could help. "So you two would like to see where he usually goes, right?" Mary changed the topic. "They aren't very far, just on the edge of the city, I've caught him hanging out after supper on some summer evenings." She mentioned.

For Holmes, the notion of Mary volunteering to pose as possible bait had been somewhat unexpected.

He hadn't expected Mary to offer herself to such a devious plan, nor did he expect them needing to resort to such a risky tactic. Even so, it was reassuring to know she was capable of tearing herself away from the sidelines. Holes wasn't fond of the wallflowers and that was often made evident by the particular brand of women that caught his attention. Irene Adler was proof that Sherlock much preferred women have some fight to them, otherwise life would become rather dreary. Of course romance wasn't often on Sherlock's radar but with Irene back in the picture, he at least knew he could rely on her to make things more lively around London. Though she claimed to have changed her ways, he wouldn't believe it until he personally tested her claim of now walking the straight and narrow path of a virtuous citizen who kept their nose out of the most tempting of trouble. "Of course, we should make haste at once, chin up Watson." Holmes threw his friend a grin before patting him on the back. Holmes readied himself to go back out into the cold but paused to look at Adler. "Did you wish to accompany us as well?" He questioned her.

When it had been decided, the group got bundled up once more and went back outside. Holmes suggested they walk instead as it could help lead them in the right direction. Mary agreed, mentioning that Charlie often stayed off of the road when he went into town. Holmes gave her a nod though he had suggested it, not because of that or because of Watson's discomfort with the drunkard, but because Sherlock wanted to get an organic feel of the area. He wanted to let his mind wander and invite all other senses. The sights, the smells, the sights, he knew he could get a better grasp of the events leading up to the abduction if he was in the actual environment, as opposed to tottering about in a carriage. "With Christmas almost upon us, I would expect whoever is doing this, to find more and more victims at his disposal. Tourists visiting and even just passing through would provide him with ample victims for whatever plan he's working on." Holmes mentioned as they walked across the street and followed Mary down towards some wooden sheds which many of the nearby manors used for storage. "If we're going to find Charlie, I fear our window may already be closing."

Although Holmes's assessment was unsettling, she refused to let the odds win against their favor. Mary glanced over her shoulder as she pushed away an empty metal bin which had cardboard boxes atop it. She understood his realism but it wasn't comforting, it was eerily unsettling. "Charlie may be stubborn but he is smart. He'll find a way to keep himself alive and we will find him as such." She said as she crouched down in front of the newly exposed sewage drain and pulled it off. "He's used this shortcut ever since his sister told him about it. It's not a secret, really. A lot of teenagers and kids use it to get into London unnoticed." She explained and headed down the iron ladder and jumped the last bit to land on the side of the concrete which ran alongside the low river of water. "When I spoke to the others in town, who had missing people and pets of their own, a few of them admitted to knowing about the underground system. I suppose it's possible the one behind these events knows about it too." She said worriedly as Sherlock climbed down. Mary moved to the side and pointed up to where the dim light of the cloudy morning was coming from. There were small round holes all along the top and several feet away long the walkway, there was another ladder.

"How long does it take to get into the city?"

"Only five minutes or so." Mary replied and started to hurry along. "Charlie always went up after four ladders, that puts him at the outskirts of London."

"Then that's where we'll start looking. I'd like to speak to those you spoke to." Sherlock said as he let John pass him. "I'd rather ask my own questions and assess the reliability of these so-called accounts." He said.

"Alright, of course." Mary replied and stopped to make sure everyone was still with her. "At least we're out of the dirt." She said lightly to John.

There could be any number of locales where Charlie had ended up, and with London being quite expanse it could take days, no, weeks to search it all. For that reason Watson knew they had to start small, and what better place to begin their hunt than the place of residence? Not a moment after he had voiced the very idea did Holmes return to them, immediately showing there was no need for such an endeavor. Smiling exasperatedly the doctor let out a sigh, nodding to himself before glancing towards the windows. Of course there was no need, his companion could thoroughly inspect a home in moments and come up with information that a full force of officers wouldn't be able to in an hour. Just because the home itself proved to be devoid of any clues hardly meant their investigation was without promise; Holmes would find clues, of that Watson had no doubt, but now they would simply be outside of the home itself. The world outside was even harder to track and single out a single clue, or it would be if you didn't know what to look for. Footprints, the faint trails left by a cart's wheels, disturbed foliage, anything that might indicate movement could lead them to their quarry. Yes, the rainfall might obscure some of this, but you could not wholly eliminate every trace.

Ever the gentlemen, Watson had offered his umbrella to Ms. Mortsan in favor of using it himself, wishing to provide however little comfort he could in these turbulent times. The doctor may have extended the same courtesy to Irene had she not brought one of her own, and if he wasn't still the slightest bit wounded over being swindled during their last meeting. The fact they were avoiding the road right away raised a number of alarm's in the good doctor's mind, and no doubt in Holmes' as well. If one kept to known paths then the likelihood of someone seeing something was greater, it was when you deviated and wandered off that things became more complex. Between the grass and the puddles of water it was difficult to spot anything whatsoever out of place, though again, there was plenty of searching to be done. Their walk would take them well off the beaten path, and interestingly enough to a manhole some ways away from the road. Mary had mentioned before that Charlie tended to take a different route, but he hadn't considered the sewers. For a man as cleanly as Watson such a route was... Well it was far from ideal. This was where their investigation would take them however, and reluctantly or not he would follow them into the depths.

Of course Irene had come along, she just seemed to want to do so to bother Watson. Perhaps he was being a bit cynical, she did claim to be Mary's friend and could just as well be here to console her, should the need arise. Being the last one down into the sewers, Watson made it a point to close it behind them, not wanting to leave any indication they may be on someone's trail. Mercifully the sewers weren't nearly as rank as he'd feared, yet his nose still wrinkled in disgust simply at how unclean it was. Keeping well away from the water as he descended the ladder he glanced around, curious to see if perhaps there were any clues even here before they moved along. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary and noting no cause for alarm in Sherlock, Watson went ahead and followed after Mary, keeping an ear out for anything that might be cause for concern. "Yes, well... I have to wonder whether I prefer the rain, or the sewer," he replied lightly, smiling somewhat as he glanced down at the murky water, "At the very least I know the rain is clean."

Their journey to the outskirts of London had been every bit as brief as Mary had said, with only the sound of their footfalls accompanying them on the way there. When they had come to a standstill at the aforementioned ladder Watson opted to head up first, slowly ascending the ladder and taking a brief pause at the top; a carriage driving over it as he tried to uncover the lid would be most troublesome, best to be sure the coast was clear. That was providing they were even on a road, it could well be in an alleyway or behind a building for all they knew. Hearing nothing above the surface, Watson carefully balanced on the ladder and used both hands to push the lid up, sliding it to the side and climbing out. Sure enough they weren't quite on a main road, but rather one of the smaller, adjoining ones that led from the city to the storehouses and docks. With buildings obscuring most of the sky the rain was mercifully held back, only the occasional spurt of downfall making it through. Kneeling on the road above Watson extended a hand to the others, helping every one of them up and out before rising to his feet.

"It's interesting... I've never really considered using the sewers as a means of getting about. At least... Not one's main means," Watson mused aloud, wrinkling his nose again as he caught a final waft of the sewers below. That might be perhaps due to the fact he would never in a million years consider doing it himself, only if his work were to take him there as it had now. With that painstaking leg of their journey done with they could focus more on searching for Charlie again, which while certainly more difficult was welcome. Taking a handkerchief from his coat pocket Watson wiped off his face, walking to Holmes' side and glancing both ways down the narrow street. "Well Holmes... Any thoughts?" he asked, glancing at his ever-diligent companion, "I'm sure something must be turning in that head of yours."

John's kindly gesture with his umbrella hadn't gone on unnoticed by Ms. Mortsan, though much to her relief, the sky had relented so the shelter wasn't as vital as it would have been a mere twelve hours ago. After the four of them had made their way underground, John closed up the manhole and everyone was ready to go. "You'll get used to the smell." She tried to offer to the others. It was mostly dirt and mold, if anything else. Mary hadn't used it often but, she had used it enough to have gotten over her own uncertainties. As they migrated through the bowels of the city, no one said much as everyone was left to collect and sort through their own thoughts. Mary was still tired but thanks to the aid from Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes, she was given more energy, more room to hope that Charlie could be found and saved. Just thinking about him and any possible other poor souls, made her stomach turn inside out and Mary had to rely on two strangers to pull her through it all. And of course she had Irene Adler, a very strong woman who Mary could admire and confide in.

Meanwhile, Sherlock had already begun to absorb himself in his new, rather dimly lit, surroundings. The man's eyes adjusted quicker than most and he was already looking at the walls and even the canal of murky water, for any signs of disturbance. Any signs of someone in trouble, or any signs of someone causing trouble. He didn't see anything he'd deem out of the ordinary in the sewers. He did however, see a few marks of dirt which he was sure came from some scuffling. The marks followed a narrow path the led off their pathway. He made a mental note to go back and investigate that area further. Before moving along with Irene and the others, he did his best to look through the water in the noticed area, he thought he saw a glint of some sort but due to the limited lighting, he wasn't sure if it was a coin or a key or a bit of metal. Holmes kept moving, not wanting to spread his mental resources too thin. For now, they could focus on the possible eye witnesses and other areas where Mary Mortsan was sure Charlie went. Though he also wished to talk to others. If this truly was a criminal who was honing his skills, they had even less time than once thought.

By the time, they reached the designated ladder, John had taken the initiative to bring them back to the world, with moderately fresh air and room to move. Holmes allowed the women to go up first with their help. It seemed the location was in some small street, like an alleyway. It made sense. People who wanted to move about, unnoticed, would surely make plans to go someplace inconspicuous and this was surely one of the many places that London offered to its occupants, in order to lead a sneaky, shady life. Not that he was accusing Mary or the family she worked for, to be unsettling, but it was curious that the boy had been abducted when many people surely knew he had his own ways around. He was nearly a rebellious age and yet, Holmes still considered this event to be unplanned and dangerous. As much as he'd love to solve it quickly, make a good payout and go back to his dusty cluttered flat, his gut was telling him to be careful and take his time. His brain of course, was often many many steps ahead of his own conscious. When John made a comment about the means of transport and then about his thoughts, he dusted his long coat off and spun around on the back of his heel.

"Yes, my mind is already rattling with ideas, possible ventures." He replied.

He then turned to Mary and Irene who stood by, looking terribly out of place. "So Charlie comes up here?"

"Yes." Mary nodded.

"What for? What does he does? Who could he spend time with here, that he couldn't at home under your supervision?" He asked.

Mary studied the man and pressed her lips together, making a faint puckering noise before she looked to Irene, silently reminding herself to maintain manners and not attack those who were helping her. "While he loves his family and is very fortunate for what he has, he considers himself very lacking in...practical...environments." She said. "He has developed a peculiar fascination for coming out here with his mates and roaming around. He sometimes pretends to be someone less fortunate." She said carefully. "I had tried to dissuade him but it only made things worse so I enlisted the help of a family friend to keep an eye on him." She gestured away from the docks, toward a small collections of homes. "Charlie's friend has an aunt who keeps an eye on them both and has for the past months. There has been no trouble so far." Mary said, though the more she spoke of the idea, the more foolish she felt. It could be possible that the boy and his aunt may have Charlie and are doing it to cause trouble but Mary didn't see it happening and she prayed that the others didn't think her empty minded to trust a stranger to act as a second pair of eyes for a young boy.

"So far..." Holmes repeated thoughtfully. "And you spoke to her yesterday?"

"Yes, I did. She nor, the boy had seen Charlie in days." Mary sighed. Holmes nodded, though not entirely convinced. One minute Mary seemed like a reliable woman, the next minute, she did not. He couldn't blame her, a part may be due to her gender but if a life was in danger, he couldn't wave his hand and simply walk away either. Sherlock needed more information, something to push them in a direction. He looked around the small street once more, noticing how odd it was for the ground to be worn. If it was in a side street, he knew not many would use it, even if they worked as fisherman or with the navy. He was sure that this area was of importance but he wasn't sure if it was where people were taken or where they were abducted. "I could take you to a woman who had her own son taken a week ago, would that help?" Mary asked the two men, not wanting to seem naive or useless. "Like me, the authorities brushed her report aside and said that boys will be boys. How fair is that?"

"I would like to meet her. And you've never met her before now? How did you get pointed to her?" Holmes asked Mary.

"I was asking around here yesterday and someone said a woman had been doing the same thing not too long ago, they told me where to find here so I did." Mary replied. She led them down a series of small side streets. Holmes was already unraveling the setting in his mind. He could see peddlers, prostitutes and other rotten scoundrels, inside his head. The day played out, people went about and tried to make a living. They don't speak much to one another unless it helps them out. Sherlock could see kids standing out but not enough to invite trouble. He could see kids goofing around, then attracting attention. He shook his head as Mary stopped after roughly seven or eight minutes of walking along cobblestone streets and junctions. "Her name was...Martha and the son who is missing is named...Peter, I think." Mary said as they neared a small building with a few flats. Before Holmes could ask anything else, a woman stumbled back from behind the decrepit building and let out a horrifying scream. Mary ran over, recognizing her as Martha. "Are you alright?" She called out as she reached the woman who had fallen to her knees. "What is it, Martha?" She asked.

Holmes smelled the air, wondering why he hadn't noticed it before. The smell of blood. He touched Irene's arm, "Why don't you and Mary take Martha and sit someplace, make sure she's alright." He said before moving onward. Once Mary, Irene and Martha moved around to the front and sat down on the steps, Holmes neared the back of the complex. He glanced to John and then back at the discovery. There, tossed by a trash bin, was a young brown haired boy. His entire chest was cracked open and Holmes could see his heart had been placed with a smaller one, that from an animal. He then saw the boy's legs and feet had been replaced with rabbit paws. He looked around and then went back to studying the body. He crouched down and noticed that the boy's elbows were scratched up with similar paint used in the of the sewer they had just escaped from. Holmes as noted that the boy was in a very inhuman position, like he was pouncing. "Does your son own a rabbit?" He called out and poked his head from around the corner. The woman, now in tears, looked up from her hands and could only give a grim nod before she went back to her sobbing. Mary rubbed the woman's back and gave Irene a worried look.

Things weren't looking well for Charlie.

"How long do you think he's been dead?" Holmes asked Watson as they looked back at their only concrete lead. "And why dump the body here, I don't think it's remorse..."

Watson dared not even attempt to try and undermine Holmes' attention to detail in the sewers, leaving that scrutiny up to the detective. Rather than pour over the dimly lit corridors for clues he kept an ear out for would be travelers, not having any inkling of who else might be traveling beneath the roads of London. As chance would have it they encountered no one in their journey through the sewers, and upon surfacing some several minutes away he was relieved to say it didn't appear as though they had any trouble on their hands. Helping his companions up and out of the sewers, Watson carefully slid the lid back onto the manhole and pulled a handkerchief from his pockets, wiping his hands clean before tucking it away again. This was certainly an unsavory neck of the city, where the poor and destitute seemed to call home and all of the seedy individuals made their business known. Prostitutes and peddlers, pickpockets and muggers, Watson would be hard pressed to say he would ever wish to be here any other time than now. Such a lovely job this was turning out to be, though he'd not be dissuaded by some off-putting odors below and some shady looking individuals here. No, they had a job to do and come Hell or high water he'd see it through.

While Holmes and Mary spoke, Watson made it a point to watch those around them, not quite attempting to even do so candidly. No matter how he may try to play it off it was obvious that their group, well dressed as they were, did not belong in this place. It would be a futile effort then to even try and conceal their intentions, which while somewhat of a blessing was also a curse; If someone like them were spotted prowling in such a poor neighborhood then it couldn't mean anything good, and chances were behaviors would change and any illicit activity going on would cease, if only temporarily. Aside from the few stares that Watson got back they were mostly paid no mind, yet he knew their presence was plenty well known. Noting the sidearm securely tucked away in the holster beneath his coat he frowned, wondering what the chances might be of their asking around here for information. No doubt it would come at a cost, and knowing Holmes it would be from the doctor's pocket, but any price was a small one to pay to ensure they found Charlie.

As things stood they would be going to meet another woman it seemed, an acquaintance of Mary's. Then again they may not even be able to call this Martha that much, as it sounded more like she was a friend of a friend. When you entrusted things to those who you truly did not know, Watson reflected, there was greater chance for something to go awry. Not that he was being cynical and accusing Martha of any foul play, but not being in the "know" as it were could lead to letting something slip, and God knows they had seen plenty of mishaps come about as a result of loose lips. He loathed to think that some poor soul would have led to a child's abduction simply by speaking of them, albeit when compared to the other potential causes having someone let something slip was far from the worst. With Holmes and Mary taking the lead, Irene close behind, Watson took the rear of their group, lowering the brim of his cap slightly as they moved along. The chances of word spreading about a few "stiffs" looking around would no doubt spread, and he was certain that it would inevitably reach the perpetrator of these abductions as well. If that were the case then time would be very much of the essence, as knowing that authorities may be closing in could prompt the abductors to kill their quarry, something they were trying to prevent from happening.

For a moment Watson wondered what it was that Holmes seemed to be curious about, noting the vaguely perplexed look on his friend's face, if for the briefest of seconds. Not a second after he had seen that did a woman's cry ring out, and promptly thereafter did the source of the grief stumble out of a home, looking incredibly disturbed. Hand habitually going to the grip of his pistol Watson exchanged a glance with Holmes before following him inside, not knowing what to expect. Entering the building Watson quickly picked up on the unmistakable odor of blood, not having noticed it for some reason prior to getting to the door. It took only a second more to spot the source of the stench, his stomach sinking like a rock in a lake at the grisly sight. He had seen numerous murder scenes in his time, but it was always just a little bit harder to take when it was a child. That aside just the condition of the body was purely appalling, and the things done to it...

"Simply disgusting... To think someone would do such a thing," Watson mumbled, frowning as he knelt down on one knee before the corpse. The poor boy, hardly seemed to be older than nine years of age. Turning his head as Holmes threw out a question, the doctor swallowed uncomfortably at having to perform an autopsy on the boy when Martha seemed to be in hysterics, making the connection that this must be her missing boy, Peter. Taking a pair of gloves out from his coat he slipped them on meticulously, reaching out and opening one of the boy's closed eyes, inspecting the vessels and coloration. "Hard to say immediately, but if I had to make a guess..." Watson began, grabbing one of the boy's hands and inspecting his nails, "I would say anywhere from 24 to 48 hours. The skin has begun to discolor and his blood vessels are thinning due to the lack of blood flow. Of course... Given the state of his limbs it's possible he died before then too, as he likely bled out simply from the crude work. It's like someone just took a hacksaw to the boy and chopped the parts off..." Repulsive, simply repulsive. Given how the skin was shredded and how hastily the sewing looked to be done it was obvious this was done in haste, either that or with lack of care. The latter was perfectly probably given the fact the deed was even carried out.

"I don't know if I can apply reason to such a disgusting act honestly, but if I had to make a try of it," Watson began, sighing as he looked up at Holmes, "It almost seems like it was done to provoke something. It would be one thing if the body was returned here after he was killed, but given the mutilations it was like there was an ulterior motive to bringing him back. Obviously we can't ask this moment, but we should see if Martha has upset anyone recently. Either that or if Peter has gotten into trouble... It almost seems like someone went over the top with this killing to send her a message, but what for? And if these are the same monsters that took Charlie..." He didn't have to finish that statement, Holmes would no doubt already be thinking the same thing. If these were the kinds of people they were working against then the situation did not bode well for Mary's young ward.

Things had certainly gone a different route than what Holmes had anticipated. While before, he was vaguely curious, now he was certainly more intrigued and more determined to get to the bottom of what was beginning to unfold in front of them, smelling rather pungent in fact. The man teetered from his left foot and then to his right as his friend began to investigate the new found corpse of the young boy. The man had made a comment and crouched down to take a closer look. Holmes looked back behind him, thankful that no other locals had been curious or concerned by the sound of a woman's broken hearted exclamations. He was sure the woman was in good hands with Irene and Mary, given the tone the day had suddenly become enveloped in. He would have warned Mary or Martha to watch for the woman's sticky fingers but right now, he was rather certain that Irene Adler would cease to be a sneaky criminal and take the guise of a shoulder to lean on. John soon drew gloves for sanitary reasons and continued with his own musings. Holmes knew this must be hard for John. While not every case was this gory and awful, Holmes often wondered how the sights on the battlefield had effected John's poor mind. Seeing such a horror, and near such a happy holiday, must be quite tormenting.

As much as Holmes was flaky, he did try to keep John happy with their friendship and seeing such carnage, Holmes was sure that John might lose sleep because of this. He was more sure however, that the poor mother having to outlive her son and see any presents remain untouched, was immersed in an even worse flurry of depression.

Holmes hoped the boy didn't suffer terribly long. By John's estimate however, the boy had been dead from a day to perhaps two. It didn't give them much consolation but at the least, it could give them a lead as to who was where in the area, and who might want to take apart humans and do some sort of weird carnal experimentation. Whoever it was, Holmes was sure they weren't in the right mind at all, which only meant that they needed to make haste. "They were very crude with the stitching." He nodded when John mentioned the use of a hacksaw. No medical professional would do such a thing, it had to be someone else, clearly a very deranged and desperate man. Then John rose and turned to him, mentioning that the incident was done in order to provoke something. A very interesting notion but Holmes wanted John to run with that thought himself now. "Whoever is behind this, is a man who is in dire need of something. A rabbit...it could represent luck, good fortune, rebirth, quickness...quick quick quick." He looked back to the body and noted that only certain parts of the animal had been attached. No ears or fur, just the heart and paws. "He wanted to test the animal's speed...by giving it to the boy." He concluded.

"I believe Charlie could be reunited very shortly with his canine companion but it's not one I would look forward to with earnest." He frowned and patted John before trotting back to the three women. By now, Mary had already been into the complex to bring back a glass of water for Martha from one of her neighbors inside who had heard the distressed commotion. Seeing the two finish, Mary got up and closed the gap between them, electing to meet them halfway as to spare the poor mother any more trouble. Mary inquired as to how bad it was but Holmes held up his hand, even he knew it was a sight not meant for the eyes of Mary, nor Adler. "To describe it as unpleasant would be a rude and disrespectful understatement." Holmes told Mary and glanced back to John, sure that he would agree. "I would not wish for you to see such a thing." He said. Though Peter was returned home but in a state where he could be forgotten, overlooked or easily stumbled upon. It was interesting indeed. "To have his own mother find it, and so close to Christmas too..." For a moment he could reflect once more upon the timing of these kidnappings and heinous experiments and wonder what sparked someone so mad, to begin such a barbaric endeavor.

It seemed Mary was slowly following along his train of thought.

"Come to think of it..." Mary began to say. "I really can't think of a string of such vanishings ever happening, not even around the same time last year. Whoever is doing these...these things, has been prompted by some event or realization." Mary mentioned. "In the books I've read, these criminals either develop the urge over time, or something happens to push them to beyond the brink." She said. "I think the man we're looking for, isn't calculated, but in fact frantic, almost afraid of something."

Martha got to her feet but then sat back down again. Mary glanced behind her shoulder and then looked to John and Sherlock once more, fully aware the odds were already dwindling for Charlie. "I'm not giving up." She assured them. "I spoke to Martha," She began to say. "from what she could tell me," Mary had been as gentle as possible when it came to getting anything useful out of the woman. She knew first hand how hard it was to swallow sorrow and be forced to move on for the greater good. "the only enemy she had was the landlord but Peter was supposedly doing errands for the man to help pay for the rent, why he'd be behind this would make no sense to me." She shrugged a little. It wasn't much help but she was well aware that the next step would be to figure out a connection for more disappearances. Like where they were all last seen, or if they all knew someone, or if they all had money trouble. For now, she was sure they needed to keep moving if Martha was inconsolable at the moment. "If we leave Martha, give her space, we could return and she might have remembered something important."

"But trust me, hanging around here and expecting her to remember important facts, isn't going to do her or us any good. Certainly not Charlie." Mary said firmly, even more determined to keep up and be helpful in some way. Holmes finally tore his eyes away from the pressing blond governess to look to his medically trained friend, finding himself slightly more impressed than when he first laid eyes on the ordinary looking woman, who appeared to be playing a role unfit for herself. Even though Holmes wasn't sure about Mary yet, he still could commend her tenacity. He was sure most women would cry or cower in the face of adversity but Mary, like Irene, had guts to go along with her heart and brain and he had to cut her some slack. It seemed she was trying to keep up like John, and Holmes was hoping Mary would be an asset, as opposed to a liability. And of course Adler was for now, an asset but still a wild card, often unpredictable, which was why he was so fond of her acquired charms. Holmes gave a thoughtful nod finally, agreeing they should leave. "I was thinking it might be better if we split up." Mary mentioned. It had been Irene's idea back on the stoop but Mary had been asked to present it, and so she was. "Perhaps Mr. Holmes, you and Irene could go question this landlord and Mr. Watson and I could follow one of the other leads I had spoken to yesterday."

She turned her blue eyes up toward the sky and saw no new signs of rain, but London was unpredictable, yet often soggy.

"We could meet up back at the manor for a warm lunch in an hour?" Mary looked back to them.

A smile flashed upon Sherlock's face and he swung an arm around John's shoulder. "I'm sure Watson will be fine under your supervision, Ms. Mortsan." He teased. "He loves getting himself into trouble, do be careful."

"Of course." Mary shook her head slightly, rather certain it was Sherlock who ought to come with a bold warning label. Mary then turned and went back to Irene and Martha to explain what would happen now. Irene and Mary helped Martha up and get back into her flat before they headed back outside. "I hope I'm not too forward but...I've caught you and Mr. Holmes eyeing each other...do you two have a...history?" She gave her friend a sly smile as they stepped back out into the cool winter morning. "You two must make...a rather exciting match." Mary considered with a chuckle. Part of her was slightly envious. But of course, she was fond of Irene, even in just knowing the woman a short time. She was sure Irene had good judgement and she just wanted her friend to be happy. Everyone deserved happiness, after all.

While the women were off for a few moments, Holmes dropped his arm from John, now actually feeling like a protective mother hen. As often as they squabbled, Holmes found comfort in having someone by his side. Irene was fine company and like minded with cunning and wit, but he didn't want to send John off with a stranger. Of course John could handle himself, Holmes knew that, deep down. "Watch yourself, there are rumors of people being kidnapped." He said as he took out his pipe and began to fiddle with the matches, trying to light it.