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..."