The Misfits Of Bakerstreet

"We are the ones Mr. Holmes calls when he can't sneak that far. We are the ones he calls when he can't do it. We are the Homeless Network. We are the Bakerstreet Irregulars." That was what I was told, but what I was not told about was the thieves, murderers, and monsters (oh my!!) and now I've been dragged in it. Then there's the totally different and equally difficult Mr. Sherlock Holmes. How will I ever survive this?


2. Fingerprints

A tall man stood in the doorway, his curly dark brown hair shifting in the breeze, and his blue green eyes squinting in the sudden sunlight that shined upon his face. He stood peering out at us in only a blue bathrobe. Kind of odd.

"Ms. Hudson says she cannot answer the door to you children anymore for fear her heart might burst," he explained in a deep, monotone voice. "My heart, however, is perfectly fine, AND SHE OVERREACTS QUITE A LOT." He bellowed the last part and I heard a woman's voice yell down, "I can hear you, Sherlock, and I can't face those poor souls again!" The man, who I presumed to be this 'Sherlock', turned around with an eye roll and began to stalk up the stairs. Nathan laughed quietly and hurried inside and I followed after.

"I am not a 'poor soul'" I heard Tony grumble behind me. I snorted loudly and he jabbed me in the back with his finger. We followed the man into a cluttered room with graffiti and bullet holes on the wall. Sherlock collapsed on his couch with a sigh.

"I assume you found her with the necklace and that she has already touched it and got her fingerprints all over it like normal people do with everything they see," he said. The ending sure didn't sound like a compliment.

"Yes." Tony said, as Nathan handed him the necklace. Sherlock gave him a look and moaned.

"Really? You touched it too?" He said, standing up and stumbling into the kitchen. "More work for me, how brilliant." He said, giving us a sarcastic smile before dropping it. They didn't say anything, so I didn't either. We just stood there awkwardly watching as he banged around with his equipment muttering about random stuff like we were listening.

"JOHN?!" He suddenly shouted, making us all jump.

'Who's John?' I mouthed to Tony.

'His boyfriend' he mouthed back. They both cracked up at the shocked look on my face, and Nathan shook his head as a short man ran into the room. He gave us a nod. "Hi," he said to us in a breathless voice. "Yes? What is it, Sherlock?"

"You didn't get the milk, I said milk, milk!" Sherlock exclaimed, waving his hands about. John gave a small yell.

"Look, I have things to do too!"

"Sometimes they seem like they're a couple but they're not," Tony said. "...I think." We watched as John left with a huff, giving into getting milk. We stayed silent for a few moments before he went back to throwing around things.

"Um... What does milk have to do with getting our fingerprints?" I spoke up. Tony and Nathan glanced sharply at me.

"Absolutely nothing," he said. "Now come here." I came over and Sherlock grabbed my fingers, putting them in something and pressing it down against a blank piece of paper. He shoved me back over to the other boys, working intently. We all sat on the couch as we waited until he shouted, "AHA! I've got it!" before racing out the door.

"Should we follow him?" I asked.

"No," Nathan said softly. "When he needs us he'll call again." I felt this unknown feeling build up in me, like I really wanted to do more. To help more.

"You could join us." Nathan said all of a sudden. Tony gave him a look but then his features relaxed.

"You could." He agreed.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Join what?" Tony came up to me so we were nose to nose, saying what seemed like something he had memorized off a script.

"We are the ones Mr. Holmes calls when he can't sneak that far. We are the ones he calls when he can't do it. We are the Homeless Network. We are the Bakerstreet Irregulars."

I blinked a few times.

"Is it only you two?" Nathan laughed loudly for once.

"No, the others are at main base." He said seriously.

"Main base?" I asked, giggling at the spy term. But all I could think was roof. There would be a roof above me.

"An abandoned place a little while from here. It's where we all meet up." He explained. "There's about six or so. Seven if you join us. Of course, that's not including the older ones Mr. Holmes calls, but we're smaller."

"And more innocent looking." Tony added in.

"Well, maybe I will." I said, still not fully convinced. We slowly made our way out the door, and I wondered where I was going to end up tonight. Under a roof? Or under an overpass?

"No,no,no, I just can't look at you, you're all are so scrawny and..." I heard as we were about to reach the door, all of us looked over are shoulders as an older woman bustled towards us with paper towels folded neatly over fresh biscuits. The smell wafted into my nostrils as we said thank you and left, my stomach rumbling and speaking up without my brains permission.

"I'm in."

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