Winged Dagger

A Little Thief

Arthur and I stood in a bookstore looking through the shelves, when I heard the shop owner talking to his wife.

"The books have been going missing, and we still don't have proof of who took it."

I closed the book in my hand as Arthur and I shared a look. We approached the couple.

"Do you know who's been stealing them?" he asked, looking between the husband and wife.

They looked at each other, before the wife answered. "We've seen a little child hanging around. He never buys anything, but the books go missing the same day he visits."

"What are the books that have been going missing?" I asked, curious.

"Sherlock Holmes," said the owner. "Always a different one of Sir Arthur's books every time."

Arthur's smile became slightly strained, which I might've missed if I didn't spend most of my time with him.

"I see," he said as he turned to walk away. I nodded to the couple and walked with him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, light exasperation in his eyes as he watched someone pull 'The Hound of Baskervilles' off the shelf and tuck it into their shirt. "I think we found our thief."

"He's a child," I said, looking the kid up and down. His clothes were slightly ragged, and his skin deathly pale, as if death were knocking on his door.

"Come on," he said, pulling me along as the kid ran out the door. I was rather surprised that no one else noticed him.

Arthur grabbed the kid's shoulder when we were out of sight of the shop. "You're supposed to pay for the books."

The kid looked up at Arthur, fear in his eyes as he stepped back. "I'm sorry."

I knelt down in front of him, and Arthur and I shared a look. Just a look at his face and his clothes gave me a vague idea of his life. "Why did you steal?"

"Mumma said she can't afford the books anymore." He looked away. "She said the hospital bills are too high. Sherlock Holmes is my favorite, I just wanted to read."

Something haunted Arthur's eyes, something faraway. But he smiled tenderly instead. "Then how about this? You take this book back to the owner and apologize, and I'll read a Holmes story to you every week?"

The kid looked up in surprise. "You'd do that for me?"

Arthur just smiled. "Well?"

The child nodded, and we watched him run back to the shop.

"Why did you offer that?" I asked, wondering if he was just being nice.

"Well, it's my loss if he steals my book, no?" Arthur mused.

I sighed.

The kid ran back to us, his eyes sparkling. Seeing as the sun was setting, we decided to drop him home.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"Alex."

"Alex!" a woman called as she ran towards us. "I was worried!"

"Sorry mumma," he said as he was almost squeezed to death by her. I looked between the two of them. He really resembled his mother, from eye color to hair, to the way he quirked up an eyebrow when surprised.

"Thank you for bringing him home...?" she ended on a question as she looked between Arthur and me.

"Mina," I said.