Our Little Boy

We'll Take Him

"What happened?" Greg asked.

"I don't know. Sherlock heard some shots and rushed over here." John looked over at the detective. He was crouched down over the womans body, examining her wounds. He stood up and tugged off his latex glove.

"Jane Mayford. 25 years old. The wrinkles on her jacket suggest that she was quite active in the moments before her death." He walked a few feet away from the body and faced the carriage where they had found the baby. He bent down and pointed at the concrete. "The bits of dirt at this spot suggests that this is where the shooter was standing. Therefore, I can deduce that the shooter was aiming at the child and the woman took the bullet to save his life."

"Any sign of the shooter?" asked Greg.

"Aside from the dirt, no. He must have fled in a hurry. Do you know where they took the child?"

"Why do you ask?"

''Could help."

"St. Bartholomew. Pediatric ward." Sherlock called for a cab. He motioned his hand, signaling John to come along.

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"Have you seen this boy before?" Sherlock asked the Doctor.

"Yes. I was helping out in the delivery room when he was born."

"What's his name?"

"I belive it's Hamish." The doctor gently placed the child in a crib and turned around to wash his hands. "Poor boy. He doesnt have any family to take care of him. He'll need to be placed in a foster home until the hospital finds a good family for him."

"We'll take him!" John said excitedly. Sherlock shot a look at him and raised an eyebrow.

"You must be joking."