The Coffee Shop

Chapter 5 - Wednesday 5th April

Christened James Hugo Grant, the boy was a lover of all things in demand. Money, so he could spend it, weed, so he could smoke it, and cigarettes, to impress the pretty girls in his year.

He was only fourteen, but he was a rogue.

He kept this secret from his parents. He felt no guilt whatsoever, for he was quite handsome, consistently achieved good grades in school, and had many a friend to spend time partying with.

He went to a lot of parties in London. He was tall for his age, and looked older than he was, so he could often sneak into clubs, and bars, and wangle a beer or two from the owners of the local pubs. He had escaped from the police a couple of times.

He could befriend anyone, to use to his advantage. He considered this his greatest strength, and it made him arrogant.

There was a freedom in caring for no one but yourself.

So, on a randomly selected Sunday in April, he decided to tell his parents another lie, push the limit. They were none the wiser, instead praising him for seeing his friend.<

Henry, James' closest friend, knew what he was up to. They texted frequently.

So when the police came knocking on Henry's door the day after, he stuck to his story, honoured his loyalty to his friend, despite the fact that by lying to the police, he was risking going to prison. He wanted to do the right thing – he had good intentions.

No one knew that the police wanted to search James' phone, including Henry, but he certainly had questions.

A quick glance at 'The Science of Deduction' gave him the address of the detective, and, throwing his keys, money and phone into his backpack, set out the morning of Wednesday the 5th to talk to the detective himself. The cheapest route was the line 30 bus, which, (he consulted his map app) would take him around an hour. He grabbed his earphones, put them on, and left his house in Highbury.

The bus stopped many times over the course of the hour. He waited, frustrated, and opened his phone.

Going to see that dickhead detective.

Are you crazy?! was the response from his girlfriend, Helen. She was always sensible, and he trusted her.

Did you see the news? He was at the crime scene. He knows something.

You're overthinking it.

And you just love it, don't you.

Shut up. Don't do something stupid.

Affirmative.

He grinned, then switched his phone off. 221B awaited.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective.

The sign threw the boy off, and he stood staring at it momentarily before lifting his hand and knocking, hard and thrice, so as to make his presence known. He heard a noise and looked up curiously. The curtain drew swiftly.

Alright, the boy thought, I have to get his attention somehow.

There was shingle around the front of the house, so he picked up one of the stones and hurled it at the window.

Sherlock opened the window, and called out,

"What do you want?"

It was obvious to anyone who knew the man was that he disliked children intensely. Henry either knew this and didn't care, or he revelled in generally being a nuisance to everyone.