“I thought our conversation would be coming to an end, and so I asked the lad his name.
“‘Sherlock Holmes,’ he responded.
“‘Well, Mr. Holmes, I wish you the best of luck on your endeavours. But before you go, I do have one other question for you.
“‘Go on.’
“‘Why did you say that I was not very good at begging?’
“‘Because it is the truth,’ he said. Then he explained. ‘I have been wandering the streets of London for many days now, as I have been preparing for my education. I have seen multiple beggars in my day-to-day journeys. I have seen the same beggars, but they never stay in one spot. They always shift locations at peak traffic times to gain the most money from the people around them. Some even disguise themselves as they wander so that a person may give them money twice in one day. It is wise on their part, as they do not make enough money to change their lot in life, but they can survive.
“‘But then there is you, sir, a beggar who stays in the same spot every day, not moving much, not trying to improve his trade. No, you have a goal in mind, but begging is not your solution. However, I should point out that in your state, whatever your plan is, it is not working. You shall die on the streets without changing your course of action.’
“I was stricken by his words Father, for this lad, who was blessed with amazing powers of observation, knew my fate. Of that I was certain. He did not need the power of foresight to see what was going to become of me, and I hung my head in shame.
“‘Do not look so forlorn,’ the lad said to me. I lifted up my eyes to see the boy grinning and holding a sovereign between his fingers. ‘Now, I have taken up much of your time, and I wish to compensate you for it.’
“‘Oh, bless you, sir,’ I bawled. ‘Bless you, bless you! You truly are a gift from the Gods!’
“‘Perhaps I am,’ he admitted. ‘But perhaps you are a gift for me as well. I have ascertained some of your background, and I know of your predicament. However, I still have a gap in my knowledge of you, sir. I do not know what preoccupies you and prevents you from attempting to earn a living at begging. Please tell me that which I do not know.’
“And so I did, right there on the street, I told young Sherlock Holmes all about my troubles. I told him about my wife in Ireland, my offer to work at a tannery, and I confessed to my squandering of my money on gambling.
“As I told my story, his eyes glazed over, not like he was bored mind you. More like he was there but not there. Much like those monks you sometimes see with their legs crossed like a pretzel. When I finished, the young man nodded his head a few times.
“‘You are in luck,’ he finally says to me. ‘I do not have an engagement ‘til early this afternoon. That gives me quite some time to solve your problem. I shall return within the hour.’ And before I could say anything, Mr. Holmes quickened away. I didn’t know what to make of the queer fellow and wondered if he truly would return, or if he would forget about me as rapidly as he had arrived into my life. I tried not to think much on his final words to me that he would solve my problem, for a lad like that one seemed the type to find an interest in another topic as soon as he turned a corner. Besides, I thought to myself, if he didn’t return, I was still a sovereign richer.
“But true to his word, my newfound friend returned carrying a small bundle of clothing under his left arm, a large slice of bread in his right hand, and beaming a wide grin from ear to ear. ‘Ah, I hastened to join you, my friend,’ said Mr. Holmes to me, handing me both the clothing and the bread. ‘Now, eat this bread and put these clothes on. Do not tarry. We have much to do in a limited time.’
“So hungry was I, Father, that I believe I ate the bread in three large bites. Then I picked up the shirt and pants.
“‘These clothes are for me,’ I asked, holding up the garments.
“‘That is what I said,’ Holmes quipped. He held a bowler in his hands, which seemed to also intended as part of my new attire.
“Now, Father, odd as this might sound, me being a beggar and all, I found myself not wanting to accept the man’s charity. He had already given me a sovereign, and these clothes clearly cost far more than that. I said as much to Holmes and he snapped at me. ‘Do not accept this as charity. You will soon be able to pay me back for my offering. Now, go down that alley, change your clothes, and come out post-haste!’
“I did what he asked and came out feeling much better. Though still grubby, I no longer looked the role of a beggar by any means. Holmes then popped the bowler on my head. ‘Now, let me see,’ Holmes said aloud while inspecting me. ‘Yes, this will do nicely. Come now! We have just a few blocks to travel, but at your hobbled pace, it will take some time.’
“‘Where are we off to?’ I asked, nervous about leaving my corner.
“‘Why, to Emerson’s Alley.’
“Emerson’s Alley is the gambling spot where I lost most of my money. We play openly in an alley – which as you know ain’t legal and all that – but Emerson paid off the police so that they turned
