"That's not necessarily true, Detective Young Master."
Aiwass's lips curled slightly upward as he responded in a low voice, "Is it really alright for you not to be peddling newspapers to us?"
The boy with auburn curls and a face full of fine freckles, slender and small, looking only seven or eight years old... must be Sherlock.
Aiwass had easily recognized Sherlock's identity as soon as he got out of the car.
Because Sherlock hadn't hidden himself at all.
He hadn't even tried to properly play his role.
As a newsboy, he wasn't bustling about selling his newspapers. Instead, he stood poised and silent in the shade, surveying every passerby with his sharp and somber gaze.
His look was like a cold, sharp blade, making passersby noticeably uncomfortable. Several cast surprised and wary glances his way, only letting down their guard slightly when they saw it was just a dark-looking child.
"Fox, you are clever... but you must be new, right?"
