The Case of the Blown-Up Cottage

Part 3

by Cyberwolf (wolf at
Lestrade immediately deposited the baby into the arms of a startled Sherlock Holmes, who nearly dropped the baby. The child cooed and snuggled closer to Holmes, grabbing two tiny fistfuls of the fabric of the detective's shirt.
"Why are you giving him to me?" Holmes protested. He tried to detach the baby from himself but froze when the baby gave a protesting, irritated wail.
"Because, obviously, he wants YOU to hold him," Lestrade returned. "Just hold the kid for a while; it won't hurt you."
The expression on Holmes' face as he glared at Lestrade seemed to indicate that he did not feel the same.
Grayson was fighting a smirk. "Right, now that we have silence - " Lestrade wondered how long it had been since they'd last had it. "- we can proceed with the briefing."
"The baby on Mr Holmes's shoulder there..." Everyone took a moment to look at the baby who was preoccupied in intently studying the cloth of Holmes' shirt. ", so far as we can tell, Henry James Evans. He is listed as being born on July 31, 2102, in Wales, to Lillian Evans. No father or birthplace is given. And the reason that child is here is because we found him late last night sitting in the middle of an impact crater that could have only been caused by a meteor or a nuclear explosive!" Grayson's voice rose by the end, as it tended to do when he was excited.
Henry raised his head, looking at the funny loud man. He stuck his fist into his mouth, sucking thoughtfully.
Grayson then proceeded to outline the case. Late last night (meaning, Lestrade thought, glancing at her watch, a few hours ago) a massive explosion was seen in a small town near the England-Wales border. It was big, it was noisy, and it was serious enough to have set off the early-warning systems of half- a-dozen Western European nations.
Immediately a rapid-response team flew out to the site. To their relief and puzzlement, they encountered no group of fanatics or terrorists armed with explosives. All they found was a baby, sitting in the middle of a huge pit some three meters deep.
The cottage had been atop a hill.
Short and choppy. I know, I know. (sigh) Maybe it'll kick off better tomorrow.
BTW, my knowledge of British geography isn't too great, so give me a shout if you notice something wrong with my story. Or pretend that in 2103 the geography changed. ^_^

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