PGL: "To surmise then... you found a lost child and want him to live in my house until the Inspector manages to find his parents?"
HGJ: "That's about the long and short of it."
PGL: "Tell me, why did you settle on my home over your own exactly?"
HGJ: "Well, that's a bit of an embarrassment on my part, to tell you the truth. My financial freedom is somewhat limited these days, and well, I've been renting out my residence to a lovely young Romanian couple. I've been sleeping in my office since."
PGL: "Heavens, Henry! You should have said something to me. The theatre can hardly be a comfortable place to lay your head. All those draughts and chills, not to mention the rats. I mean, for a man of your age, it doesn't seem right."
HGJ: "Nonsense. Nothing worth worrying about, George. I've stayed in some far less luxurious locations in my time. Horrid hovels and dire dumps, I've seen it all. Besides, it's just until I discover the next big thing in the business. Yes, all HGJ needs is to find a new star attraction. That'll swing my fortunes right around. "
PGL: "As ever, I have to admire your optimism. A lesser man would have conceded and given up long ago, but not you. You weather every storm and emerge stronger than ever."
HGJ: "Thanks Professor. So how about it? May Howard and I avail of your hospitality for a few nights?"
PGL: "Of course! Stay as long as you need. Honestly, I'd be glad of the company, there are too many empty rooms in this old place. Mrs. Hudson always keeps a couple of the guest rooms made up, in case of visitors. Perhaps we should see what Howard has been getting up to in the drawing room?"
HGJ: "Quite yes. The tyke is very curious, too much so for his own good. Hopefully he hasn't gone exploring."
HP: "Hiya Jago. I made this for you while you were talking. The Professor said it was a drawing room, so I finished my sketch from the police station. Do you like it?"
HGJ: "Howie, you've got talent. I daresay there's an aspiring artist in you somewhere. So, this central figure is me, is it? And these creatures I'm fending off, are they the hooligans who harassed you earlier?"
HP: "No Jago. Those are the frogmen. Part man, part fish, all evil. They lurk in the murky depths, waiting to lure in unsuspecting prey, before they pounce, striking to capture sacrifices."
HGJ: "Sacrifices?"
HP: "They worship a great leviathan who lives at the bottom of the ocean, and if he wakes up, all the lands will crumble into the sea."
PGL: "Well Howard, you certainly have an active imagination. Such creativity is inspiring, especially in one so young. Where does it spring from, I wonder?"
HGJ: "The frogmen are a legend among the dock workers and mudlarks. A terrifying tale pedalled by those who spend time on or near the sea. When I first found young Howard here, a little thief was telling him all about such creatures. Trying to scare you out of your wits, isn't that right Howie?"
HP: "Yes, Jago. But they're real. I've seen them, in my dreams. Horrible nightmares. That's why momma and pop-pop came to London. They said getting away from home might help with my dreams."
PGL: "How long have you had these dreams, Howard? These nightmares?"
HP: "I've always had them. Every now and then. But they've been getting worse for a few months now. Momma was frightened by it. She was afraid they'd take me away like they took daddy."
HGJ: "Who took him, these frogmen?"
HP: "No Jago. The doctors. Momma says he was sick. In his mind. Seeing things that weren't there. Things that made him angry, and that made him lash out. He was locked away. Momma doesn't want the same thing to happen to me."
PGL: "I'm so sorry to hear about your father, Howard. Psychosis is a terrible burden to have to bear. You know, I'm medically trained myself, maybe I can help you. Nightmares are usually brought on stress, or anxiety. I think maybe you're afraid of being incarcerated like your father, and that's why you dream about these creatures coming for you. You're afraid the same will happen to you, and these frogmen are how your mind interprets that fear. Do you understand?"
HP: "I think so, but it all feels so real. *sobs*"
HGJ: "Hush now, Howie. It's OK. You're fine. You're safe here."
HP: "Sorry Jago. *sniffles* I miss my momma. She brought me here to help with my nightmares, but I've just lost her too."
HGJ: "Yes, well, better lost than gone as my old nan to say. You see, when something is lost, that just means it's there to be found again."
PGL: "Howard, can I tell you a secret? When I was a boy of your age, my family lived in China. One summer, I was exploring the forests behind our house, as I often liked to do, imagining myself as some daring discoverer. On one particular day though, I'd pressed deeper into the wilderness than ever before, chasing some imaginary creature as a game. By the time I'd realised how far I'd ran, it was too late. My surroundings were alien to me, and I couldn't spy my path back through the undergrowth. I was lost, and afraid, and I'm not ashamed to admit I had a cry to myself. Eventually, I set about trying to find my way home, but I didn't know the way and ended up heading the the wrong direction. At some point, I happened across the edge of a steep drop. As I looked over the edge, curious in spite of my distress, the ground gave way and I tumbled down the slope for 30/40 feet or so. At the bottom I could barely stand, my leg had been sprained badly in the fall and I was covered in cuts and bruises. I cried again, at the pain of my injuries, and because I was now so far from home that my father would never find me. And that's when a kind old lady found me, while out foraging for herbs and such. She comforted me, carried me the short distance to her home, and tended to my injuries while serving me a wonderful green tea. In that moment, I was able to forget my troubles, safe in the temporary comfort if my caretaker. My father meanwhile had hired most of the men from a nearby village to comb the forest for me. They found me within a day and a half. Let me tell you, it was one of the most terrifying and sad moments of my life, but the kindness of strangers guided me through it."
HP: "Just like how Jago and you are trying to help me?"
HGJ: "Exactly, Howie. We'll do our best to reunite you with your dear mother."
PGL: "Has Jago told you of our reputation, Howard? We are the finest pair of investigators in this city since Holmes and Watson themselves. And we have one advantage over those two, we're not fictional! We'll get to the bottom of this whole affair. Why don't we get you settled in bed, and Jago can recount some of our past adventures. That way, you'll know you're in the best of care, and maybe you'll even get to sleep soundly."
***
PGL: "I thought he'd never nod off. Not that your flair for the dramatic particularly helped matters."
HGJ: "What can I say? I'm a performer, show me a devoted audience and I can't help myself."
PGL: "Yes, but bedtime stories are intended to help children fall asleep. Not to engage in a lively singsong about the Scorchies!"
HGJ: "It tired him out, didn't it? It did for me anyway. *yawns* "
PGL: "That much is apparent! Come, I shall show you to your room before you collapse of exhaustion. We'll regroup in the morning and see what we can do for the boy then."
HGJ: "Much obliged. I can feel the not so gentle tugs of Morpheus on my eyelids."
***
HP: "*screaming* No! NOOOO!!! Myrkfygnnn....You shan't, you mustn't! Blood! The rivers run red with the blood of the sacrifices... The circle has been drawn... Ky'ftgyk nyarthokth Valgthoth...his prison is opening... No! *screams* The blood is the key and the lock... the book is the gateway and the map... Valgthoth qgk'dar, Valgthoth qgk'fkyx, Valgthoth qgk'fygn... Dark and Ancient, Malevolent and Unknowable..."
HGJ: "Howie! What's the matter? You're screaming loud enough to wake the neighborhood!"
PGL: "Stay back, Henry!"
HGJ: "He's having a nightmare, we have to snap him out of it, wake him up!"
PGL: "I fear it's more serious than that. He's displaying signs of a full blown psychotic episode. Interfering now could cause him an injury."
HP: "The endless eye sees all, Valgthoth!"
A moment of silence
HGJ: "Howie? George, is he alright?"
PGL: "Checking his vitals... he's definitely breathing, his temperature feels high and the bed is saturated with sweat. Still, the episode seems to have passed. He seems outwardly fine for the most part."
HGJ: "Look at him, fast asleep, like nothing happened. He's a trooper and no mistake. Shrugging off a dose of the night terrors like that. Hardly surprising given what he's had to deal with from such a young age."
PGL: "The severity of his distress is alarming, beyond any simple measure of night terrors. I'm concerned there may be some condition underlying his emotional trauma."
HGJ: "I hope for the boy's sake that you're wrong on this occasion, Litefoot."
PGL: "As do I, Henry. But illness of any kind doesn't care for a person's kindness or decency. It strikes indiscriminately. Then again, maybe I'm reading too deeply. It may just be down to tales of these frogmen. I daresay just listening to you describe them earlier unsettled my subconscious. I had some nightmares of my own tonight."
HGJ: "Then there must be something in the air. I've also be tossing and turning, with demons in the darkness disturbing my dreams."
PGL: "Something in the air... Accompany me downstairs if you would Henry. I want to hear all about your bad dreams."
HGJ: "If you think it'll help, then by all means. What are you hoping to uncover?"
PGL: "It's little more than intuition, but given the sorts of evil we've tangled with over the years, not impossible. I want to compare our dreams. It could be mere coincidence, but maybe it's possible that we experienced a sort of shared delusion?"
HGJ: "You mean to suggest that if some malign force is affecting Howard, we could also be feeling it's effect? Lead on then, Litefoot. At the very least, talking about our terrors should help us deal with them."
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