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“Holmes!”
“What?” One hand waved my remonstration away. “You thought so as well.”
“That doesn’t mean I would announce it to the street! There is such a thing as patient confidentiality, Holmes. You know this.” I quickly tried to find the man whose medical history Holmes had rudely deduced aloud, but he had already located his crutch and vanished into an alley. I desperately hoped the man had not heard.
Not that I could do anything about it now, unfortunately, when I had no hope of catching up even if I could find his trail. Another patch of ice tried to send me to the cobblestones.
“Easy.” Long fingers gripped my arm, supporting my weight until my cane found purchase. When I failed to stifle a flinch, he moved to my other side to replace my cane.
“Give that back.”
He ignored me, of course. One hand held my stick well out reach while the other steadied my precarious balance. He waited until we had cleared the ice before voicing a question.
“What else do we need?”
“Garland.” A piece of debris tried to trip me. “Several candles, and more ingredients. We can get most of it at the bazaar, but we need to go to the grocer for some. You’ll have to look at the list for the details.”
“I left it at home.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course he had. Good thing I had expected as much. “Then I will need to look at the list for the details. Where are you going?”
He halted, half-turned as if to guide me back to the flat. A moment’s staring made him suddenly deflate, then resume walking toward the grocer.
“You have a copy of the list.”
“Of course I do. You left the other one at home hoping to get out of errands, and that after being the reason Mrs. Hudson is making us do the shopping. I should have made you do it alone.”
He made no reply, avoiding eye contact as we edged around a group of carolers, but something caught my attention before he could change the topic.
“Simeon?”
Metal clattered against an empty bin as the boy looked up. A smile of greeting flashed white teeth against chocolate-colored skin, though he made no effort to move closer.
“Doctor! Mr. Holmes! Merry Christmas!”
“And to you.” I nearly left Holmes at the street before he matched my pace toward the alley. “Are you injured?”
Greeting became a flash of confusion, then realization when he glanced at the crutch beside him.
“Oh! No, sir. Hip’s been bothering me. Mum says it probably just doesn’t like the weather, ‘n Marty suggested going easy on it with the crutch. Had to prove to Jimmy that I can still help Run, but hopefully this cold snap will break soon.”
I took another step closer, scanning him in the cloud light. Every second found another symptom, and I did not like what conclusion they drew. If Simeon exhibited these symptoms, would the others?
Or did this stem from him having a home and only Running with the others during the days?
“That won’t ease with the weather, Simeon.” His easy grin slowly faded as I reached the alley mouth. “How often do you eat fish?”
He pulled a face. “Never, sir. Stuff’s disgusting. I’d rather go hungry, so I usually either skip or forage those days.”
“So the courtyard still goes fishing at least twice a month?” I checked.
“Yes, sir. More, when the weather is clear. Hot or cold. I tried to get Jimmy to stop doing it so often, but it’s an easy meal, what with the canals, and one of the early leaders made it a rule to have fish as much as possible.”
“Because I told them to,” I agreed. “Simeon, you have rickets. It’s a dietary deficiency, and you only have two ways of getting the nutrient you need. Eat fish regularly, or take two spoonfuls of cod-liver oil daily. Fishing the canal is much cheaper.”
He looked at the crutch, then back at me. “Eating fish will make my hip stop hurting?”
“And straighten the curve in your legs,” I nodded, “which probably contributes to the pain. The slight thickness of your wrists and the knobs on your ribs come from this, too, and all of them will worsen and become permanent if you don’t start giving your body the nutrients it needs.”
He still frowned. “But all the fish I’ve tried makes me gag. I can’t get it down at all.”
“Find a sauce you can put on it,” I suggested. “One of the others might know a few different ways to try cooking it. Or shred it into water and drink it. Any fish they catch in the canal will taste much better than two spoonfuls of cod-liver oil, but I will give you the oil if those symptoms don’t fade. Your mother would help.”
She would, that scowl agreed, but he finally nodded. “Mrs. Hudson might have some ideas, too.” He paused, as if making sure he could go to Mrs. Hudson with this, but the tension drained when I smiled. “Thanks, Doctor. I’ll figure something out, and that’s still better than walking with a crutch all my life. I saw him, too,” he added to Holmes. “Earlier today. He frowned at my crutch but didn’t try to approach. Probably knew I’d beat him with it if ‘e tried ta mug me.”
I could not silence a laugh. “I doubt he would try to mug you. He probably recognized your symptoms. As Holmes so rudely pointed out, Mr. Cratchit carries some of the more permanent effects of rickets, having grown up in a time when it was far more common.”
“Oh.” The murmur joined a glance toward where the older man had disappeared. “I…would end up walking like that?”
“Or worse,” I nodded. “Mr. Cratchit’s treatment reversed the problem not long before it would have grown fatal. You are not as far along as he was—your symptoms are still completely reversible—but you are not far away from having a true problem. If I buy you a bottle of oil, will you take it until the bottle is empty? It would give you time to experiment in finding a fish you will eat.”
He could not hide the look of utter disgust, but a quiet sigh answered. “Yes, sir. I’d take it. Mum’ll help me remember. And maybe find a way to make it taste better.”
“I’ll send a bottle through one of the others,” I promised. “Take two spoonfuls per day thirty to forty-five minutes after eating. Doesn’t matter if you do both at once or split it up between meals.”
“Yessir.” He glanced at the sky, probably approximating the time. “Do you want help shopping? I think I heard you say you had to go to two different places, but I could get the stuff from the grocer while you go to the bazaar?”
I smiled but shook my head. “Thank you, but Holmes would never survive Mrs. Hudson’s irritation if he did that again. Finish your Running, and maybe see if Mrs. Hudson has any spices you can try.”
“Alright. See you!” He limped further back into the alley to check another bin, and when that proved empty as well, disappeared into the maze in search of another spot. I hoped he kept his word. I had no wish to force cod-liver oil on a reluctant child.
I had done so before, however, and I would again. The carolers behind us moved one house north as Holmes tried to direct me around the next corner, and I pulled my thoughts away from Simeon to frown at him. This was not the way to the grocer.
“Holmes.”
Feigned innocence failed to hide the amusement twitching his mouth even as he corrected course. Between the weather and Holmes’ antics, this would be a long afternoon. If he pushed too much, I might just find that bottle of oil and leave him with the rest of the list. An afternoon near the fire sounded like a wonderful idea.
Which he easily saw. Mischief calmed almost immediately before he waved an empty cab. Only when a nod confirmed that he intended to pay did I get in.
“Give me the list.”
Though the single loophole did nothing for his search for more loopholes. I watched the streets pass without replying, my thoughts on a large courtyard on the other side of the city.
If none of those children could recognize the textbook signs of rickets, then I needed to teach another basic medical class. I would pull out my old lesson plans tonight.