Sherlock was about to say that yes, he did indeed mind that this small creature wished to disturb him and his peaceful solitude, but something about the boy’s brown eyes stopped him, and instead he found himself saying, “Not at all. Sit down.”

Timidly, the first year drug his own trunk into the compartment and then sat down across from Sherlock. The boy’s feet didn’t even touch the floor.

“My name’s John. John Watson,” the boy introduced, offering his hand for Sherlock to shake. Hesitantly, Sherlock took it.

“I’m Sherlock Holmes.”