The great pirate, Captain Holmes, and his fierce first mate Redbeard the Brave, dashed to the wheel of the ship. They tried to turn it, pulling with all their might, for long minutes, for they knew that if they couldn't turn the ship in time it would crash into the treacherous rocks ahead. All of his crew had fallen asleep under the spell of the Siren, and Captain Holmes was the only one left awake - and the only one who could save the ship.
Finally, with one great heave, the ship's prow turned away from the rocks, only just in time. Passing command of the wheel to Redbeard, Captain Holmes paced to the back of the boat and looked out over the edge to see if the Siren had followed him. He saw no siren, for which he was glad, but he did see -
A boy? What was a boy doing here? Sherlock had never see a boy in these woods before. The only house other than his own for several miles was empty, or so he had thought. Evidently someone must have moved in. He began to play deductions on the boy, but it was hard from such a distance, and the only thing he could make out was a confirmation that this boy was, in fact, his new neighbor.
Sherlock swung down from his pirate ship in the sky, carefully lowering Redbeard down in the elevator that mycroft had helped him build. The boy was some distance away, but Sherlock could see him easily between the trees because of the bright red shirt he wore. Whistling to Redbeard to follow, he walked along behind the boy for a little ways, waiting for him to notice Sherlock. To his surprise, the boy noticed nothing. Sherlock wasn't exactly a master of silence, and when the boy didn't turn around after several minutes, Sherlock jogged up and tapped him on the shoulder, scaring the boy half to death. He turned around ao fast that he fell over, and Sherlock had a hard time nit laughing at him.
"Are you all right?" he asked the boy, who frowned but didn't say anything. "I'm Sherlock. I live in the house nearby." The boy continued to frown, then began waving his hands around in what seemed a ridiculous manner to Sherlock. He was being terribly rude and Sherlock wished he would at least answer to say he didn't want to play. Then something clicked.
"You're deaf! That's what all that is, right?" Sherlock cried. Suddenly he remembered the boy couldn't understand him. Sherlock tapped his own ear, then pointed to the boy and shook his head. The boy nodded and waved his hands around some more. Sherlock shrugged to show that he didn't understand sign language, then pointed towards where his house was, made a triangle with his hands, and motioned for the boy to follow him. The boy nodded and they set off towards Sherlock's house.
At the house, he ran up to his room and grabbed a couple of pens and a sheet of paper. On the paper he wrote "I'm Sherlock. What's your name?"
The boy wrote back "John Watson. I just moved in to the other house a day ago. Nice to meet you!"
"Nice to meet you. Do you speak sign language?" Sherlock scribbled.
"Yes. You don't though, right?"
"No, but I could learn. How do you say Hello?" John grinned and waved at Sherlock. Sherlock waved back and John's smile got even bigger.
"I could teach you if you'd like. It would be much faster than writing," John wrote. Sherlock nodded excitedly.
"That would be great!"
"My name is Sherlock," John wrote, then waved his hands around. Sherlock copied him. John adjusted his movements and had him try again and this time, he had it!
By the end of the afternoon, Sherlock could sign almost twenty words and phrases, including 'how are you?', 'I'm fine,' 'pirate,' 'what's your name?', 'dog,' 'friend,' 'do you want to play?', 'yes,' and 'no.' When John left to go home for dinner, he promised he would meet Sherlock the next morning at the same place he'd met him before, and Sherlock was ecstatic.