AUTHOR'S NOTE: So John has always been a kid, big time au. I tried to keep some things the same. Sorry for any mistakes. Please read and review.

P.S. this is not related to my other story.

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN SHERLOCK

*EDITED

John Watson had been through a lot, more than what an eight year old should have to go through.

He was a peculiar boy. Average in child cuteness, slightly below average height, and slightly above average intelligence. He had an average family, a dad, a mom, and an older sister. He liked to play outside, watch TV, and eat toast with jam.

He seemed like an average little boy, until you looked at his eyes.
They were the clearest blue, but they held an unnatural amount of sadness and seriousness. They were eyes that had seen too much of the real world, and it was unsettling to see that look on a child. But no one blamed him, how could they, after everything that had happened to him?

His mother had been a soldier deployed in Afghanistan. She was good at what she did, even rising to the rank of captain. Then one day, the fort her team was guarding was attacked. She, along with a few other soldiers, was taken captive. A few days later her decapitated body was delivered to basecamp.
John and his family were devastated, none more so than John's father. John's dad had always treated his wife with respect and love, and her death had broken his heart. The man quit his job at the local pharmacy and devoted himself completely to his children, but the man was a hollow shell.

Trouble for John didn't stop there.

While driving in his car with Harriet in the back seat, there was an incident. Mr. Watson's car exploded. The explosion was caused by a gas leak, a "tragic incident" that instantly killed John's father and sister. John had been waiting in his school's entrance for his father to pick him up when they told him the news. In less than a month, John had lost his all family. He was left all alone.

Because of the suddenly of the deaths it took awhile for John to be placed into the system. While the police tried to sort things out, the young newly orphan was placed in the care of his father's best friend, Mike Stamford.
The boy's life was thrown into turmoil. He stopped going to school regularly, he began living with a kind man who was little more than a stranger to him, and he had the huge burden of his family's deaths on his small shoulders. John really had been through too much pain and grief in his short years.

Which was why Mike felt really bad about leaving him with Sherlock Holmes.

Feeling great sympathy for the little boy, Mike had taken him into his home, temporarily at least. But Mike did have a job, and John really didn't want to go back to his old school. So Stamford had made due with finding suitable babysitters to watch John during the day. This system had worked out perfectly, until the day the sitter called in sick and he was called to come in on his day off. In the short notice, Mike wasn't able to find another babysitter, and all the other adults he normally would have asked were working.
Then he remembered Sherlock. Honestly, the man was the last person he would've picked for the job, but Mike was very desperate. He also knew that Sherlock needed the money for the flat that he had rented in central London. Sherlock may be rude and cold, but he was capable of taking care of an eight year old. Besides, John was quiet and didn't cause trouble, and it was only for a few hours. So taking John, with his jacket and backpack, Stamford made his way to St. Bart.

Mike had texted Molly to confirm that Sherlock was still at Bart's, and was relieved when she answered that he was. Cause honestly, if he couldn't leave John with Sherlock he didn't know what he was going to do. Getting out of the cab with John close behind him after they reached their destination, Mike grabbed John's hand (even though he knew that John didn't like it) as they entered the building. Making their way to the lab, Mike tried to warn John of what was to come.

"Look John, Mr. Holmes is a…well, he is not a very friendly bloke. But he won't hurt you, and if he does it will just be your feelings."

"So, he might not want to take care of me?" John asked with a thoughtful expression.

"Well we will find out right now. Just don't take everything he says too personally, and try not to do anything that will annoy him." Mike tried to encourage, with a light squeeze of his hand.

They walked through the doors and immediately spotted Sherlock. His purple shirt creating a sharp contrast with the white and grey lab equipment. The man was hunched over a microscope, not even looking up to acknowledge their entrance.

John instantly took in his surroundings.
"It's a bit like my da's work." He commented, feeling a pang of sorrow in his chest.

Sherlock barely glanced up at the boy's voice, and eruptively turned his attention to the other man,

"Mike can I borrow your phone, need to send a message."

Mike sighed, walking to the opposite side of the table Sherlock was at, "And what's wrong with the landline?"

"I prefer to text."

"Sorry, left mine in my other coat" Mike responded, not wanting to lend it to him (the last time he had it had taken weeks to get it back to normal).
John remembered what his dad had said about sharing, and reached into his jacket's pocket to pull out a cell phone. It wasn't a super expensive phone, but it wasn't cheap either. His parents had gotten it for Harriet on her birthday; it even had her nickname engraved on it. It was one of his family's few possessions that he had been allowed to keep, along with his mom's old army jacket that he hardly ever took off now.
Taking a couple steps closer to the man he assumed was Mr. Holmes, John stretched out the hand that was holding the phone.

"Here you can borrow mine." John carefully worded his offer, not wanting the man to get the wrong idea that he didn't have to give the phone back.

Sherlock blinked in what could almost be called surprise, and carefully took the phone. "Oh, thank you." He said, after seeing that the phone was indeed a real cell phone. After sending a quick text and handing back the phone, Sherlock really looked at the little boy for the first time.

The boy was short for his age (most likely between seven and nine), his golden blond hair nearly reached his eyes (needed a hair cut, no one had seen to it means something was keeping his caretakers occupied), his jeans were worn down around the knees (liked to play sports), he was wearing plain red shirt, and an army jacket (too big to originally be his, too small for a man, mother's then). The phone didn't originally belong to him either (the boy handled it carefully, wouldn't have left the all those scratches on its side), "Harry" was probably an older brother who had handed down the phone.
Obviously not Stamford's child, boy didn't ask if he could lend the phone. Father must be dead, judging by the tone of voice the boy had used. Mother wouldn't leave her son with a stranger, which Mike obviously was to the boy, judging by body language. Boy had a backpack on (he was going to be staying somewhere, not school would have already been there), and Mike was here when it was nearly time for him to go to work (something very important brought him here, he was in a hurry).
Sherlock suddenly pieced together that Stamford wanted him to look after the boy while he worked. Stamford was a bigger idiot than Sherlock thought he was if he believed he would ever babysit a child. He had better things to do with his time, money wasn't worth doing something so tedious. Sherlock decided to make where he stood clear. He straightened his back and was about to completely blow off Mike, when looked straight into the little boy's eyes.

Sherlock had never seen eyes like that before.
He didn't know that blue could be that deep. Behind the childlike innocence was a weight of soberness, of the likes Sherlock had never seen in a child. They sparkled with fire and life, but were so solemn. This child was a walking contradiction. A boy who had seen too much, yet wanted to see more.
How interesting.

Putting his scarf and coat on, Sherlock decided to test the boy. "Afghanistan or Iraq?" he asked.

"What?" was all the boy could say.

"Your mother, Afghanistan or Iraq" Sherlock clarified.

"A-Afghanistan." He replied too shocked to do much else. Sherlock studied his face carefully, the boy was clearly still upset about his mother's death but had a strange look of sad acceptance. Maybe the child wouldn't be so boring after all. Besides, he had nothing else remotely interesting to do.

"Excuse me," the boy spoke up, "but how did you know that? Did Mr. Stamford tell you about me?" face still incredulous.

"I didn't know and no Mike hasn't shared the slightest information about you with me." Sherlock answered with a smirk.

Nodding in the boy's direction Mike introduced him. "That there, is John Watson." He seemed ready to jump into a long and no doubt boring speech about asking him to watch the bo-ur-"John", so Sherlock promptly cut him off before he could start.

"The pay you're planning to give will suffice." He then turned to John and said,

"I will not play with you, or go out of my way to entertain you. You will have to remind me if you want to eat. I play the violin for hours, and go for long times without talking. If I am going to watch over you, I think its best if we know the worst about each other. So, will you be getting into mischief or bothering me with whining, or anything else that is annoying?"

John blinked his huge blue eyes at him, "I won't cause you trouble Mr. Holmes. I can keep to myself." He responded, after processing everything Sherlock had said.

Sherlock allowed a small grin to form on his face at the boy's (John's) answer. He walked past John with quick long strides, pausing at the door only to turn and say,

"The name's Sherlock, and we will be going to 221 Baker Street, so do try to keep up." He offered the boy a quick wink and vanished through the door.

John stared after Mr. Holm-no- "Sherlock", still dumbstruck by the strange meeting.
"He's always like that." Mike said, rather unhelpfully, though clearly relieved. "You better hurry if you want to catch up to him, take care John."
Shaking his head to get out of his daze, John waved a good-bye to Mike, and then hurried out the door in pursuit of Sherlock.
The most different, but also the most interesting man John had ever met.

More to come soon! Thanks for reading!