Anyone travelling on the London Underground during an unseasonably warm afternoon during the month of September might have been witness to something really rather odd.
Why? Well, every once in a while, a paper plane would flit past their heads, floating with the warm breeze.
Then another, not a minute later.
And another.
Now, any adult witnessing this may have thought it to be a silly prank being played by some naughty children.
A child however, has a greater imagination than a adult—especially if said adult is a regular commuter in a grey business suit.
One child was on the Underground that day; a child who went by the name of Adam. And Adam was not a happy child—certainly not that day. It can't be helped really, when you have a bad day (and his day had been particularly awful indeed). The only good part of it had been when a balloon vendor decided to give him his big red balloon, free of charge simply to "make him smile". It hadn't worked. But he'd kept the balloon anyway.
When he stepped onto the Hammersmith & City train to get to his home, he didn't expect anything out of the ordinary. Instead, he sat down and watched as the train pulled away, leaving him and a grey-faced old lady as the only people in the carriage. Having nothing to do, Adam began to quietly whistle.
That whistle however, died when they got to the station for Baker Street and the doors opened. In fell a man. He was a tall man, almost leaning towards lanky. His hair was a mass of curls and as he struggled to his feet, he let out a loud annoyed huff, catching a glimpse of the astounded Adam.
"What?!" he barked, but Adam had no chance to reply. For no sooner had the strange man got to his feet than practically a hundred paper planes flew into the carriage and smacked against the man, pulling him down again. The man gave out another severely bothered shout and fought against them, crawling towards the doors.
"JOHN!" the man bellowed, but he wasn't heard. The paper planes seemed to stick to him even harder now and they dragged him towards the seat, pulling him down. Adam sneaked a glance at the grey-faced lady, but she merely took one glance at the strange man covered in paper planes and moved away, muttering under her breath about Derren Brown and publicity stunts. Adam continued to watch the man as the train continued its journey. Apparently the man had given up any idea of fighting, because now he sat against his seat, arms folded over his chest and his bottom lip stuck out in a pout.
"Shut your mouth," he snapped, staring at Adam. "You look like a fish."
Adam duly did as he was told, holding on tight to his red balloon. Neither of them said anything for the rest of the journey. Any commuters getting on the train and seeing the sight of a small boy holding a red balloon and a man pinned to his seat by a pile of paper planes quickly exited the train and arranged to catch the next one.
The strange man was forced to stay in his seat until the train stopped at Farringdon station, where he was suddenly jolted out of his seat and moved along and out of the train.
For a moment or two, Adam wondered whether to follow. He was two stops away from home, and his mother had made him promise to be home in time for his supper.
But there was also a man covered in paper planes.
Grabbing his school bag, Adam jumped off his seat and ran off the train and through the station.
He found the strange man sitting on a bench near the entrance to the station, being avoided by commuters and still covered by paper planes.
"What do you want?" the man asked grumpily as Adam approached.
"Why do those paper planes keep following you?"
"Don't know."
"Are you Derren Brown?"
"No."
Adam looked down at the floor for a moment. The man was clearly cross—he shouldn't be aggravating him. But he just couldn't help it; he'd always been a curious sort.
"Why are you sitting down?"
For a while, the man didn't speak.
"They won't let me go," he said finally, muttering it under his breath.
"Maybe… they think you need to be somewhere?"
As if on cue, one of the paper planes fell to the ground, landing in a northeast direction.
"I think they want you to go somewhere," Adam said quietly. The man gave another huff, and it seemed as if he was about to speak again when he was suddenly pulled up by the planes and he jerked forward in a northeast direction. Picking up the paper plane that had fallen, Adam examined it. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it. It was just a plain piece of paper, with scrawls of what looked like notes on it.
Adam didn't say anything, but when he saw that the man had continued to half-stumble, half-walk down the street, he quickly scurried after him.
They continued walking for just under a minute when another of the paper planes fell from the man's body. The man grumbled something, but it tailed off into another set of annoyed grunts as he was violently steered to the right.
Their journey continued on in this vein. Adam would follow, the man would flail or shout, and at regular moments, one of the planes would fall to the ground, indicating the direction they would next be going.
The destination turned out to be a hospital. The letters Saint Bartholomew's Hospital were engraved on the side of the building. On seeing them, Adam frowned and the man groaned. Together, they burst into the entrance. Everyone there—nurses, doctors, patients—stopped at the sight they were greeted with. The man grunted yet again as he struggled against the weight and determination of the paper planes wrapped around his body.
"He… these… they're all with me!" he called to an astounded nurse as he stumbled through and out of the hospital reception.
They ventured down corridor after corridor, with the man still calling for the planes to let him go. Some doctors, on seeing the man with the paper planes and the boy with the red balloon run down the corridor, laughed. Some turned on their heels, shaking their heads in disbelief. Others started following, their phones recording every moment. It was those people the man became most cross with, shouting at them that this was an invasion of privacy and that, as doctors, they should've known better. They evidently knew the man, because they just laughed and continued recording.
The walk came to a sudden stop when they reached the door of a lab.
"No!" the man cried, struggling against the pressure of the planes even more than he had before. "No, no,no!"
Without a word, Adam stepped forward and carefully pushed open the door. The man threw him an angry glare, but that was gone as he was pushed into the lab. He gave one final, defiant flail and promptly fell on his back with a loud thump.
Happy they had completed their job, the planes went still and fell to the floor, scattering around the man's body.
Hearing a gasp, Adam looked up. The gasp had come from a woman, small and brown-haired. Snapping her gloves from her hands, she rushed to the man's side and knelt beside him.
"Sherlock, what…" She caught sight of Adam, and the paper planes, and frowned, looking back to the man. After a moment, she reached into her pocket and brought out a single paper plane.
"Is this part of a case?" the woman asked. "What is going on?"
There was a momentary silence from the man before he sighed and propped himself up on his elbows, looking straight at her.
The woman smiled, squeezing her fingers around the man's arm. After a moment or two, the man returned it.
"Molly… would you believe me if I said I hadn't the faintest idea?"
For a while, nothing was said.
"They wanted him to come here," Adam said eventually, chewing on his bottom lip. A bubble of laughter escaped the woman's mouth.
"Why?"
The only answer Adam could give was a shrug, but the man's grin widened as he watched the woman.
"I think... I think I might have a pretty good idea," he said quietly. And it was with those words that he pulled the woman closer and kissed her.
Adam had not smiled that whole day.
But now, a giggle escaped him and his face lit up as his mouth spread into a wide, happy grin.