Hello, there! So this is actually the first time I've ever written a fanfiction in English. Who!lock, because... well, Wholock (obviously) and I hope you will like it. xoxo

It all happened on a foggy night in London, when little John Watson was lying on his bed, his eyes wide opened because he couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. Even though he was trying not to shudder and cry, he genuinely looked scared and kept covering his face with his blanket. The house was empty, and the entire street was dreadfully quiet. The boy didn't like that.

John Watson was a brave little boy, albeit a bit frightened when he was on his own. He was that type of person who enjoyed company but hated being alone. Unlike his sister, he loved his parents very much and had the brightest and gentlest smile one could ever picture.

That day, however, was not one of those days where he would smile and laugh heartily with his dad or his friends. On the contrary, there wasn't the faintest trace of a smile on the boy's face and he was actually praying that someone – anyone, in fact, would come and stay with him.

John let out a faint whimper when he heard a loud bang coming from outside. Sitting up abruptly in his bed, he quickly ran to his window and opened it to look outside. But since he wasn't able to see through the patch of fog outside, the eight years old decided to grab a torch and go outside to find out what had happened in his garden. So he put on his dressing gown and trotted downstairs, struggling at some point to grasp the keys – he really, really wished he were taller, sometimes.

When he made it downstairs, John swallowed thickly and walked carefully, all his senses on alert. He jolted and almost fell on the grass when a man appeared from nowhere grumbling something barely audible about a bad landing and a swimming pool. The said-man was wearing a tweed jacket and a bowtie that he kept brushing with his fingers unconsciously. But what surprised John the most was that fez on his head. Maybe he was mad.

"Earth. Why always the Earth?" the mad man mumbled while looking around him with narrowed eyes. "I know you like it, sexy, but really, I'd rath- Oh, hello!'

The older one noticed the small boy staring at him with a curious look and smiled widely.

'Oh, look at you, laddy! You look so young! Now, that's always cool. Being young, I remember when I was ninety-nine years old, I would-"

If John had felt a bit scared when he heard the loud bang, he wasn't anymore. The man was actually rather fun – but still mad – and most of all, he wasn't as scary as the monsters inside his house. Still, he stopped talking when John smiled shyly.

"You're not scared. That's good. I like people who're not scared. I'm the Doctor, by the way." The 'Doctor' said quickly, crouching in front of John. He was wearing a wide grin and was definitely pleased to see that John didn't look scared.

"That's a beautiful house that you have there, you know. Oh, look at you, you're so small!"

"I'm not small!" John protested, crossing his arms on his chest in a defiant way. The Doctor chuckled gently at that and nodded slowly.

"Nah, of course you're not. You look cool. Now, I hope I didn't wake you up. Or your parents…' He frowned a bit to himself. "By the way, where are they? Your parents, I mean. They wouldn't let you go outside at this time of the night, would they?"

When the Doctor mentioned his parents, John's smile flattered a little and he looked away, refusing to meet the mad man's eyes while he replied:

'There's just… me.' He confessed, pressing his lips into a thin line. The cold surrounding them was making him shiver despite his will to remain still. After all, he didn't want the stranger to think that he was shivering because he was scared.

"Just you? Where are your parents?"

"I don't know. There's just my sister, but not today. She's at a friend's, left me on my own."

The Doctor moved gently to pat at his shoulder and looked at him fondly. His eyes looked so warm and old at the same time, and even John, as young as he was, noticed that. These eyes were the eyes of a wise man, not a mad one. But in the end, the boy supposed, maybe you could be both.

"Do you want to come inside?" He proposed, another smile tugging at his lips. Strangers were usually not allowed inside, but after all, he was on his own and frightened. "I've got food," he explained, as if it was a sufficient argument to convince the man – well apparently it was, since he nodded and followed John with an excited look.

"Do you have fish fingers and custard?" The Doctor asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "I had a friend of mine who had some and… never mind." He clasped his hand and went to open the fridge and look inside. "Jam?! Who likes jam?" he yelled, his voice slightly muffled because his head was almost inside the fridge.

"I do." John admitted, chuckling a little bit to himself. He had almost forgotten about his fears, and in fact, it felt wonderful… like having a new friend.

"Ah, custard!" The Doctor cried out, looking over John with a satisfied grin. Apparently, he had also found some fish fingers for he was already sitting at the table and opening the packet. "You should try it. It's delicious."

"You should try jam. Everybody loves jam," The boy replied, licking at the spoon, happily savoring the taste of his favourite type of jam.

"You remind me of her, you know," The other one said with his mouth full of food. He swallowed and went on: "My friend. She wasn't scared of me when I met her, but I could tell that something else was scaring her to death. Now tell me my dear boy, what are you afraid of?"

John put the spoon down and stared at his hands on his lap, exhaling slowly through his nose. When he looked up, he first looked on the window, then on the door and finally on the stairs which gave into the upstairs attic. Licking his lips nervously, he finally turned his gaze back on the Doctor and no longer looked happy and smiling. His big blue eyes were staring at his new friend with fear. "The monsters." He finally said quietly, swallowing thickly.

"Monsters, you say?" The Doctor got up, running a hand in his hair before quickly glancing at the door of the feared attic. "Did you tell your parents about those monsters?" He asked softly, walking back to the little boy. The latter nodded quickly but remained quiet. "Ah, that's the thing about parents," The man complained, making a face. "They're all so irrational and never remember about their own fears."

John's face lit up immediately when he realized that this mad man, whoever he truly was, actually believed him. "You believe me!" He stated, looking genuinely surprised.

"Of course I believe you! Monsters, hidden in the attic of a house in London? That's quite something, laddy! Which reminds me… I didn't even ask you your name! Such a clever boy like you must have a fantastic name." He patted his shoulder while speaking and locked eyes with him.

"No, it's a boring name. Like Harry. I'm John."

"Hello, John! Well, I'm glad I actually landed in your garden and met you."

"I'm glad I met you too," the boy replied with a new bright smile. "You're fun and I like you."

Again, the 'mad man' looked touched at the boy's reply and smiled in return. However, John noticed that only seconds after that, he seemed to freeze completely and widened his eyes.

"Hang on… What was the name of your sister, you said?" He asked sharply, grasping the boy's shoulders."

"H-Harry," He was a bit taken aback by this sudden reaction. "Well, we call her Harry, but she's named Harriet. What? What happened to her?"

"John. John. God, what's your surname, John?"

"John Watson."

"I've got to go." The eight years old boy opened his mouth to protest, but before he had time to say anything, the Doctor was already running outside the house and slammed the back door.

"Why don't you stay…" John said quietly, lowering his gaze. A sudden surge of sadness hit him when he realized that he was alone again and that in the end, no one wanted to stay with him inside his house. First his parents, then his own sister who had gotten fed up with his irrational fears had left.

All the same, he wasn't that type of person who easily gave up. It was a trait he shared with his father and for a boy this young; he could become very annoying when he wanted to. Taking a sharp breath, John tightened his dressing gown around him and followed the Doctor's step, slamming the door behind him as well to find him in the thick fog outside. The sandy-haired boy could barely see anything even if he tried to narrow his eyes. Three minutes later, he hit something hard and let out a cry of pain.

Wood. From what he could touch with his hand and could see, it looked like wood. A blue box of wood. Not big but not small either. It was special, though, even though he couldn't tell exactly how or why. "Doctor?"

There was no reply at first, so John called the man's name (if it was really his name) several times, until he heard something open – a door. "John! Sorry, had to check something very quickly. Sorry about that." He frowned a bit to himself and then added: "Why don't you come in? There's someone in here who would like to meet you, I think. He doesn't know that you're here, though and… he's a bit… grumpy, I guess. Definitely grumpy. But not bad. No, he's grumpy."

"What do you mean, come in? It's just a box. We can't fit in here."

"Why don't you find out by yourself?"

What was inside that blue-box wasn't wood… It was... outstanding, cool. Those were the adjectives that first came to John's mind. It was… "It's bigger on the inside!" He exclaimed, and the Doctor seemed over-the-moon to hear him say those words. "Yes! And it also travels in time!" With that, he ran towards the console in the middle of the room and checked several devices with an excited grin as he straightened his bow tie. "Now!" He clasped his hand and looked at John with a serious look. "I talked about a man, and I really would like you to meet him."

"Is he sad?" The boy asked quietly, finally taking his eyes off the console. "The man you talked about. You said he was grumpy."

At that, the Doctor only smiled sadly and sighed gently, leaning his back on the barriers. "What makes you say that?"

John considered the question for some point, and replied with all the honesty possible in the world: "There was this boy in my classroom, he was always very grumpy and snapped at everyone. My mum told me to talk to him, because he was probably sad. And she was right. His daddy had gone to heaven and he missed him. So your friend, is he sad?"

"Yes. Yes, he is." The man replied with a nod. "You really are a good boy, you know that? I don't remember a lot of children who could really see so much. Now, come on, follow me," He gently took John's little hand in his and pulled him along with him. They went across a long corridor that was a bit dark but less scary than his house and stopped in front of a door. There, the Doctor laid a hand on John's shoulder and encouraged him to come inside. "Go on, go inside," He told him softly, giving him a slight squeeze. The young one nodded and opened the door carefully, scanning the room before spotting another man with curly hair lain down a bed, still wearing his clothes.

"I want you to meet my friend," The Doctor said out loud, still holding the boy's shoulders gently. "Sherlock Holmes."

To be continued.

Thank you for reading! Chapter 2 will be posted very soon.

I would like to thank thedoctorsherlockedmyheart who was kind enough to correct this chapter. Special thanks as well to bad-case-of-loving-doctor-watson.