(AN: Obviously I don't own Sherlock or Once Upon a Time. Also, this takes place right before Henry leaves to find Emma. Like, literally, about a few hours. Edited, and with cover design, by Nightstar Pheonix. This will probably be a one-shot, though I might continue if I get more ideas.)

Playing Deductions

Henry skipped down the sidewalk, his backpack slung over his shoulders. However, instead of schoolbooks, he had several candy bars stuck at the bottom, and his fairytale book stacked on top. He didn't know how long he'd be gone, but he figured he was prepared. It wasn't like he'd need anything else. Once he found his mom, she'd come back with him and break the curse. Then everyone would be happy… except for the villains, of course, but villains didn't get happy endings. Heroes did. And the heroes needed happy endings.

Henry was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice somebody he was about to run into. He skidded to a stop right before he hit him. "Hi!" he grinned, trying to look inconspicuous.

The tall, dark-haired man looked down at Henry with his cold blue eyes, brushing off his long coat and adjusting his blue scarf. "Running away." he noted in his British baritone.

Henry's smile faltered, and his eyes widened. "Uh… no." he stammered.

"Yes, you are." he pointed at Henry's backpack. "You're carrying the bag rather easily, meaning that it's filled with little items, even though all the other schoolchildren your age have several, heavy schoolbooks, as well as materials to build a birdhouse. You're also heading the opposite direction of the school building."

Henry thought for a second, scanning the man and trying to think of which character in the book he was. "What's your name?" he asked.

"You don't need to know that." the man said. "But I do know that you are the Mayor's son, and I don't need to deduce that fact."

Henry nodded. It wasn't as if Regina kept it a secret that she adopted a child. He sat down on a bench and grabbed his storybook to flip through it. Curious, the man sat next to him. "What is that?" he asked after a few pages.

"A book." Henry stated bluntly. "A fairytale book."

The man pointed to a picture of a couple getting married. "That looks like your teacher."

"It is." Henry told him. "She's Snow White. And that's Prince Charming."

The man nodded. "So you think that Miss Blanchard is secretly Snow White."

"Not just her." Henry informed him. "Everyone here is a fairytale character. Except me, but I'm going to find the person who will break the curse."

"Curse?"

"Everyone here is under a curse." he said conspiratorially. "They can't remember who they are."

The man thought for a bit, a bemused expression on his face. "And our lives here?"

Henry smiled. The man probably didn't believe him, but at least he wasn't calling him crazy. "They're all fake." he said. "My mom, Regina, she's the Evil Queen, from Snow White, who set the curse. Think about it. Can you remember anything of your childhood?"

The man didn't respond. Henry grinned widely. It wasn't often he was taken seriously.

"Which fairytale character am I, then?" he asked.

"I'm trying to remember." Henry flipped through again, towards the end. He hit the back of the book.

The man pointed to some torn page corners. "You did that?"

Henry didn't ask how this was deduced. "You could say that. But I have them in here."

He pulled some pages out of the front pocket of his bag. He felt a little tense showing them to a stranger, but he doubted that he'd just grab them and run off to Regina. Besides, he'd just find a new hiding place later. Towards the end, he stopped. "There!" he pointed at a picture. It did look a lot like the man sitting next to him.

"And that is?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

"That's not a fairytale character."

"Well, neither are Jiminy Cricket or Pongo, and they're here, too."

"Are they?"

Henry nodded. "Yep."

"Sherlock" looked at him, raising his eyebrows. "And how does 'Sherlock Holmes' fit into the story?"

"He doesn't… exactly." Henry paused for a bit, then dove into the explanation he'd found in the book. "You see, when the Queen tried to enact the curse, but failed the first time, it instead opened a portal into your old world. You and a few other people got sucked in before it closed. You wandered around the forest for a bit until the curse actually worked. Nobody here knows who you are, and you know only the people you came with."

"Right then, I'll play along." Sherlock leaned back and crossed his arms. "Who came along with me?"

"John Watson." Henry told him. "He works in the hospital now. Before, he was your assistant. Then there was his wife, Mary. She's pregnant, but nobody knows where she is right now. And then there's–"

He cut off when a woman with a brunette ponytail walked by across the street. Sherlock stared after her, forgetting Henry for a moment. She glanced his way, then walked around the corner.

"That's Molly." Henry smiled. "You like her."

"No, I don't." Sherlock protested coolly.

"But she likes you."

Sherlock disregarded the statement. "And who's she, in your book?"

"She doesn't have another name." Henry told him. "She was from your world, too. And she also worked in a morgue."

"And how did… were the four of us friends?" Sherlock asked.

"John was your best friend." Henry told him. "And you got along pretty well with Mary. And you could say that you were friends with Molly." Henry smiled a smile that said I know better than you do.

Sherlock watched him for a bit and then turned away, smiling slightly. "Right. And you're running away to…"

"Find the person who will break the curse." Henry told him. "Her name's Emma Swan. She's the daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White. She's going to help you all remember your past lives."

"Will that work for us, then?" Sherlock asked. "We weren't from the fairytale world, were we?"

"But you were cursed, so there." Henry crossed his arms and smiled wider.

Sherlock nodded. "And I'm assuming I cannot convince you that this is fake, or that you shouldn't run away."

"Nope." Henry shook his head.

Sherlock shrugged. "Well, then, I suppose you need help leaving town."

"You can't leave." Henry informed him. "If you try to leave, then bad things will happen."

"I never said that I was going to leave." Sherlock said. "I'm a consulting detective, and I'm right in the middle of a case. They've finally allowed me to investigate this 'John Doe' in the hospital, though your mother's not too happy about it. But you'll probably need bus fare for the ride."

Henry slapped his forehead. "Forgot about that."

"You only remembered candy and your book, I'm sure." Sherlock nodded.

"And why would you help me?" Henry avoided Sherlock's question.

"It's been boring lately." Sherlock told him. He handed him a couple dollars. "You bring this 'cursebreaker' to town, and things could get interesting."

Henry smiled. He looked through the ripped pages until he got to the one about Sherlock. "You take this." he said, handing it to his new friend. "It might help you remember. Even if you give it to Regina, it doesn't have any information she might use against us."

"Us?"

"Me and my mom."

Sherlock nodded. "Oh, so the cursebreaker is your mother."

"Yep." Henry nodded.

"And she gave you up for adoption."

Henry avoided looking at him.

"And your schoolteacher is your grandmother. A little strange for you."

"I think it's cool." Henry stood up, deciding to go. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Holmes."

"You could say that." Sherlock nodded.

Henry looked at Sherlock. "You think maybe later you could teach me that thing you do? Where you can figure out stuff about everyone."

"Maybe." Sherlock didn't look in the mood to help anybody. "Now go find your cursebreaker."

"Okay!" Henry ran off, smiling a lot more happily than he had before.

"And don't run into anyone else!" Sherlock yelled after him. After thinking for a moment, he stood up and went in a different direction than one he had intended on going. He stuck the page Henry gave him in his coat pocket on the way there.

"Hello, my name is Adrian Wiggin. I'm here to investigate a coma patient. Would you take me to him?"

The detective watched the volunteer sitting behind the desk in front of him. The short man wore a jumper underneath his white labcoat. He looked up at him, brushing his hand through his graying blonde hair.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Timothy Miles." he stood up, holding out his hand. "Which coma patient are you looking for?"

Adrian didn't answer, but instead looked down at him. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"