A/N: Sorry, I realise I haven't posted anything in ages, but after I got back from my week away from civilisation, my teachers took it upon themselves to drown us in homework :/ thanks.

Anyways, this is my first attempt at a kid!lock, hope you like it! :D

John needed a job.

You might think that this is because he could be a thirty year old, still living at his parents' house, but no it is much more than that. John needed a job because he felt guilty, so guilty. His mother, single with two children, was balancing three different jobs, which consisted of waitressing, organizing files and cleaning, and John did nothing. Well, actually he did a lot, and his mother loved him everyday for it. He always sorted out his sister when she was completely pissed, unconscious on the floor, covered in her own vomit, which no 16 year old boy should have to do. He also was his mother's rock, her support; he kept her afloat. But for John it was never enough, he always felt like he didn't do enough; he should do more, help more. His mother almost never slept while he just went to school, like any normal teenager, and he hated it. So, to help his mother he decided to get a job.

He could easily get a job at a McDonalds or Dominoes or some other fast food chain restaurant, and really he wouldn't mind the repetitive menial work, he didn't think himself above that, he really didn't. He would have taken any job really, but the thing was that they didn't pay much, at all. He needed something a bit more, for his family. He considered babysitting because he was good with kids, but it wasn't like that paid much either.

He never told his mother of course, though. She would tell him it was all right, that she had it under control, and that she didn't want him to worry or have to do that for her. However, it was not for her. It was, in John's mind, somehow warped to be selfish. He just wanted to stop the guilt that clawed at the back of his mind every minute of every day.

But that wasn't true, not really, it was for her, for her and Harry, always; of course the guilt part was true, and that too was also out of selflessness, but John constantly found ways to blame himself, hate himself. He really shouldn't either, because everyone who met John knew, as you will find out, that John was someone that you simply cannot hate. He was kind, loyal, selfless, generous, modest, protective, funny, likable, genuine, and all-round a good person. He did not think so though.

He thought himself ordinary, absolutely ordinary and not special in anyway, not important. But we all know that no one is unimportant, and especially not John Hamish Watson.

Mrs. Holmes was beginning to get desperate. She had hired over twenty nannies and babysitters in one month alone. Normally they would quit after the first day, very few determined ones lasted two. Sherlock took in upon himself to make it some kind of competition, his record five minutes. Literally within the first five minutes of meeting him, the poor girl had been reduced to tears and left.

To clarify, Sherlock was Mrs. Holmes son, and a very difficult person to deal with. He was smarter than anyone you'd ever meet in your life and of course pointed it out every so often (a lot). Oh yes, did I mention he was six? Yes little Sherlock Holmes was a boy genius at the age of six.

He was like no other person you'd meet. At the mere age of two he was already speaking coherently, in fact he spoke more coherently than most adults you will meet. At four he corrected his schoolteacher on several occasions, for example on the first day of school she said, "You're doing so good!" to a boy who had made a truly atrocious rendering of a dog made from macaroni, to which Sherlock said, "You're doing so well, not good. Honestly, you call your self a teacher. These morons are already illiterate enough as it is, don't encourage it."

At first the teacher was too shocked to respond, but Sherlock was eventually sent home for inappropriate behavior. He had been in school for less than two hours. Mrs. Holmes might have been proud of her sons early development and superior intelligence, but she was just tired, so tired. When Sherlock's older brother, Mycroft, was young he appeared to be a normal child, a bit uncaring and cold, but at a normal mental growth, until of course he was tested and shown to also have a ridiculously high IQ. Though Sherlock and Mycroft were similar in many ways, they were mostly very different children. At an early age Mycroft knew he was smarter than the other kids, but was smart enough to know that if he wished not to be isolated, that he should act like them, and he did, but even more than that he manipulated them, all the time, constantly, but they were too stupid to know. Sherlock however was too smart and too proud to act the same. He never hid his talents and didn't mind solitude, or so he said. He had no friends, no one liked him, and it broke his mother's heart. She knew he was hard to handle, but she also knew, no matter how difficult, how rude, or hard an exterior he formed around him, or what a cynical outlook he had, he, deep down, was a wonderful person, and always had been.

Mr. Holmes was never home, he always had business trips. Morocco, Paris, Berlin, Hong Kong, London, Washington, you name it, Mr. Holmes was there. Mrs. Holmes was left to deal with Sherlock, well along with several staff members. Did I forget to tell you? Yes, the Holmes family is very wealthy, and very powerful. But that hardly mattered when it came to finding Sherlock a babysitter, because no matter how much money Mrs. Holmes would throw at them, they would always quit. Sherlock would make sure they quit. He despised nannies.

Mrs. Holmes finally gave up, swallowed her pride, and put down her virtues that had been engraved in her mind from a young age, and put an ad in the paper. She was horrified at the prospect originally, but now she had no other option, that's how desperate she had become. Hopefully, hopefully some one would pick it up and call, and they would be the one that could finally handle Sherlock, the one that could finally care for him.

John couldn't believe his luck. He was just picking up the morning paper when he accidentally dropped it. Well, that wasn't very lucky because the papers were now strewn everywhere on the ground, but we'll get to the good part in a bit. Anyway, John groaned, and muttered as he bent down to collect the papers, when suddenly something caught his eye.

Holmes Residence in Search of A Nannie.

Willing to pay up to 80 pounds for each working day.

Number listed bellow.

John stared at it for a moment. 80 pounds? A day? That was ridiculous! In fact it was so ridiculous that he thought he might take it.

He ripped the ad out of the paper and stuffed it in his pocket, and then proceeded to throw the rest of it away, it was too late to read it now. You might be surprised that John had a newspaper at all, now that I think of it. As most teenagers would not and do not read the daily paper, but as we've already learned, John is not most teenagers.

Back to the story, John stuffed the crumpled mess into the already over packed bin and grabbed bag, rushing out the door, while stuffing some toast down his throat.

A/N: I also realise that that is a strange ending, but I felt bad for not uploading anything in a long time, so as soon as I finished correcting what I wrote so far, I uploaded it. :P

Next chapter up soon, please tell me what you think about it so far, in the reviews :D it really helps.