This is a short story about Sherlock socialising with a child. I just wanted to write something cute involving a child... I didn't have this in mind when I started so it might not be the best. But I hope some out there will enjoy it. So please, enjoy!

"Will you play chess with me, sir?"

Now it wasn't every day that anyone would take time to talk with Sherlock Holmes as he was at St Bartholomew. Everyone had learnt their lessons. If one couldn't bring anything useful to Sherlock Holmes one was not worth bothering about. Molly Hooper was the only one at the hospital that still hadn't learnt that lesson. She was also one of the few that was of use for Sherlock, but that is not related to this story.

Now Sherlock Holmes was standing in a hallway with a kid holding a firm grip on his coat. His coat. Sherlock was holding back the urge to rip it out of the kid's hand. That would be plan B.

"Why would I?" he bluntly asked. He was not in a rush and could question the kid. It was obvious he had somewhere to be as he had just been walking fast through the corridor as the kid had seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"Why wouldn't you?" the kid countered.

Suddenly the child was interesting and Sherlock took time to hastily remember him. If only for 24 hours it might be useful. Interesting things used to be useful. About four feet two and having lost one of his front teeth and Sherlock could guess he was around the age of eight. Blonde hair, dark eyes-

"I asked you a question, sir," the kid stated and broke Sherlock's line of thought. The kid was still holding onto the edge of his coat.

"I asked you one first."

"And I answered by asking you a question. Do you have any reason not to play me, sir?" The child tilted his head. Or was it even male? With the patient clothing and semi-short hair it wasn't really possible to tell, not even for Sherlock. One of the reasons he hated those androgynous brats.

"I am a grown up, I have my own business." Sherlock said, slowly getting tired of looking at the kid.

"No one else will play me! They say I always win anyway."

"You don't look that smart."

"Neither do you."

"That's a lie. You wouldn't have asked me otherwise. Perhaps you are that smart."

"Perhaps you would be the only one able to beat me."

And suddenly the child was interesting again. He took a look at the watch, noting that Molly wouldn't have lunch for another twenty minutes. A short match with the child wouldn't be impossible, just to crush his tiny hopes of actually being able to win over Sherlock. The corner of his lips curved into a tiny smile.

"I will do the honour of proving you wrong."

Within a couple of minutes Sherlock found himself sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a patient lounge. The kid was placing the pieces on their places even giving Sherlock the white pieces and thus letting him begin. The kid really thought he had a chance. Sherlock couldn't help but smile in his mind at the naïve kid.

"What's your name?" Sherlock asked. Anyone that knew him would have gasped at such a casual question. The kid just smiled and kept doing what he was doing, as the other patients in the room.

"Victor! What about you, sir?"

"That is not of importance."

"Well, neither are my name but I gave you mine anyway."

"Your mind is not eight."

"How did you know I'm eight?"

"Not hard to figure out. I also know you have a younger sister, you have been in and out of here for about two months because of Wilson's Disease and you wish you had a mobile phone."

"Wow," the kid stopped in his movement and stared at Sherlock with great admiration. "How could you know all that?"

"It's not that hard. You have a hello kitty hairpin but nothing else that would hint that you dare liking something that is not "cool", your skin is pale and slightly yellow telling me that your liver is weak but you also have a Kayser-Fleischer ring in your eyes as well as you move very stiffly so it got to be Wilson's Disease. And the last one is so obvious, just look at your hands. You are so tired of writing letters to your friends, both because you are a kid and of the disease. Oh, wait, not friends but friend, am I right?"

"Wow, again! And yes, you are right. My best friend is really worried about me so I write to him all the time, but he's got his own phone now... My mum says I'll get one when I'm better!"

"If you get better."

Sherlock did not know that correcting that sentence wasn't the best thing to do. Victor got silent and made a gesture at the chessboard. Sherlock began.

It was supposed to be a short game but Molly had both been able to go eat lunch, make a failed attempt at flirting with the guy in the reception, getting back to work, go get coffee and work a bit more when the game was over. It was not at all what Sherlock had been expecting when one of the kings fell over. Luckily it was the black king.

"I give up," Victor said with a smile on his lips.

"You do?" Sherlock looked at the board one more time. He could see an obvious path into slaying his own king and could not see how the kid couldn't see it. He snorted and leaned backwards.

"I had lots of fun! You are a real challenge. I hope to play you again, sir."

"Sherlock."

"What?"

"My name is Sherlock."

He got up from his seat and walked away. He didn't mean to make such a dramatic exit, but that man was very dramatic all the time without knowing it. The child stayed by the table to put back the pieces on the board.

"Calm down!"

As always John had to run in order to keep up with Sherlock and his long steps. It was as if he was walking that way just to make John run. Was this his way of telling John to cut back on the jam? Hopefully not.

"Sherlock!"

But the man wasn't slowing down. Down the streets of London to some place John had no idea where. It had been not even fifteen minutes since they were inside the flat and John was making tea when Sherlock suddenly grabbed him and pulled him out of the flat. Thinking about the tea he never drank made him even more irritated than usual about not knowing where they were heading.

"Will you just wait up and tell me where we are going?"

But the man didn't slow down. That was until John suddenly ran straight into his back. Big and hard, making John even surer about the Jam-theory. Why did he have to be so fit when he had such bad habits?

"Why did you stop?" John asked, trying to keep his mind focused. As Sherlock had rushed here it was probably some important case. But when John looked around he couldn't see anything that seemed related. "Sherlock?"

"John, there's someone I want you to meet."

Suddenly John could see it. In front of a café there was a woman next to a pre-teenage boy who was walking along the sidewalk towards them both. Sherlock started walking towards him and John heard himself gasp as Sherlock picked up the boy in a big hug. The only one Sherlock had ever shown such feelings towards earlier was Mrs. Hudson.

"You look so healthy now!" Sherlock said, actually sounding happy for the boy, as he put him back on the ground. "And I see you finally got your phone."

"Years ago!" the boy said with a smile. "And I see you are not alone anymore."

Sherlock turned around and looked at John with a smile hiding in the corners of his mouth. John was surprised at couldn't help but smile back.

"This is my friend, John Watson."

"And flatmate and colleague," John corrected. "Nice to meet you..." John reached out an arm to shake the boy's hand.

"Victor Wilson, also a friend. We used to play chess when I was sick at the hospital."

"Just a few times."

"If you count eighteen as a few. And I won half of them."

"Then I guess there's time for a nineteenth time."

John looked at Sherlock with a smile that was making it obvious he couldn't believe what he heard. Sherlock snorted and walked past his colleague before he put his hand on Victor's shoulder, walking him back to the woman that must have been his mother. John was mesmerised by seeing Sherlock talking and smiling, looking quite natural doing so. He shook the woman's hand before he opened the door to the café. The woman and the boy walked inside but Sherlock hesitated. He turned towards John with a smile on his face, still looking as natural as was possible for him.

"You coming?"

"Wouldn't miss this for the world."

Please review and tell me what you think! I don't write many Sherlock fanfics so it would really be helpful. If there are any obvious faults with the language then please help me with that too :