Bang! "John!"
Bang! "John!"
John Watson, eight years old with sandy blond hair, set down his army action figures, leaving Army Doctor Watson in charge. He trudged to the front door and opened it, revealing another eight year old boy, this one with curly, dark hair and a few inches on John.
"John! It's time for an investigation." The boy had on a long black coat that dragged on the ground and a too big deer stalker that fell down over his eye brows. "Mrs. Laken's new feather boa is missing and we need to find it for her."
"But, Sherlock, I was playing," John pouted.
The curly haired boy pushed the cap out of his face and crossed his arms. "Johnny, we have to help her. It's our job!"
John crossed his arms, too. "We're little kids; we don't have jobs!"
Sherlock dropped his arms to his sides. "Please? I can't do this by myself!" There were tears coming to his eyes.
John sighed. "Okay. Let's go."
He grinned. "Yay! Go get your jumper."
"But, Sherlock! The jumper doesn't fit."
"Go get it and meet me here," the other boy said, refusing to hear John's protests.
A few minutes later, John appeared at the door again, this time wearing a too-big jumper whose sleeves dragged on the ground. He pushed the sleeves up to his wrists and pulled the door shut behind him. Sherlock grabbed his hand and pulled John down the street.
"First we talk to the victim. Then we look for clues. Then we solve the case."
John stumbled after him, looking around at the neighbourhood. There was Sherlock's house with Mycroft studying in the front room. And there was Harriett, John's older sister, at her girlfriend's house. They were kissing and it was gross. Kissing is super gross.
"John!" Sherlock said, interrupting his thoughts. "Pay attention. We're at Mrs. Laken's house." Sherlock knocked on the big oak door that stood before them.
The door opened to reveal a elderly, but remarkably beautiful and spry, woman. "Oh! Sherlock, John. Hello boys. Come on in." Mrs. Laken let them in and led them into the sitting room.
"Mrs. Laken, where was the last place you saw your boa?" the detective-minded child asked.
"Oh, right to business, then. It was in my closet with the rest of my dancing clothes."
"And when was the last time you saw it?"
"Yesterday some of the girls in the neighbourhood came over to play dress up. They were using it. I went to clean up the clothes this morning and I couldn't find it."
"Okay, that's all my questions."
Mrs. Laken smiled. "Can I get you boys some lemonade?"
Sherlock looked over at John, who was staring about absently and not paying much attention. He frowned at John and looked back to their client. "Yes, please."
After she left the room, he turned back to John. "John, what are you looking at?"
"The mirror. It's so shiny."
Sherlock frowned again. "What is wrong with you? Why are you so strange? There is nothing even remotely interesting about that mirror."
John looked down at his hands, nervously. "I don't know. I just like the mirror."
Sherlock's gaze softened and he put a hand on John's shoulder. "Did I do it again? I didn't mean to."
John sniffed. "Sometimes you say mean things. It hurts my feelings, Sherly." John leaned his head on the other boy's shoulder.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around John. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
The boys sat in silence for a moment before Mrs. Laken walked in with their lemonade. "Here you boys go."
They sat quietly, Sherlock's arm still around John's shoulders, and drank the lemonade. When they finished, the taller boy thanked her and pulled John up and out the door.
"Now we need to talk to the girls." Sherlock pulled John quickly along the street.
"But, Sherlock, I want some juice."
Sherlock stopped and turned to him. "John, we need to solve this case. Plus we just had lemonade."
John crossed his arms. "Lemonade is not the same thing as juice."
"We'll get juice after we talk to the girls,okay? Mummy just bought some apple juice; isn't that your favourite?"
John's eyes lit up as he nodded and they continued up the front walk of a small house. Sherlock knocked and the door was answered by a young girl with pretty blonde hair.
"Suzy, we're looking for Mrs. Laken's new feather boa. Do you have it?" Sherlock demanded as soon as the door was fully open.
Suzy shook her head. "No, we put the feather boas back in her closet."
He looked at her skeptically. "Mrs. Laken said she had to clean up the clothes because you left them out."
Suzy frowned at him and put her hands on her hips. "Listen, Sherlock Holmes, I'm telling you that we put the boas away. We left the dresses and skirts out because we didn't have time to clean them up. Don't you look at me like that."
Sherlock gave her one last look and turned away, back toward Mrs. Laken's house. "John, the juice will have to wait. I know where the boa is." He ran off toward the house, with John hurrying to keep up.
"Oh, hello again boys," Mrs. Laken said, opening the door after Sherlock knocked.
"We know where the boa is!" Sherlock said, as Mrs. Laken stepped aside to let them in. "May we look in your closet?"
She nodded and led them upstairs. John sat on the bed while Sherlock searched through the closet. A few minutes later, he stood up, triumphantly held up the boa. "It was in your closet already, hidden behind that box."
Mrs. Laken smiled and took the boa from him, wrapping it around her neck. "Oh! Wonderful! Thank you, boys. I will be wearing this dancing tonight."
She showed them out with another thank you. Sherlock led John over to his house for a celebratory cup of apple juice.
"Well done, John. Couldn't have solved it without you."