There was a little place up on the moor called 'Dewer's Hollow', where many people claimed they saw the devil himself, but John Watson, who had lived in Dartmoor his whole life, couldn't believe the rumors were true. Why would the devil come to Dartmoor? It rained for 75% of the year, and the rest of the time it was cloudy and quite unpleasant to look at. Many people said it was because of the Baskerville testing facility that the devil comes out to play, but that was 'absurd and concocted to fool fools' as Mrs. Watson always said when asked about it. In fact, the Grown Up Watsons always seemed to actively try to prove the rumors as false. "Jonathan H. Watson," his dad would say every year, "It's time to embrace the fear and charge at it head on!" and that phrase would kick off their annual father-son camp out in the Hollow; right in the devil's nest. But that year was different. All because John met another little boy who's family was only visiting.

"John?" Mrs. Watson poked her head into the seven-year old's room to find him sitting atop his suitcase and inspecting the butterfly knife his father had given to him the year before. "I though you may be up." She laughed and stepped into the room, placing her hands on her hips. To John, his mother was the epitome of beauty: dirty blond curls, laugh lines around her mouth and eyes, and a little plump because 'all her love is trying to get free', as John would tell her every time she felt down on herself. "Are you excited for your camping trip?"

John bounced on the small suitcase. "Yeah! I'm going to fight the hell hound!" He jumped off his suitcase and flipped open the knife with practiced skill. He jabbed the air, pretending to kill the giant dog rumored to roam the moor, then did a victory dance as the imaginary villain fell at his mercy. "You are safe now, madam." He nodded at his mom, flipping the knife away again.

"My hero!" She cried, swinging John into her arms and planting a kiss on his giggling forehead. "Your father may need a bit of motivation to get up, though." She set him down.

John hit the ground running, bursting into his parents' room and leaping onto the bed. "Dad! We have to go! The Hound awaits us!"

He jumped up and down in the bed, and his dad rolled over and used his big hand to push the kid down and pin him to the bed. "Don't ever wake Dad like that again, John Hamish."

"Sorry." He laughed, trying to get out from under the hand. Mr. Watson released his son, who tore off again down the halls to go find breakfast and his older sister.

When they got into the town center, Dartmoor was up and bustling about. Mr. Watson had stopped at the small convenience store to get water bottles, and left John to stand outside and watch the passersby. Occasionally, a kid from his class would wave at him as they passed with their parent, but overall John was bored. That's when he saw a new face. A boy about his age, crouching in the road, examining a handful of sand and muttering to himself. John slipped away from the shop entrance and went over. "My mum says that if I play in the center of the road, I'll get hit by a car." He crouched next to the boy.

The kid didn't look up, just said in a very high-pitched voice, "I'm not playing."

John nodded in realization of his mistake. "I'm John Watson."

"Sherlock Holmes."

"That's a funny girl's name." John laughed.

Now the kid looked up. "I'm not a girl." His long curls fell back in his face as he returned his attention to the sand.

"Sorry!" John said nervously. The silence stretched out. "So, what are you doing?"

"Examining."

"I've never seen you around here before."

"I live a town over. We're just in for a day visit."

John opened his mouth to ask another question, when Sherlock suddenly stuck his tongue out and licked the handful of sand. John shut his mouth again with a surprised 'snap', and right before he could ask why the strange boy had just licked sand, his father had an arm around him and was pulling him away. "Don't talk to boys like that, Jonathan."

"Why not, Dad?"

"He's a freak." Before John could say that Sherlock wasn't a freak, just examining the sand, his father bumped into an old friend. "Tobias Lestrade! How have you been?"

As his father and his friend conversed, John looked back to the boy in the road only a few short feet away. By now, another boy, a teenager this time, walked over to the one in the street. "Sherlock, Mum says to stop licking sand. You're scaring away her new friend."

Sherlock looked up and over to the woman who was sipping a cup of coffee and giggling with a man. "Tell Mum that that man isn't interested in sleeping with her, just stealing the pearls Dad gave her for Christmas last year, and she should just give up now."

"Sherlock Holmes, shut up. That is our mother and you need to show some respect." The teen snapped.

"What for?" The kid shrugged lazily. "She's the one who brought us on a day trip to meet men to cheat on Dad with."

The teen had had enough, and he picked up Sherlock, slinging him over his shoulder as Sherlock squirmed and struggled, and he stalked away. As they walked out of earshot, John heard the boy shout, "Mycroft, you no longer get to be the first mate on my ship! You're going to be the captain of the flag ship we knick stuff from all the time!"

John was pulled back into his father's conversation. "This must be your son!" Tobias Lestrade said.

"Yes! Say hello, John."

"Hello, sir." John said politely.

"He has your eyes, Dan. And your fearlessness, too. Your dad says you're to spend the night in Dewer's Hollow."

"Yeah! We do it every year."

"Well, good luck. Watch out for the Hound!"

Later that night, John lay awake in the tent, listening to the sounds of the moor. The seven year-old was too excited to sleep, as he always was on this trip. Camping out in the danger of the forest was exhilarating and John lived for the rush. He was just starting to get sleepy listening to the wind in the leaves, when he heard a twig snap outside the tent. He immediately jumped up and grabbed his knife out of his pocket, listening to the forest outside. Another twig snapped, right next to the flap of the tent, and the shadow of another human passed across the makeshift door. John launched himself out the door of the tent and into the intruder, tackling him and sending both spiraling down the hill. John landed on top, straddling the adversary, and brandishing the knife against his throat. "Sherlock?" John asked in surprise.

"Ah yes, you're the kid from earlier. Please get off, your knee is in my kidney." John rolled off and flipped his knife shut. "Thank you." The kid rummaged around in the dark and leaves, until he found his dark blue scarf and wrapped it firmly around his neck, the strip of fabric looking out of place against his jeans and T-shirt. Then, he looked John up and down properly for the first time. "I don't like that you're taller than me."

"What were you doing outside my tent?" John accused.

"I'm looking for the Hound. I'm here to prove it's a fraud." Sherlock pulled a magnifying glass from his pocket and began to scan the leaves.

"Can I help?!" John was excited now. He liked this new friend very much. He was dangerous.

"Sure, you can-" Sherlock stopped cold when he heard a rustling in the bush to their right. The shaking branches got louder and suddenly, a mass of fur flew out of the shrubbery and landed next to them.

John sighed in relief. "It's just a bunny."

The rabbit then sneezed violently and it's whole body lit up in a rush and glowed a bright blue. "Aaaughh!" The two boys jumped and grabbed each other in surprise, causing the luminescent bunny to retreat back into it's bush.

"Bluebell!" Sherlock called, diving into the underbrush after it.

John pushed the branches away and stepped out into the clearing where Sherlock was crouched low, trying to slowly approach the bunny. Every time he took a step, the defiant rabbit took one hop away, causing Sherlock to huff in frustration. "Um, Bluebell?"

Sherlock gave up and went to stand next to John again. "My neighbor, Cassidy, had a rabbit named Bluebell. She asked me a few days to help find her, saying the pet had just plain disappeared in the middle of the night, but not before suddenly glowing blue."

John giggled. "Like a little fairy bunny?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "No." Then he cracked a small smile and looked back the rabbit that was now expertly out of their reach, munching on grass. "But, I'm sure Cassidy will be satisfied to know that Bluebell is safe and happy in the wild." Sherlock adjusted his scarf decidedly, right before a very large snake slithered out into the clearing, unhinged it's jaw, and swallowed Bluebell whole. The snake gave a satisfied little cough, sending a tuft of iridescent blue fur into the air, before slithering away with some difficulty. John was rooted to his spot by shock and horror, his mouth moving, but no sound coming out. "Or... Or we just never mention to Cassidy that we saw Bluebell. Ever." Sherlock murmured.

It took the boys a few minutes to get their bearings again, before Sherlock pulled his magnifying glass out again and began scanning the leaves. John, unsure of what to do, flipped his butterfly knife out again and whispered, "I've got your back in case we find the Hound."

Sherlock smiled, continuing to inspect the ground in the partial darkness. The full moon was shining in patches through the trees, but the fog on the moor was reflecting it, casting the whole hollow in a silver glow. A movement to John's right caused him to spin and brandish the knife in that direction. A large shadow began to step out through the trees lining the clearing. John reached behind him and tapped Sherlock on the back. "Uh... Dude?"

Sherlock turned around and both the small boys found themselves face to face with the Devil's guard dog itself. The Hound was huge, looming over them with glowing red eyes and a set of teeth that seemed to create it's own light. It snapped once at them, and the two boys let a loud yell before running to the other side of the clearing and toward the shelter of the trees. Sherlock tripped on a branch and went down hard into the dirt. John stopped running and turned around, the Hound closing in on them fast. John stepped one leg over Sherlock, bracing himself and creating only one way for the dog to get to the mini detective: through him. The Hound pounced and John brought his knife up in a critical blow between the ribs; right into the dog's heart. It let out a yelp and collapsed to the ground, blood spurting from the hole in it's chest. When the two kids came down off the adrenaline, they realized it was only a very large dog. Just a normal dog. "Awww." A voice across the clearing whined. "You've killed my pet."

John stepped to the side and pulled Sherlock up. The two walked back to the center, to see another boy, about 9, ambling lazily out of the bushes. Sherlock frowned and yelled, "Jim! You could have gotten us killed!"

"Wait, you know him?"

"Of course he knows who I am. But, you," the boy strolled to meet them in the middle, "You're new." He put his hands in his jean pockets. "Jim Moriarty. Hi."

Sherlock crossed his arms. "I hope your mum hears about this."

John was still lost. "How do you know him?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "My mum and his are coworkers. Best friends, even. We've had many a forced play date."

Jim frowned dramatically. "Don't tell you haven't enjoyed our little games, Sherlock."

"You locked me in shed for three hours!"

"That was one time! And only because you said you were bored! I gave you a puzzle to solve."

"How to get out of a locked shed is hardly a puzzle."

John looked between the two, then to the dog. "So, what's all this about? You sick a dog on us, risking our lives?"

"Oooh, Sherly, I like your new pet. Sidekicks are so nice, aren't they? That's why I brought Seb along, too."

A boy of about 10 joined them. "By 'sidekick' and 'pet', I assume you mean it in all the positive senses."

"Of course. It was your dog, after all, Sebastian."

Sebastian looked down to the dog that was still slowly bleeding onto the leaves. "You didn't tell me they would kill Mortimer."

John suddenly lost control. "YOU ALMOST KILLED US!"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Hardly. Mortimer is- was harmless. The worst he would have done was lick inside your mouth. Well, Sherlock, this was a fun excursion, but I must get back to town before Mum discovers I've gone out. Sneaking out just to scare you was tricky. I'm sure we'll meet again, John." And the two young boys strode confidently out of the clearing.

"Well," Sherlock breathed. "That was tedious." Then for some strange reason, John laughed. Sherlock joined him and the two new friends leaned on each other and laughed hysterically. "That was really brave of you. Stabbing that dog like that."

"My dad was in the Royal Navy, he trained me to fight and gave me the knife. I just went with instinct."

They turned and started toward the direction of John's tent. "I like you, John. And I don't like normal people. I think we are friends now."

John laughed again. "If you get us into shenanigans like this on a daily basis, we might just be."