Sherlock sat in the garden, crying. His father had told him that he was an unacceptable, disappointing child and not to even bother trying to be like Mycroft. He'd run out into the garden and was now playing in the dirt, though to be more accurate he was pushing it around with his fingers. He hated them all. Mycroft, the superior one, who was always so smug and so smothering. Dad, who always put him down, comparing him to his brother. Mom, who never once sang anyone's praises or did anything nice. Even Matilda was ignoring him today.

"Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I'll go eat worms," he sang softly. He couldn't continue the song because of how useless he felt. Maybe he should run away from home. He really wanted a different family.

POOF

Sherlock looked up, and the most extraordinary thing was happening. Two people with tiny bodies and very large heads were floating just above him. He was so surprised that he stopped crying. His bright eyes were taking in all the information he possibly could about them. Their hair were strange colours. They had wings. They also demonstrated their ability to hold things without holding things when they spoke.

"I'm Cosmo!"

"I'm Wanda!"

"And we're your FAIRY GODPARENTS!"

Hundreds of miles away, another sad, lonely little boy was also making new friends. Well, not quite friends, as the beings of chaos that had just appeared to him were busy trying to keep Jim Moriarty from pulling off their wings. Once they'd gone just out of range, Anticosmo peered at his charge through his monocle and said simply:

"We're here to make sure you don't suffer."

Jim grinned. "Burn Mr. Hammond's house down."

And up in flames it went.

For the next two years, Sherlock spent his time with his fairies more than anyone else, having adventures, visiting the magic place called Fairy World, until one day he said the words that break the heart of every fairy godparent.
"I don't need you anymore."

He found himself to be happier than he ever had been, but it didn't make sense to be friends with fairies any longer. Along with losing his fairies, he lost his memories of them, too, and it all faded to a dream.

Sherlock cried himself to sleep that night for the first time in years.

Just as Jim prepared to issue the final command, his antifairies vanished. The memory of them lingered long enough that he swore vengeance on whoever had robbed him of his partners in crime. Anticosmo left a note with two words on it. Sherlock Holmes.

From that point on, Jim hated Sherlock, though he never could figure out why. All that mattered was revenge.