Note: Thanks so much for the encouraging reviews. I think I am way over my head trying to write about little children, but your positive response has spurred me on.

Chapter 2- the less fortunate

Sherlock was completely focused on the door of his mother's room as an orderly ran in, so he almost missed when his new acquaintance ducked behind his back.

'Problem?'

John nodded his head, as he tugged fretfully at his sleeve, 'I can't stay here. Everyone knows me. I will get in trouble. Let's go hide. I know a place.'

'I am not leaving mama!' Sherlock cried out, desperately gripping the boy's hand hard; not wanting to lose his bit of company either. Normally, Sherlock didn't like to be bothered by other children, preferring to be alone with his books and chemistry set, but he didn't want to be alone here in this dark corridor!

John's face fell, but he nodded and patted Sherlock's knee, 'S'okay.'

Relieved by this show of solidarity, Sherlock's little heart stopped beating so fast, and he hugged John around his head in a fit of uncharacteristic gratitude. For the first time, Sherlock took a better look at the other boy who had come to his rescue. Curiously, he eyed John's bright orange jersey, and rubbed the strange material of his short trousers between his fingers in fascination.

'John, why do you have a Tyrannosaurus Rex on your chest?'

John squealed in sudden fright and looked down, thinking he had some horrible insect crawling on him. Quickly he pulled out his jersey in front of him, 'where is it?! Hit it off! Hit it off!'

Sherlock slowly pointed at the drawing on the boy's front, beginning to wonder if something was not quite right with his companion.

'That's Barney!' John giggled in relief.

'Who?'

'Barney,' John repeated, 'Don't you know Barney?'

'I do not.'

John looked at him in surprise; clearly wondering what planet Sherlock was from.

'Do you want to swap jerseys?' John said sympathetically. 'I have loads at home. Mum won't mind. She says we must always give to the less for-tu-nate.'

Sherlock looked down at his own neat suit of dark clothes that he always wore, even around the house. He would never dream of wearing something so bright.

'Okay,' he replied, never one to back down from something new, and he began to unbutton his front. Soon the two boys had swapped their clothing and were busy examining the effect. Sherlock craned his dark head to look at his chest, while John poked at the unfamiliar buttons with one finger. Finally, Sherlock decided that the purple dinosaur wasn't so horrible.

Again John ducked behind him with a fearful squeak, as a passing nurse briefly glanced at them in some confusion.

'Where is this hiding place?' Sherlock asked, as he obligingly helped button John up in his dark shirt and roll back the long sleeves.

The sandy haired youth pointed to a door, just down the corridor and Sherlock relented. It wasn't that far and this way he could ensure John stayed with him.

Easily, he jumped down from his seat and then held up both his hands to help John as he wiggled off the plastic chair, bottom first. With a frown of concern, he set the boy on his feet.

'How old are you? Three?'

'I am four and a three quarter!' John cried indignantly with a furrow of his little eyebrows.

'You are very short.'

'I know,' John replied mournfully as he reached up to retrieve the toilet paper, 'I am the smallest in my class.'

'You may have a calcium deficiency.'

John looked up alarmed at the awful sounding news. 'No, I don't!'

'Yes, you do. I am only four and look at me,' Sherlock nodded wisely, 'No, I am quite sure you are a deficient'.

John clasped the roll of toilet paper comfortingly to his chest, understandably distressed to find out that he was a deficient, although he wasn't quite sure what that was. John hoped it didn't hurt too much.

'Don't worry, I know what to do,' Sherlock announced confidently as he walked away, and started pulling on one of the plastic chairs. Sherlock was surprised when John took the other end and started to help, as he wasn't used to anyone assisting him with his schemes.

Together, they placed the chair in front one of the vending machines, and Sherlock athletically scrambled to stand on the seat.

'Sherlock, hurry,' John murmured; scared out of his wits that a grown up would find them, but not willing to run off and desert his new friend.

The dark haired boy shushed him as he studied the controls for a moment, before taking a square of plastic from his pocket and inserting it into a slot. John jumped back in fright, because the second Sherlock depressed one of the brightly lit knobs, the machine started to vibrate and groan loudly.

John gave another little gasp, when a carton of milk tumbled out into the dispensing tray.

'Give it here,' Sherlock commanded imperiously, and obediently John passed it up to the other boy.

Sherlock read the side of the box, 'See here. For strong bones and teeth, that means if you drink it, you will be as big as me in no time at all.'

'How did you do that?!' John asked in awe, as Sherlock opened the milk and pushed it into his hand. 'Make something else fall out!'

Sherlock's chest puffed up in pride at the look of admiration on John's face, and he reached down to give him a pat on the head. He was really starting to like this boy. John listened intently as Sherlock explained what he had done; his eyes shining with interest as he slurped up his milk. Soon another carton of milk fell out, this time a chocolate flavour one!

'Do it again! Do it again!' John cheered appreciatively, quite forgetting himself in his excitement. This time when Sherlock depressed the big plastic knob, a Cola drink tumbled out.

As Sherlock jumped down and scooped up his prize from the tray, John was completely convinced that he was the cleverest boy in England.

'To your health,' Sherlock said in a sober grown up voice, that made the little boy want to laugh.

John stared at the bright red can in delight, when the other boy popped it open with an exciting fizz sound. His mom didn't let him and his sister have those at all, not that it ever stopped Harriet from sneaking one from the pantry and taunting him with it.

'Can I have some?' John asked excitedly, eyeing the forbidden drink.

'No, drink your milk,' Sherlock said curtly as he leisurely sipped his sweet drink, smacking his lips appreciatively.

The two boys held each others hands, and trotted down the hall to the safety of the nurses' office.

Note: Story prompts are welcome!