Of couse, the little five year-old did not want to sleep. He thought it was great fun to be staying over at my house, and, try as they might, Watson and Wiggins could not persuade, threaten, or force the child to stay in bed and sleep. Wiggins was becoming exhausted and I could sense his frustration. Watson decided to take over.

He grabbed one of the stories he had published with accounts of our adventures. He choose the first case we'd undertaken together. He told the story with lots of detail and even tried to mimic my voice. I was listening from the doorway, watching as young John's eyes filled with wonder as Watson told him about meeting me and the writing on the wall and the murder. It was not a normal bedtime story, but neither Wiggins nor his wife seemed to mind. We had all read it before, with the exception of the boy, but somehow that night Watson captured our complete attention as he told the story out loud.

Watson concluded and the boy was beginning to nod off. We turned to leave quietly when I heard him call for Watson. I turned to see Watson getting a big hug from the sleepy child.

I noticed the tears in Watson's eyes as the child whispered. "You're the best."

MrsPencil gave me the idea to write a really long story and keep it going by passing it off to my kids and so on. Well, I don't think I could start something like that, but this idea came to me because of that.