A.N. Today's prompt comes from Stutley Constable: A-tisket. A-tasket. A green and yellow basket. I've twisted things (as in Kid!lock and kid!John together, and anticipating of a decade the use of the rhyme) but I hope that's forgivable. :-)
Sherlock didn't want to. Going to the park to play with all his 'friends' (not that he'd call them as such) didn't seem all that fun. But John had insisted, and as always the brunet had eventually cawed in. He could never resist John's gentle cajoling.
So here they were, with Philip (an idiot), Tobias (a peacock), Greg (...decent), Stanley (annoying), Violet, Mary, Sally (girls...ugh) and to cut it short, practicially every other kid in the neighbourood.
When they could have been experimenting on Mycroft's things - and hopefully destroying one or two. Didn't John want to become a doctor? Experimenting would have been better for him.
John *had * experimented with him many times, though, and today the weather was so good it would be really a pity to stay inside, and the other kids could not exactly be Sherlock's friends but they were all John's friends and Sherlock couldn't hog John all to himself (so said Mycroft, who only for that deserved to have his things destroyed).
As a consequence, here at the park they were, all in a stupid circle, singing, "A-tisket. A-tasket. A green and yellow basket," with everything that followed. Then John had left the circle, let his handkerchief fall to the ground and sprinted away. Before anyone else could think to do so, Sherlock had picked it up and given chase. Even with his longer legs, catching John wasn't quick or easy, but Sherlock absolutely loved the thrill of chasing someone – better yet if it was his friend.
When he caught John, panting and exhilarated, he didn't kiss him. Even if by the rules he could have. But kissing was inane, and the rules said he could extract information if he wanted, too, and the raven haired boy would always pick knowledge over everything else. "So? Who do you like, John?" he queried.
"You of course!" John replied with the widest grin.
Sherlock blinked. And then blinked some more. He was pretty certain that the point of the game was to ascertain what girl one liked. Boys liked girls and girls boys right? Could boys even like other boys? Wouldn't someone get angry at John for doing things wrong? He didn't want John to get scolded. Or mocked.
But John was laughing at his friend's befuddled face, and explained, "I mean, I don't think that I like-like anyone – not in the kissing way – just yet. And you're my best friend, so of course I like you best, Sherlock."
"Oh," the other breathed in relief. Nobody would get angry at John for that. The raven haired boy grinned back. "I like you too best of all." Definitely.
"I know," John replied cheekily. "Let's get back. You've caught me,s so you're it next." And John couldn't catch him. It was against the rules. He risked being kissed. Or interrogated. He didn't even know what was worse. Sherlock hated playing with everyone.