A/N: Hello! Look it's early just as I said might happen! Cause I feel like being nice. Also I just felt like it. Enjoy, and keep letting me know what you think of it so far :)

Sherlock was free. Free from lessons. Free from rain. And finally he could go back outside again. Mr. Richards had to leave early, it was only two, on a wednesday. And Mrs. Holmes had allowed her son to go outside. It was sunny for once. The field had mostly dried from the last few days of downpour and wetness in general. In the forest, the trees' leaves sparkled with the last few drops of rain that still rested on their reds and greens of fall. Sherlock spent his precious time slowly. He walked steadily, knowing he would get to the edge of the forest eventually, and he wanted to savor this glorious moment of freedom that he hadn't had in a while. Four days did seem like a long time to an eight-year-old.

Sherlock did finally come to the edge of the forest, and he walked out into the field for the second time. He didn't bother with ducking behind the leaves this time, John already knew about him, and he didn't have to hide out in observation anymore. From across the gravel road in the small yard of the other house, Sherlock could see John juggling his football with expert skills. The eight-year-old stood in the middle of the field, still for the longest time, mesmerized by John's moves. When the boy in the jumper finally let the ball drop to the ground again (today he had on a white jumper with black stripes across it horizontally), Sherlock called out his name. Softly at first, having to find his voice after remaining quiet for so long. Then once more, louder, and just enough for John to turn his head and see Sherlock across the field. The blonde gave a hesitant wave, then bent down and picked his ball up, running across the road to meet Sherlock on the other side.

When the older boy caught up to where Sherlock stood, he shifted the ball to one arm so it rested between his forearm and his torso, his elbow sticking out to the side for him to able to do so.

"Hello," He greeted, giving a soft smile.

"Hey," Sherlock nodded in return. He stood there slightly awkwardly, having nothing with him. His gaze wandered briefly to John's ball, noticing how it was beat up and worn, the outside layer coming off in some parts, and the colour no longer new, but darker with a slight brown tint to it from obvious years of dirt and use. He wondered why John didn't just get a new one. His curiosity couldn't keep him from asking.

"Why don't you just get a new ball? That one's all worn out as it is," he commented, before going silent after realizing how stupid and ignorant, and possibly rude it had sounded.

John just shrugged from in front of him.

"Don't know, don't want to, I guess," He returned. Sherlock shrugged as well. He stood there in silence and brief thought.

"Want to play in the forest?" the eight-year-old asked.

"What shall we play?" John questioned, raising one eyebrow in question.

"I don't know," Sherlock shrugged. He wasn't even going to suggest the idea of pirates. John probably didn't want to. It was a childish idea, just like Mycroft had said.

"Well, we could go on an adventure. How much of the woods have you explored?" John asked him.

"Only the way from my house and back,"

"Then lets go to that side," John pointed through the trees. "Across the field. I don't go into the woods there much, so it'll be new for both of us,"

"Alright," Sherlock agreed with a grin. "What shall we be? Just adventurers?" He asked. It was only fun if you had some imagination in it.

John shrugged. "I don't know, what kinds of people go on adventures? I was going to say we could be in combat. You know, fighting and defending from some enemy territory."

"Well, explorers, mapping out new territory. Or survivors of a plane wreck. And sometimes..." Sherlock started, he couldn't help himself from bringing it up after all.

"Sometimes, what?" John asked for him to finish.

"Sometimes pirates go on adventures too, searching for treasure and things. Exploring islands."

"What if we combined all three. Exploring pirates, survivors of a boat wreck. There was a mighty storm, it snapped their ship in half. They just managed to get away on their lifeboat, but only a few survived to find land." John told the simple story with suspense and emphasis. Sherlock grinned.

"You're really good with words, and you know, telling stories," he commented. "But alright, I like that idea. And we can fight off some natives or something, to add in the combat idea," John nodded.

"Alright then, shall we head off?" Sherlock nodded and John led the way to the edge of the trees. He crouched down in the bushes, peering over the top of the leaves, then motioned for Sherlock to do the same beside him. "This is the tricky part. We must pass over that expanse of land over yonder, without being seen by anyone who might lurk amongst the land further inland," he motioned to the field in front of him, then the road with his house across from it.

Sherlock nodded. "I say we sprint for it,"

John agreed. "On my signal," he held up a hand. "Three. Two. One-" The two boys burst out of the bushes, running hard across the grass. The light from the sun in this open aired area was considerably blinding compared to where they had just come from, the darkened forest region. But they didn't bring a hand up to shield their eyes. They both knew the blindness would only last a couple didn't dare look behind them, or to either side. All that mattered was getting from point A, the forest, to point B, the opposite woods across the field.

Both boys ran side by side, their strides of fairly equal length. They crashed into the darkened area of the forest once more, coming to a abrupt halt before bending down to catch their breath.

"Excellent, I do say," John made out through panting breathes. Sherlock could only nod quickly, himself trying to steady his short ones. His heart pounded from within his chest cavity, and in his ears, blood rushing from his head to his toes and back up. The adrenaline stayed within him for the longest time. This was the thrill of adventuring.

"Alright, so we made it." He told John. "And I'm captain Sherlock of the Black Elm. Your can be my co-captain, or a first mate," he explained. Now that they had completed their first task, they needed to establish their positions.

"I'll be first mate," John volunteered, "of the...what did you call it?"

"The Black Elm, it's my ship,"

"Alright, of the Black Elm. She was broken in the storm then. most died amongst the crashing waves and thundering rain. All the rest of our crew didn't survive the perilous journey on the lifeboats. That leaves you and me left. The captain and first mate, the only survivors."

"Excellent," Sherlock agreed.

The boys spent the entirety of the afternoon playing their game. Sherlock was glad John had agreed to pirates. And it was a sort of compromise between their many ideas. And, adding Johns suggestion of war, they fought many battles throughout the day. Ravaging natives, getting kidnapped and escaping from civilized groups of men and explorers. They spent most of the day in the woods, not going too much farther from the clearing into the field. Then they had spent a good deal in the field itself, clashing swords imagined from sticks against imaginary enemy ones, and each other's just for fun.

They were currently playing at the edge of the forest, the one that led to Sherlocks house. They had been out for a couple hours, and Sherlock figured it would start to get a little darker soon. They had finished their pirate adventure and were currently hanging around the creek bank. Sherlock was playing with a stick in the water while John sat on a rock a few feet away.

"Alright, so you moved here from London," John concluded as they conversed.

"Yeah, my fathers job had us move out here." Sherlock mumbled, still unhappy about it.

"What is it like? The city, I mean." John asked, looking up to Sherlock since he was sitting and the eight-year-old was standing.

"Well, it's not secluded, in the middle of nowhere, like you are here. There's lots of people, busy streets, cars, cabs, buses, you know." Sherlock went on to explain. "There's a lot of brick buildings. Oh and the square, Trafalger square with its big fountain and then the lions statues. It's really cool actually. You should visit London sometime. I think you would like it."

John nodded and his lips formed into a smile at Sherlocks description. "Yeah, maybe I will." There was a few moments of silence between the two as they were each lost in their own thoughts.

"Where do you go to school?" Sherlock asked abruptly. "There isn't one for miles, and well, I was just curious,"

"Actually, I'm homeschooled," John told him openly. "By my mum, always have been."

"Really? I have a tutor, well, I do now. I didn't used to back in London, my brother and I went to public school." He paused in thought again. "If you don't go to school, who do you play with? No one else lives around for miles." Sherlock exclaimed.

"Well, I play out by myself quiet a lot. Sometimes my sister will play with me."

"You have a sister?"

"Yep, Harriet. Well, she goes by Harry."

"Is she older than you?"

John nodded.

"I have a brother, older as well. Mycroft,"

John smiled. "You and your brother have interesting names. Well, just, different. I like it," he added after seeing Sherlocks scowl.

A voice was heard shouting from across the field. From the house beside the road.

John looked up quickly, then glanced to Sherlock.

"That'll be my mum." He explained. "She'll be wanting me in for supper, I'd better go," he stood up and brushed his trousers off with his hands.

Sherlock turned towards him. "Oh, alright, I guess. Come out again tomorrow, yeah?" He asked.

"Sure," John gave him a grin. "See you tomorrow, Sherlock."

"Same. Goodbye John,"

John gave a wave of his hand before turning and rushing off out of the forest and across the field back to his house. Sherlock didn't wait to watch him go, simply turned away towards his own home, running back towards it through the trees.

"You boys remember the lesson from last time?" Mr. Richards and the two Holmes boys were seated in their usual tutoring positions. Sherlock and Mycroft sat in the wooden chairs of the dining room, Mr. Richards across from them.

"It was about observation," Sherlock volunteered the information. Mycroft looked between his brother and the tutor, glad Sherlock could actually remember it.

"Yes, and," Mr Richards prompted the eight-year-old for more information. The tutor knew that a Mycroft understood fine. He wanted to know if Sherlock had caught on. "what about observation?"

The younger boy sat there for a moment, searching through his head for all he information he had been given previously. "Paying attention," he replied. "to what you see,"

"Precisely," Mr. Richards praised. "Paying attention to what you see, or observe." Sherlock shifted in his seat out of fidgeting. "Now, there's a second part we'll talk about today. It goes along with what I said before, what I said last time."

He paused for effect, making sure the boys would be paying attention when he said this part. "After you master the concept of 'paying attention' to what you see, sometimes in order to put this idea into use you must learn a different part first. Not only is paying attention important, but sometimes in order to do this, you must know what you're looking for, ahead of time, and plan your observations around this pre-thought out knowledge.

"Example, back to my bag. Say when we are meeting, you know you will observe my person, and pay attention to what you see to learn about me. But specifically, what is it you are trying to learn?"

"Who you are?" Mycroft suggested.

"Yes, but that can be quite broad of a subject." Mr. Richards turned to the younger boy. "Sherlock, any ideas?"

"Maybe...a name?" He guessed.

"Well, that is important, but not what you would probably look for right away. What good is a name, without a face? Or in this scenario, without a story to go to that face or appearance?" There was a moment of silence as both boys recognized it as a rhetorical question.

"Think of what you were wondering when we met," Mr. Richards directed the clue towards a sherlock, seeing as he had asked it.

Sherlock sat there giving thought to it. Suddenly he had it.

"A job... An occupation!" he answered excitedly.

"Yes. Exactly. Or, to fit in any case, a persons role in society." Both the boys nodded before the tutor continued. "So, you know what you are looking for. And when your subject, in this case, myself, walks in, you don't need to stop or hesitate to think, and plan out what it is you are looking for in your observation. You can go immediately to the facts important to answer your overall question before going on to complete what it is you don't know, or aren't going to know at the start.

"Once you know what you are looking for, you must establish this beforehand, then you can actively search for it."