A/N: Hey there, I'm back with chapter three! Woho! Yeah, well, not much to say about it so... hope you like it! :)

PS: to 'Guest' (whoever you are), this chapter is dedicated to you, for your impeccable timing and support. :P

John anxiously waited in front of the door, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He glanced at his watch, 1:57pm. Three more minutes to go. She had said two o'clock sharp, and that's exactly when he intended to come.

You might be a little confused as to what is happening, let me explain a bit better. John was standing in front of 221B Baker Street, hand hovering over the ringer, waiting for the precise moment the clock stroke two. It was the day after the phone call with Mrs. Holmes, and he was ready to impress. He really wanted this job. John was very excited but also very confused and a little nervous. The only thing he knew was that he was meant to babysit a child, no idea what age, for this very posh family, who were going to pay him a lot to do it. He really didn't know what he was getting into, he didn't even know the child's gender, let alone their name.

He knew he must have looked strange, just standing there at the front step of this house, glancing ever so often at his watch, to passerby's. Some actually stared at him, but he ignored them. All he cared about right now was making a good impression on Mrs. Holmes.

2:00pm, he looked up from his watch, and pushed the button with a polite single, drawn out ring. The door was immediately answered by, what John could only assume was, a butler.

"Hello, you are John Watson, no?" he said, in a completely cliché, movie posh, butler way.

"Uh, yes," John cleared his throat and continued more assertively, "Yes I am."

"Very good, please come in." He gestured for him and stepped aside, for John to enter, which he did, and shut the butler shut the door behind him. "Mrs. Holmes has been expecting you. Right this way."

John followed him through the house, which was, of course, huge and lavish, to a sort of sitting room. It was very clean and white, and had old beauty to it. His eyes were drawn to a admirable black grand piano in the corner of the room, were a small boy sat, his fingers dancing across the keys, playing a very fast, melodic song. Next to the boy was a stern, small woman, and she looked at him as if she was analyzing everything movement he made. John realized that Mrs. Homes was sitting in a tasteful, floral, armchair, watching, who he believed to be, her son. She looked very proud, and John was not surprised. The boy could not be more than five or six, and he was playing like, well, better than anyone John had ever seen, not that he'd really seen many piano players, but either way, it was still quite remarkable. The boy finished his song with a sharp last note, and turned to the woman for validation. She did not smile, or clap, which John was now resisting the urge to do, she only looked at him and tutted. "Sherlock, you made mistakes. I know you can do better than that. Try again."

The boy's, 'Sherlock', what a peculiar name, face fell a bit and he turned back to the piano, huffing a bit, muttering something that John almost heard as, "I did perfectly fine, why do I even need a piano teacher. Incompetent.." but, of course that couldn't be, he was only a child, John was sure he heard wrong. Sherlock's fingers hung above the keys, ready to begin again, but before he could start the lovely tune, the butler cleared his throat, catching everyone's attention.

"Excuse me ma'am, but John Watson is here to see you."

"Yes, of course."

Mrs. Holmes stood, dusted herself off a bit, and walked towards John, hand outstretched. "Hello John, nice to meet you. I say, you do have impeccable timing."

John took her hand and shook it. She had a nice handshake. It was strange to think about, but John always noticed the way people shook hands. She did not grab his too firmly, nor let it loosely flop in his hand, like a dead fish. John hated those handshakes.

He smiled, "Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Holmes."

She returned his grin with a polite one, and turned to the piano. "Mrs. Jameson, I think that will be enough for today."

The woman nodded, standing from her stool next to the piano, and said, "Very well, Sherlock, practice everyday until our next lesson. I expect no mistakes next time. Good day ma'am."

Sherlock ignored her and Mrs. Holmes said goodbye back, then the butler lead Mrs. Jameson away. John watched the woman leave, then when she was out of sight, returned his view to the small boy. He was a very well, for lack of a better word, John could only describe him as 'pretty'. It was strange to think of a little boy as pretty, but it was surprisingly accurate. He was tall for his age, but you could still tell he was six, because of his still small structure. He was skinny, a bit too skinny, but not unhealthy, it did not take away from his appearance. He had very pale skin, which was only expressed more by his dark head of curls. The boy had very beautiful eyes too, they were multicolored, a mixture of a light blueish grey, and a darker, richer blue, with streaks of light brown and bright green. They were possibly the most amazing eyes John had ever seen. Not only were they interesting in color and shape, they were intelligent eyes, the sort were you can just tell someone is clever just by the way they look around a room, you could just see it. He also had a very sharp face, it was strange to see on a young child, but it suited him well, but still, it was strange for a six year old to have such prominent cheekbones. John would of called him cute, but there was a peculiar sense to him, that you could not imagine him as a regular, cutsie, six year old. John could already tell that Sherlock Holmes was not a normal boy. Just, only, then did John realise something else about Sherlock, though. He was giving John a look of absolute distaste and scorn. But why?

"John this is Sherlock, my son. Sherlock, this is John, he is your new babysitter," Mrs. Holmes said patiently.

"I am aware who this is," Sherlock said bitterly.

"Sherlock," she said warningly, then she turned to John, "Now, I will leave him to you, just some information and ground rules. If he says he is not hungry or has eaten recently, he is lying, feed him. Keep an eye on that. Also, if he needs to be punished, refer to me first. He likes to conduct experiments, but make sure he doesn't do anything too hazardous. He has violin practice at five o'clock and his tutor at six. During his violin you are either free to watch, or you can go to the library, until his lesson is over at 5:30pm. Then, at six you may leave, before exiting, you can pick up your payment from me, although it would be preferred if you stay until his bedtime, which is 8 o'clock. Also, don't forget, Sherlock is not allowed anywhere in the west wing of the house and if you encounter any staff, do not let Sherlock order them, nor you. You are in charge, not him, no matter what he says. Isn't that right Sherlock, dear? And, fair warning, he has a knack for getting on peoples nerves, but I'm sure you'll be fine. You got all that?"

John nodded.

"Splendid! Now, if you need me, I'll be in my office," and with that she left, leaving Sherlock and John alone.

Sherlock still sat at the piano, not saying a word, but now with his arms crossed and a sour look on his face. John walked closer to the boy, now standing only a meter away. Sherlock refused to meet his eyes.

"So, Sherlock, what-"

"You are from a family of a single mother and an older sister. You never knew your father, you were only told that he died a noble death in war, you are not sure if it is the truth, but it is what your mother tells you, so you choose to believe it. Because of this, you are driven towards the army, a true patriot, but you have an interest in being a doctor, so you have been considering a career as an army doctor. You have low self-esteem, beginning signs of depression, a struggling mother, working several jobs, and a drunken sibling. You resent yourself for not being able to help more with your family. That is why you took this job. You wanted to impress my mother, so you arrived just on time, early even, but you waited outside, just in case." John looked at the boy, mouth agape and brows furrowed, a dumbfound expression lining his face. "Oh, and also, you ate a late breakfast for lunch, hash browns and ham," he added satisfactorily.

"What- how did- I-" the words just tumbled from his mouth; he was too shocked to form coherent sentences, but finally managed an awed, "Amazing."

Sherlock's cool demeanor faltered, his arms unconsciously uncrossed, turning more towards the older boy, and he looked at John is confusion, almost taken aback at his reaction. "Really?"

"Of course, that's brilliant! How did you know all of that?"

"Well, I simply deduced all of the facts from observations, clearly there, other people just normally don't see them. I call it the science of deduction."

"You're only a bloody, oh sorry, I mean, you're only a kid and you figured all that out by yourself, just by looking at me? How could you possibly think that isn't amazing?" John blurted.

"Well, it's just not how people really react to me... It's not what people normally say…"

"What do they say then?" John inquired, curiously. How could anyone think this anything short of genius?

"Go away."

"Well, that isn't very nice," John said.

"It isn't?"

"Sherlock, people should realize that that was completely amazing," he paused, "Did your mother say that you conduct experiments?"

"Yes," he answered simply.

"What kind of experiments?"

"I like chemistry. I most experiment with materials, but Mummy won't let me use any of the actually interesting stuff. Apparently, I am too young to use hydrochloric acid, or even pure potassium," he whined a little.

"You… you cannot be, wait, how old are you?"

"Six," he said proudly, puffing up his chest.

"This is ridiculous," John said shaking his head.

"What?" Sherlock demanded, affronted.

"You can't only be six! You're a, well, you're a proper genius!" John exclaimed.

Sherlock's cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink and he said "Um, thank you. No one has ever said that to me."

John knelt down, so that he and Sherlock were at eye level, and used his tone that he used when talking to small children, when they accomplished something, most of the time not very impressive, and praised them for it, that very proud voice, but this time he really meant it. This was incredible. "Really? That is ridiculous. I don't even know any people my age how are as smart as you."

Sherlock's eyes brightened and a small smile played on his lips, but then he looked down, fiddling with his thumbs. "Would you like to see my lab?"

A/N: And there it is, you're welcome. :P Just kidding. But in all seriousness, thanks all of you guys for all the support. :) You guys are cool. I reward you with 5 bonus awesome points. Anywho, if you liked it then please leave a review, for each review you get 10 awesome points! And if you didn't like it, then I suppose you could still review if you really wanted to... But that is not the point, the point is that I will update soon, so be looking out for that! (Sorry, I'm in a strange mood :P or at least I was... internet man, it's a time machine)