A/N: Hello! It's been a while (sorry about that), but it's lovely to see you all again! :) Here is a new instalment, hooray. Anyways, I don't really have much to say about it... but I hope you like it! :)
John held up another flask, examining the clear liquid.
"And this is…"
"Water, it's just water," Sherlock said giggling. He normally would of rolled his eyes or scoffed, but John was just so… funny.
"Oh, right. I knew that," John muttered.
"And this," Sherlock said excitedly, pulling John towards another set up, "is another experiment I'm doing. I'm testing the strength of bones in different animals, depending on different food diets." There were many different little bones scattered all across the table, it seemed almost disorganized, but it you looked, everything was properly labeled and sorted.
"Impressive," John nodded, "What have results shown so far?"
"Well, I've just started, so not much yet, you can see my hypothesis if you'd like though," Sherlock offered, suddenly handing John a paper filled with sharp cursive handwriting, which was much too neat for a six year old.
"Oh, wow. This is only your hypothesis?" John asked, surprised, turning over the page to find the other side just as full.
"Yes, of course," Sherlock said confused, cocking his head to the side, "Why wouldn't it be?"
"Oh, uh, no reason. It's just so… long," John answered, setting it down.
"If it wasn't this long, it would be too short and not enough in depth, and then it would be incomplete."
"Right," John said, pretending to understand. Sherlock responded with a pleased look. "So, why do you do all these experiments?"
Sherlock's face turned sour, "Boredom. Partially because of my interest in science, but mostly to drive out the boredom."
"You get bored often then?"
"Yes," Sherlock said simply, turning his gaze back to his hypothesis and the bones strewn over the tabletop. John still didn't completely understand, but he did not push him.
"Are you bored now?"
Sherlock looked up at him in surprise, "Obviously not, John. I am talking to you; you do not bore me."
John felt a rising feeling of pride. He was one of the few things that did not bore Sherlock. He suddenly felt very special. I mean, really, he had only known the boy for an hour at the most, at this point but he already felt like he was really his nanny.
"Well then, now we've got two hours until your violin lesson," John said, checking his battered watch, "What would you like to do?"
"Oh, well, usually around now if I am not working on my experiments, I would be looking of murder cases," Sherlock said thoughtfully.
"What?" John said dumbfounded. Had he just heard that correctly?
"Murder cases, I look over murder cases," Sherlock pouted, "I don't like repeating myself."
John ignored the last part. "Yes, alright… okay then, murder cases, and what do you do with them exactly?"
"Look over them. I told you, John, I don't like repeating myself. See? You are making me say everything over again." Sherlock crossed his arms, still pouting.
"Yeah, yeah, okay. You don't have to repeat yourself," John reassured. Normally he might have been annoyed at a child speaking to him like that, but Sherlock just was so… He didn't even know. He just couldn't find himself to be angry. "So, when you look over these murder cases, what do you do with them? Just read them or…" He wasn't exactly sure what else you could do with murder cases.
"I inspect currently or past unsolved cases, and solve them. Of course, I'm always right, but the police never listen to me. Mummy doesn't like it when I go to the police, but sometimes they are so thick. I mean the evidence is directly in front of them, but they just don't see it."
"Right then, so how do you solve these cases?" John was still utterly confused, and not quite certain if Sherlock was pulling his leg or not.
"I just examine the evidence they have or most of the time overlooked, and then deduce who the murder is."
"Hold on, how do you get these cases? The newspaper wouldn't have enough information…"
"Easy," Sherlock said satisfied, moving across the room to open a cabinet draw, pulling out what looked like several files. He then plunked them down on the table in front of John.
"Are those real government murder files?" John inquired, picking one up and seeing the big read CLASSIFIED stamp, "How the bloo- I mean, how did you get these?"
"My brother, he's a government official. Well actually, he practically is the British Government. I take these from his office; sometimes he leaves them lying around. I suspect it's because he wants me to take them though… so I don't get bored I mean, because really, sometimes he makes it far too easy."
"Right…" John was only then beginning to understand exactly what a strange child Sherlock was. He already knew he was a genius, but this was… a different kind of strange. Normally six-year-old boys were interested in cars and superheroes, not chemistry and murder. I was a little worrying, but at the same time, it oddly intrigued John.
Sherlock selected one of the files, and opened it, showing John. "Look at this one. Carl Powers, male, age eleven, died last month, apparently of a freak accident. Visiting London for a school trip, he was an athlete for the swimming team. One day he gets in the pool and suddenly begins to thrash violently, a seizure attack. He has absolutely no records of any seizures before and he was an excellent swimmer. He died before anyone could get him out of the water. The police dismissed it as an accident, but it's not, it is murder. I know it is," he said matter-of-factly, and then looked up at John expectantly.
"How do you know that?" he asked. Sherlock shoved the file towards John.
"Look at it, read the case. Really look. What is wrong with this picture?"
After a few minutes of scanning over the file, John just looked up at Sherlock and shook his head. "I don't know."
"Oh, come on, John! Look!" Sherlock said excitedly.
"Sorry, I'm just not as clever as you, Sherlock," John shrugged. Sherlock continued to look at John, waiting. "Oh, just tell me."
"His shoes, John! Where are his shoes? They could never find his shoes! They weren't in the locker room, anywhere near the pool, at his visiting house or anywhere else. His shoes just disappeared! They didn't walk away, so where did they go? It must be a murder, and it has something to do with his shoes! That's why they are missing, the murder must have taken them to hide evidence!"
"Yes, that is peculiar," John mulled, "but that doesn't mean it is murder. Maybe someone stole his shoes, and it just happened to be the day he died. Maybe they were really nice shoes."
Sherlock looked at John disapprovingly, "You sound like the Yard. Of course it was murder, John." He knitted his eyebrows together and then stated, "There are no coincidences when it comes to investigating."
"Alright then, so it's a murder. Who did it? What do we do about it?" John inquired. Sherlock suddenly felt much better when he heard John say 'we'.
"Nothing. I cannot do anything," he said sighing, "No police will listen to me because I am just a child." He pouted. "I cannot investigate it on my own either. One, because I don't have the resources, and two, because Mummy would never allow it."
"Well then, you'll just have to explain it to me then instead. Maybe the police will listen to me," John offered. It was an empty promise, but it made Sherlock smile all the same.
They spent the next hour together, sitting on the floor, files strewn around them, and Sherlock chattering and explaining each case, while John patiently listened. John was still a little weirded out by it all. After all, he was discussing serial killers in length with a six-year-old, but he found himself strangely comfortable with Sherlock and enjoyed listening to him talk so enthusiastically about Carl Powers. It was possibly the most fun Sherlock had had since the first time his brother had taken him to a crime scene.
A/N: Hello, we meet again. If you in any way enjoyed that, reviews are much appreciated (as well as muffins (as long as they are not bran)). Love you all, thank you for all the follows and favourites! Seriously, you guys are awesome. *virtual hug for all* (that is in no way creepy) I should stop talking now...