Sherlock Holmes watched from his perch on the roof as the couple left the house. They were in their early to mid-forties. From what he could see, they had been married for over a decade.

"He's too old for that sort of thing. When I was his age, I never spent time with little kids." The man's voice was loud and annoying.

"Yes, dear, but he's only being a good older brother."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the dull conversation. The pixie fluttered next to him.

"Ready to go, Molly?" he asked. She nodded. "Good, me too."

They flew into the open window and landed softly on the floor. "You search over there," he whispered, pointing to the right side of the bedroom. "I'll begin over here."

Sherlock crawled on the carpet, searching under the cabinet. "It's not here! Any luck, Molly?" Her bell-like voice told him that she hadn't found it either. He stood and she flew to his side. "Maybe if we check the drawers..." He opened one and the pixie flew inside. The room was suddenly filled with light. Sherlock slammed the drawer shut, freezing as he looked to his left. A boy was staring at him from his bed, his hand by his lamp.

"Who are you?" he asked quietly.

"Sherlock Holmes." The boy's mouth dropped.

"Are you really?"

"Yes."

"Wow," the boy whispered in awe.

"And who are you?" Sherlock asked.

"My name's John Watson," he said as he climbed out of the covers. "You're really him."

Sherlock smiled. "Surprised?"

"Yes, actually," said John, walking to Sherlock. "I was told that you didn't exist."

"But here I am."

"Yes, here you are." John was now standing in front of Sherlock. His pyjamas were a size too big, making him appear small, but the way he held himself told Sherlock that he was a fighter. "You look younger than I imagined."

"Really?" asked Sherlock. "Why's that?"

"You're incredibly smart, so I guess that's why I thought you'd be older. How old are you?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know."

"I've been like this forever. I don't grow up!"

"Lucky. You look like you're fourteen."

"Nobody ages in Neverland," Sherlock paused. "You're about fourteen too, am I correct?"
"Yes, that's something that we have in common. Wait, what are you doing here?"

"Oh!" Sherlock had completely forgotten. "Well, last time I was here-"

"You've been here before?" John interrupted.

"Yes, I sit on the roof outside your window."

"Why do you do that?"
"I like to listen to you tell stories."

John smiled. "The stories about you."

"Yes, though they're fantasy, they're actually quite nice to listen to. I noticed that you added a character to them."

The blond boy blushed. "Well, my brothers wanted me to be somebody, and I didn't exactly want to be a villain, so I put myself in the story."

"Fascinating. I lost my scarf," Sherlock said bluntly. He scanned John's face and was surprised when it had a look of recognition.

"Is it blue?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I saw my mum with it a few nights ago. Why didn't you come back for it then?"

"I tried," Sherlock confessed, "but your window was locked, and your dog kept barking at me whenever I tried to open it."

"That's Mrs. Hudson," explained John. "Her bed's downstairs, so she must have seen you from one of the windows down there."

"She's very protective of you. Anyways, where's my scarf?"

"I'll get it," John said as he moved to the cabinet. He rested his hand upon one of the drawers. "I think it was this one."

He pulled the knob and leaped back with a yelp as Molly flew at his face. Sherock couldn't help but laugh at the scene. "Molly, no, that's enough, Molly- John knows where my scarf is!"

The pixie's eyes widened before turning into a glare. She flew back to the drawer, and, with some difficulty, pulled out the scarf.

"Is that a pixie?" John asked, returning to the cabinet.

"Yes, this is Molly Hooper," Sherlock gestured to the pixie. "Molly, this is John..."

"Watson," finished John.

"Right! Molly, meet John Watson!" Molly crossed her arms and turned her head away from him. "Oh come on, Molly, I didn't forget about you!"

"Is she alright?" John asked.

"She'll be fine. I think she's jealous."

At this Molly yanked one of his curls before flying to the other side of the bedroom.

"I'm sorry," said John.

Sherlock looked up. "For what?"

"For making your pixie mad."

"She's not my pixie. We just sort of wander around together. She may stop whenever she wants and leave me."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"No, why should it?"

"That just sounds lonely."

"It is what it is, John." An idea flashed into Sherlock's head. "Say, why don't you come with me?"

"What?"

"To Neverland!"

"You're joking."

"C'mon, it will be an adventure! Didn't you say that you wanted to have adventures?"

"You heard that?"

"Yes, of course, your window was open. I heard everything."

"Look, I don't know if I should-"

"It could be dangerous..."

A grin broke out on John's face. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Take me to Neverland."