Sherlock looked at the azaleas he was standing in. They looked just fine to him! "But! My! I didn't-"
But it was too late. Mycroft had already gone inside. Sherlock huffed and flopped to the ground. He looked at Bear.
"Oh Bear," he said. "I do not think I will ever understand him. I understand many things, but I do not understand him."
Just then, a big moving van barreled down the road. This piqued Sherlock's curiosity. Hardly anyone moved into this neighbourhood! Sherlock took off running after the van, hat flying off his head, but Bear still tightly in his grip. Curiosity always got the better of Sherlock.
Sherlock found that the van stopped at the smallest house on the street. He wondered who would ever want to live in such a tiny place! A little car pulled into the driveway behind the van. The car stopped, and, from it, emerged a man, a woman, and a little boy. Sherlock could tell by the way that they dressed that they were normal middle-class people of sensible taste. The boy looked about his age. He was the same height as Sherlock, but he was slightly tan and had neat brown hair.
Before he could be noticed, Sherlock hid behind a tree, and spied on the family. Inside the van was sensible furniture. Normal family, normal income, normal everything. Sherlock stayed there for a while, silently watching the moving men go in and out of the house, and the woman, presumably the mother, give orders, and the man, presumably the husband and father, give alternate orders, and the little boy following around, trying to help. Sherlock didn't see why the boy tried to help; he was so small and so insignificant. Sherlock shuffled a little. Suddenly, the boy turned around and looked straight at him.
"Hey you!" the boy shouted. Sherlock's heart stopped beating for a split second. "Hey I see you over there!"
Sherlock turned to run, but the boy continued shouting. "Hey! No! Don't go!" The boy ran to Sherlock, who shyly hid behind the tree.
"Why are you hiding?" the boy asked. "I'm not scary or big and mean."
"People don't much like me," Sherlock replied softly. He peeked around the trunk.
"You have a teddy?" the boy asked. "Aren't you a little old for that?"
Sherlock blushed madly. "I- he's my only friend," he mumbled.
The boy frowned. "You're weird."
"I know."
"My name is Gregory Lestrade. What's yours?"
"Sherlock Holmes," he replied softly.
"Why were you watching us, Sherlock? That's a funny name, by the way."
"W-well, not many people ever move in down here. Most of the families have been living here for a very long time. There are a lot of old people in this neighbourhood."
"Old people are weird too!" said Gregory. "But I don't mind when people are weird. At least they aren't boring. Our new house is the smallest one on this street, but it's a lot bigger than our old one. How old are you?"
"Seven and a half. You don't mind weird people?"
"Nope. I think they're pretty cool, and they have funny stories to tell."
"I'm so weird that people don't like me," Sherlock said, hiding his face behind the trunk again.
"You can't be that bad!" Gregory retorted.
"I'm so bad and so weird that I don't have any friends. I think it's because I'm so much smarter than them."
"Well, I'll be your friend!" piped up Gregory. "Come meet Mum and Dad!"
Sherlock nodded, a little confused, and followed Gregory inside the house, which was much smaller than the old Holmes mansion. So much smaller that it even lacked an entire floor! They first met Gregory's mother, who was nice-looking, although not as pretty as Sherlock's own mother, but he didn't say anything.
"Mum, this is Sherlock! He's seven just like me!" Gregory practically shouted, his voice carrying through the half-empty home.
She shushed him, and turned to Sherlock. "Hello there, Sherlock! My name is Mrs. Lestrade! That is a pretty teddy. What is his name?"
Sherlock was pleased that she could tell that Bear was a boy. "I call him Bear, ma'am," he said softly.
"Well! Nice and simple, then. You must be a simple boy then."
Sherlock smiled and didn't say anything.
"Your eyes are the prettiest green!" she added.
Sherlock smiled and thanked her. Then Gregory took him to meet his father.
"DAD, DAD, DAD, HEY DAD. COME MEET SHERLOCK!" Gregory hollered across the house.
"Another imaginary friend, Greg?" a man's voice yelled back.
"PRETTY SURE HE'S REAL, DAD."
Greg found his father. Greg looked a lot like him. "Hey squirt!" Mr. Lestrade greeted his son. "You must be Sherlock!" he added, turning to one and the same.
Sherlock nodded. "Yes sir. Sherock Holmes, age seven and a half."
Mr. Lestrade chuckled. "Well hello, Sherlock Holmes. Do you live down the street?"
"Yessir."
"Well, feel free to stop on by any time you want!"
Sherlock felt very excited. Without saying good-bye, he took off running for home, Bear tight in his hand. He reached home, snatched up his pirate hat, and stormed inside the mansion, yelling, "Mummy! Mummy! Guess what! Guess what!"
Mrs. Holmes shouted back from somewhere, "Sorry, dear, I am very busy right now! Maybe later."
So Sherlock took off up a flight of stairs to his bedroom, sat on his bed, pirate hat perched atop his wild curls, and talked excitedly to Bear about having another friend, a real friend. This was the best day of Sherlock's life!