"A chair…" John said, incredulously. "With a person inside?"

"It's a possibility, yes," Sherlock remarked, plucking his phone from John's hand and tossing it aside with a lazy motion. It clunked dully against the table, the sound acting as a sort of period for his sentence.

The afternoon light was beginning to disappear, being replaced by the fuzzy sort of twilight that accompanies the oncoming evening. He gazed out the window, considering his friend's words, and watched as the streetlamps began to buzz and fizzle before lighting up one-by-one in a procession of warm luminescence. Tiny spots he could only assume were moths were already dancing around the bulbs, thoughtlessly courting a burning death.

"If I didn't know you better," John finally responded, leaning back in his chair and staring at his friend dubiously, his grey eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I would think you had knocked back a few…"

"Look at it this way," Sherlock told him, folding his fingers under his chin and staring at John with a focused, unwavering gaze. "If one was to-"

"John!" a sweet voice rang out from the doorway, making both men turn in shock. Well, John did it in shock. Sherlock did it in irritation. "Your door was unlocked! That's bad, y'know!"

"Alberta-Jane?" John called out, slightly distressed by this sudden turn of events. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to visit you and your 'special friend'!" she trilled, running across the room eagerly. "I brought you a present, too!"

"Alberta-Jane…"

"It's AJ. People call me AJ. Here!" she grabbed his hand and thrust a hard, round object into it. It was a small, jet-black rock, about the size of a chicken egg. Spotted with tiny white blotches, it shined cheerily in the lamplight. He rolled it around in his palm briefly, appreciating the smoothness of it, before looking back at the girl. "It's from my collection."

"It's very nice," he commented awkwardly. "Thank you."

"Is this your 'special friend'?" Alberta-Jane inquired, pointing at Sherlock and cocking her head to the side. She looked a bit like a lost, or maybe just confused, puppy, with her floppy pigtails and questioning eyes.

"He's my flatmate, Sherlock," he explained, looking to the other man with a vague feeling of uneasiness. "Sherlock, this is Alberta-Jane. She's Mrs Hudson's niece."

"Interesting stone," Sherlock commented, grabbing the rock from John's hand and inspecting it. "Volcanic glass with cristobalite structures within."

"Obsidian?" John said, slightly surprised.

"Hey! What's this?" AJ asked, walking over with a glass paperweight in her hands. "You sure have some funny stuff in your flat."

"AJ, you can't just go around-" John began, but was swiftly cut off by his friend.

"Artax robusta," Sherlock clarified, waving AJ over with a calm, indifferent expression on his face. The girl complied with his demand without a second thought, clambering on to the couch beside him and showing him the seemingly fascinating object. John shivered slightly at the sight of the large, dark brown spider trapped within the beautiful transparent bubble. He had always hated that paperweight- he may be a war veteran, but he wasn't afraid to admit that spiders made him quite uneasy, even if they were dead. "The Sydney funnel-web spider, although it is actually a tarantula. It is known to be one of the most dangerous arachnids."

"Sherlock," John cut in, rather frantic. "Don't say that kind of thing. You'll scare-"

"Has this one killed anybody?" AJ pressed eagerly, staring up at him intently. Her eyes were full of fascination, hungry to learn from this tall, thin man.

"No. There hasn't been a death attributed to the funnel web spider since 1980," he explained, plucking the item from AJ's palm and turning it over in his hands. "Because of the development of the anti-venom, along with the rareness of bites, there hasn't been a case fatal envenomation for quite some time."

"Envenation?"

"Envenomation. The process of injecting venom into something."

"Envenomation…" she mused to herself quietly. "I bet Aunt Martha doesn't know that word. Once I learn to write I'll be able to use it in Scrabble."

"You can have it, if you'd like," Sherlock offered, handing the item back to her. "I don't use it very often, and you seem to have taken a shine to it."

"Wow!" she breathed, barely able to believe the events that were transpiring before her. With eager hands, she grabbed the paperweight and held it close to her chest, beaming. "You're so nice! No wonder you're John's special friend."

"Just… Just call us 'friends', AJ," John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. No matter how many times he told Mrs Hudson, it was always the same. After all, they had "all types" at Baker Street. "We're just regular friends."

"Alright, but that's sounds a lot more boring," she told him, still staring at her brand-new prize with pleasure. "Being special friends sounds a lot nicer."

"I'm dreading the day you figure out what Mrs Hudson means."

"Can I be your guys' friend too?" AJ inquired. "I like you. You're super nice to me."

"Sure," John smiled at her. "We can be friends."

"That's good! Oh, now that you're my friend…" she climbed onto the arm of the sofa as she spoke, attempting to be at eye height with the man. "You should come over for tea tomorrow!"

"Tea?" Sherlock questioned.

"John is gonna come, an' he said he'd bring biscuits!"

"We're busy tomorrow," Sherlock intoned, looking over to John with narrowed eyes. "We're going to meet with the new client."

"That can't be right…" AJ said, squinting in confusion. "John promised he'd come to tea with me and Aunt Martha."

"Ah…" John let out a small groan, sinking down in his chair and staring at the ceiling a weary expression, obviously displeased with where the conversation was going. He sighed and rubbed his eyes briefly, attempting to collect his thoughts. "I did promise that, but… I'm a grown-up, AJ, and grown-ups have to work."

"Grown-ups aren't supposed to lie, either," the little girl retorted, pursing her lips and glaring at him in an almost comical manner. "You promised you'd come to tea."

"Well, I never said a specific time," he told her, attempting to find a loophole of some sort.

"It's tea! Not 'morning tea' or 'high tea'- just 'tea'!" she snapped, sliding off the couch and marching over to where John sat, a sour expression on her face. "It's s'posed to be a bit after lunch!"

"Afternoon tea is typically between four and six," Sherlock commented, leaning back into the sofa and musing quietly. He thought about the predicament with the same gravity and profound importance as any other thing in his life, as if tomorrow's schedule would be a turning point in his existence and define his future. John was surprised by AJ's effect on the consulting detective, shocked at the fact that his friend was speaking to and regarding this child as an adult. It was an almost magical thing to watch, to see this man talk to the girl in almost the same way he spoke to John. "The meeting with our client will most likely end at two-forty five, giving us ample opportunity to return to the flat. If we managed to fit this time frame, we could show up at your 'tea party' at any time after three-thirty."

"So, you'll come?" AJ probed, staring at the men with bated breath, her body almost vibrating in anticipation. "You'll come to tea with me?"

"Yes," Sherlock nodded in response, gazing out the window at the darkening sky. "We'll be able to make it."

"Fantastic!" she cried out gleefully, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down, her face full of unadulterated joy and jubilation. "It'll be the best tea party you've ever been to!"

John felt a smile creeping across his face as he watched AJ twirl around the room like a tiny tornado, babbling at top speed about the various things she was going to do for them. He couldn't catch many of the words, but her happiness was almost intoxicating. He had forgotten the innocent joy children brought to the world, the infectious disease of gaiety and delight they spread.

"It's getting late, AJ," he finally said, his voice gentle. "Your aunt probably wants you home for supper. I have a feeling she's the type of woman who likes meals to be on time."

"Oh," she stopped, her face falling slightly. "You're right. She gets awful mad if anyone is late to eat."

"Do you want me to take you to your flat?" John offered, getting up from his chair. "We can go down together."

"Okay," AJ smiled up at him, pleased. "And you can save me if I get in trouble."

"Of course," he laughed, taking her tiny, warm hand in his large one and guiding her towards the door. "Do you have everything?"

"Yep!" she held up the paperweight, beaming at the way it sparkled under the lights of the flat. The funnel web spider within it shone menacingly, sharp fangs pointed downwards and dead, beady eyes watching both nothing and everything. John couldn't understand how she liked it, but if it made her happy it was fine. "I have Ronny!"

"Ronny?" They began heading down the stairs, the sound of a newscaster's voice becoming louder with every step. Mrs Hudson had the habit of playing her radio a bit too loud, much to John's chagrin, but it was something he had learned to live with. "Is that what you named him?"

"Uh-huh! I can't wait to show him to Aunt Martha!"

"Oh…" John looked away guiltily, suddenly realizing the inevitable reaction that would come from the landlady. It wasn't his fault, though, he told himself. Sherlock is the one who gave it to her. He rapped on the door with his knuckles, his thoughts still occupied with the future of that spider paperweight.

"Yes?" Mrs Hudson opened the door, wiping her hands on a faded, blue apron. "Oh, John! How nice to see you!"

"We found a little mouse in our apartment," he told her, gesturing to AJ and grinning. "I thought I should return her in time for supper."

"Alberta-Jane, did you wander off again?" the older woman asked the child, frowning in displeasure before looking back to John and smiling gratefully. "Thank you, dear. I apologize if she bothered you."

"It's no trouble. We had fun, right AJ?"

"Yep!" the girl responded. "And he an' Sherlock are coming to tea tomorrow!"

"Yes," he agreed, waving farewell as he began to move back towards the stairs. "We're very excited. Goodbye, Mrs Hudson. Goodbye, AJ. Have a nice evening."

"Wait!" AJ called out suddenly, dashing over to him. "Wait, John!"

"Wh-" he was about to ask what he'd forgotten when the girl launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his torso and hugging him as tightly as her tiny body could.

"Bye-bye, John!" she said, releasing him from her embrace and grinning. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow."

"I'm glad we can be friends," she finished, running back to her aunt and waving goodbye again. "Sherlock, too!"

"I'm glad we can be friends, too," he agreed.