Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, please forgive the mistakes and the typos.
My first Kid!Lock -this story is dedicated to SammyKatz . Hope this is going to make you smile a little more, honey .
It was a warm mid-June afternoon . The wind was blowing gently, moving the fragile branches of the few birches , and caressing the big oak's leaves . Sherlock Holmes was sitting by himself on the most secluded bench in the park ; a rather large bush was hiding him from the other kids .
" They're so noisy, and predictable, and boring..." he thought, not for the first time, while flipping another page of his favourite book, " Treasure Island " by Robert Louis Stevenson . Oh, what would he give to be Jim Hawkins , fighting buccaneers on an island far away from home...far from his father, always so stern and austere...far from his brother Mycroft and Mummy , who always treated him like a kid .
He was not a kid . He was a very mature seven years old young man , who deserved a little more respect : he was going to be a pirate, for God's sake ! Mummy always encouraged him to behave like a "normal" kid , but he had no interest in chasing a ball in a field, or in using a swing ; if he used the park structures, (very rarely, he might add), it was only because he saw it as a training for when he would sail the Seven Seas . He was not a dull , ordinary kid : he was an extraordinary future pirate .
His considerations were interrupted by the noise of someone playing with the dirt under the bench ; Sherlock saw only then a little girl poking a dead snail with a little branch , just under his dangling feet .
" What are you doing ?" he asked brusquely, and the little girl ( short, probably five years old ; not very refined ,as he could observe from the patches on her jeans and the jam's smear just on her upper lip ) stopped dead in tracks .
" I'm- I'm sorry , I don't want to disturb you" she moved away from him .
Sherlock sighed . " Stop apologising . I find apologies annoying and unnecessary . Just answer my question: what are you doing ?"
" This snail is dead "
" Obviously - then why are you poking it ?"
She hesitated . " I just want to know how it died "
" Why ? "
" Do you always ask "Why" ?"
" Only when the other person is very obtuse or reticent " he retorted .
" Oh..." the girl's interlocutory answer showed him without doubt that she didn't understand his insult . Maybe he could use a different tactic .
" I can help you in your investigation about this mysterious death . I'm very clever , and my observation skills are very advanced " he offered . After all, he was re-reading his book for the third time, and was becoming rather bored .
" Really ?! Th-thank you !" the little girl dropped the little piece of wood and offered him a rather dirty hand . " I'm Molly Hooper "
" Nice to meet you , Molly " Sherlock said , but didn't shake her hand . This didn't seem to hurt her , and she smiled at him . " What's your name ?"
" The name is Sherlock Holmes . Now...shall we begin with the necropsy , Miss Hooper ?"
Let me know what you think, as usual - and as MorbidbyDefault very wisely suggested , leave Sammy a note - I'm sure she will appreciate the gesture . Let's show the world what amazing shippers, and friends, we are !
Author note: now edited in the last sentence, because a kind (but unfortunately anonymous) reviewer pointed out that the correct term to use is necropsy, and not dissection,when speking about an animal autopsy - Thank you, whoever you are!