Drops of rain trickled down the window as John placed another toy soldier on the sill. These were his favorite: British WWI soldiers from his dad. He had planned to make tiny trenches in his sandbox in the back garden and start a war against Napoleon's army. Much to his disappointment, it began to pour the minute he got home. So instead he settled in displaying each and every one of his plastic soldiers around his room. It was oddly thrilling to see the little figures standing proud with their fellow soldiers. It would be neat if they could really come to life and battle. He just hoped Mum wouldn't make him clean them up when she got home from work.

"JAAAAAAAAAWN!" Harry hollered from downstairs. "A weird boy is here to see you!"

John frowned and raced to the top of the stairs. "Mum said to not answer the door!" He yelled back. Harry was a sixth year now, so she was "officially in charge" whenever her mother wasn't home. So far she was not the greatest rule-follower.

"He says it's urgent!" Her voice drifted from the front hall, "And he won't shut up!"

John's curiosity pulled him down the stairs and around the corner. Standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face was none other than Sherlock Holmes. His untidy uniform was soaked with rain, and his pitch curls were pasted to his forehead.

"Thank god!" The boy sighed when he saw John, "Tell your stupid sister to let me in! I'm wet!"

"Wow, John, where'd ya find this kid?" Harry snorted. "He's a real genius."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but John blurted out, "Be quiet, Harry. This is my friend Sherlock, and he is the smartest boy I've ever met!"

Both Sherlock and Harry looked at him with astonishment. John felt his cheeks heat up.

Harry's mouth parted into a rare sincere smile. "Okay, he can come in," she said. "Go upstairs, though. I'm watching a new Doctor Who."

John pouted. "But I wanna watch, too!"

"It's another weeping angels episode," she flashed him a devilish grin. "And you remember what happened last episode..."

"Fine we'll go upstairs!" John exclaimed quickly, beckoning Sherlock to follow him.

They slowly climbed the stairs as Sherlock meticulously studied the family photos on the wall. He suddenly halted on the last step.

"This is your father," Sherlock stated, pointing to a smiling man in a photograph. A three-year-old John was perched on his shoulders, his tiny fingers clutching the man's curly brown hair.

"Yep," John said, even though it wasn't really a question. "We were at the zoo. He liked the elephants. I liked the lions."

Sherlock nodded, but his expression was blank. "So... You went to Africa?"

John laughed, but immediately silenced when he realized Sherlock was serious.

"No," John bit his lip. "A zoo is where they keep animals from other places. Then people come and watch them."

"That's it?" Sherlock scoffed, "Sounds boring."

"I dunno," John shrugged. "I had a good time."

John tried to see his room through Sherlock's eyes. Baby blue walls he's had since he was a baby. Camouflage sheets on a tiny twin bed. An old wooden wardrobe in one corner. A big bin of Legos in the other. Toy trucks and cars strewn across the red rug. And finally, the plastic soldiers on display all around the room.

John grimaced. It seemed so childish compared to Sherlock's mature intelligence. He fully expected his friend to laugh and tease him.

Much to his suprise, Sherlock's face lit up with excitement. "You have so many toys!" He grinned, his eyes hungrily taking in the room.

"Not really," John blushed. "Everyone has toys."

"I don't," Sherlock said sadly, then his face brightened. "But I have a dog!"

"Lucky!" John gave him a friendly smile, "Mum's allergic, so I can't have pets."

Sherlock nodded and looked down at his feet. An awkward silence settled between the boys. John struggled to find something to say.

"So what are you doing here?" John asked. It was a fair question. It was a little strange for a boy he just met to find his house.

"I was in the neighborhood," Sherlock said, his stoic character returning. "I need to talk to you about something urgent."

"Um, do your parents know you're here?" John asked nervously.

"My brother knows," Sherlock replied nonchalantly. "He probably followed me here. Don't be surprised if he shows up when I'm gone and interrogates you."

John didn't know what 'interrogate' meant, but it didn't sound good. "Oh... Okay." He gulped. "What's so important that you needed to come to my house?"

Sherlock's grey eyes twinkled mischievously. "A storm is coming, John," He said ominously. "And I need you on my team."

"What? Why me?"

"I need a soldier, and you're the bravest one I know."

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'Ello! Golly, I'm so sorry you had to wait a month for this teeny chapter! -_-'
I promise I will update more! It's either this or the next school play, and my prospects are low on the latter. So I'll keep writin'! Please vote if you liked it and comment if you want to make my day! Thank you, fabulous fans!<3 ~Meg