And like that Sherlock took to the streets, walking among the cobblestone and giggling as the bird repositioned itself on his shoulder, so as to look at all the hustle and bustle of the marketplace. Sherlock smiled at it, happy to have some sort of companion, feeling quite high and mighty with his pockets full of coins and his shoulder perching one of mother nature's beautiful creatures. He would talk to the bird occasionally; ask it if it was comfortable. Of course the bird wouldn't chirp back, it only whistled and sang when they got close to stands that appealed it, like the bread stand with all the excess crumbs on the ground. Some people looked at Sherlock quite oddly, some thought he was disgusting for keeping such a creature on his shoulders, others thought he was mad for talking to himself simply because the bird was hidden from their view by his curls. Either way he didn't mind, he had something of a reputation among the market and certainly madness was a common accusation. And so what if he really was mad, what did that matter? He was quite sure that his accusers were just jealous that they didn't have their own bird friend. Suddenly the bird began to sing quite loudly, and Sherlock looked around so as to figure out what have caused its delight. There was no bread around, and yet something caught his own eye that made him want to whistle as well. There was a quick nervous scuttle in his own brain as he caught sight of John Watson; he wasn't sure if he should approach him or if he should let John notice him first. The answer was easy, of course, for he knew that John had already seen him. He was looking too intently at the fish stand, which everyone knew was a horrid stand to linger next to for long, and yet the boy was staring so unwaveringly at the tuna that there was no way he was actually interested. He was biding his time, waiting for Sherlock to turn away so that he could casually approach him. Sherlock, therefore, made it easy for him. He started over through the crowds under the many canvases that hung to block the radiant sun, excusing himself in the mess of women's skirts and men's canes to go up towards the fish stand himself. John didn't seem to notice him coming, for he was certainly very dedicated to his fish fallacy, and so Sherlock walked right up to him and grabbed the hat off of his head in a playful sort of manner.
"Hey, wait, thief..." John's words were cut off when he turned to see Sherlock smiling cheerfully at him, holding the hat upside down so as to make it easier to reach into. "You." John murmured, his eyes glazing over in momentary delight.
"Me." Sherlock agreed with a grin. "Now Mr. Watson there surely is no need for you to buy a fish, you've been carrying one all along you know."
"If you think I'm going to reach into that hat and pull out a disgusting fish then you're surely mistaken." John corrected with a little teasing smile, grabbing his hat back and turning it over once more, so as to let any fish fall onto the ground before he placed it on his head. Sherlock pretended to look taken aback, touching his fingers very gently to his heart so as to look troubled.
"Why I'm insulted, my cousin is a fish and I do not appreciate you calling them disgusting." Sherlock insisted with a frown.
"Well that explains the smell then." John said with a teasing smile, placing his hat rather reluctantly on his head. For a moment Sherlock was tempted to make a fish fall from the hat onto his head, however he thought better of it because he surely couldn't bring a live fish into a market, what would he do with it then? And to make a dead one appear right next to the fish stand would be considered robbery, and that certainly wasn't appreciated. All in all it was better that he did nothing, for as soon as he considered snapping his fingers and making that insolent boy suffer John's eyes turned instead to the bird that was now perching in his curls, making itself comfortable as it dug its cute little talons into Sherlock's scalp.
"Is that a bird?" John wondered.
"Friend of mine." Sherlock agreed, bending his head lower so that John could see the bird more closely.
"You're friends with a bird?" John clarified with a wondrous laugh.
"Well as of this morning it seems that I am." Sherlock agreed with a sigh. It wasn't as if the bird was doing anything bad; however it was that ever looming fear of being pooped on that made Sherlock rather reluctant to let the thing perch in his hair.
"That's an interesting companion." John decided with a smile. Sherlock hummed in agreement, starting along the market and motioning for John to follow him. The boy did as instructed, scampering along so as to walk at Sherlock's side with some sort of skip in his step, as if walking with Sherlock was an honor he thought he'd never have.
"Not many other companions in this world, and so I settled with the bird. It seems to like me." Sherlock admitted with a shrug. "Not all that curious really."
"You don't have any friends?" John asked suddenly, almost as if he found that hard to believe.
"Well now I have one." Sherlock corrected, pointing towards his head proudly.
"The bird doesn't count." John insisted.
"You just hurt its feelings." Sherlock protested, to which John just laughed once more, unaware that Sherlock was actually being serious.
"I never did get your name." John pointed out.
"I imagine that's because I never gave it to you." Sherlock agreed with a shrug, continuing on through the market in a carefree sort of trance.
"Well do you mind giving it to me then, that way I at least know what to call you." John said hopefully. Sherlock smiled, shrugging as if that was quite an offer to fulfil.
"Mr. Watson I'm not sure if I can trust you with that information, so important, so secretive. Why there are probably only two or three people who know my real name." Sherlock said with a mystical laugh.
"You're not serious?" John clarified with a laugh. Sherlock shrugged with a sort of laugh, looking about himself in boredom.
"Well actually I think I am serious, like I said, I don't have many friends." Sherlock admitted.
"Your name then?" John wondered finally.
"Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock admitted with a little smile.
"That's an interesting name." John decided after a moment's thought, almost as if he was trying to figure out how to start a conversation from such a thing.
"Yes it is, but then again I'm an interesting person. Fitting then." Sherlock agreed with a grin. John smiled right back, smiling that same smile that irritated Sherlock so much when it was out of his grasp.
"Fitting." He agreed. Sherlock hummed in agreement, tearing his eyes away from his newfound companion and searching throughout the stands for his lunch, suddenly remembering that he was here to eat, not to socialize.
"Why don't I buy you lunch, that is what you're here for ya?" John offered.
"Oh no, no please don't do that, surely I'm not your burden. Besides I made quite enough to get myself a good enough lunch." Sherlock assured quickly, however John seemed to have his mind set.
"I insist Sherlock, please. That's what friends do is it not?" John wondered, smiling up at Sherlock once more before walking over to some sort of lunch wagon and ordering the two of them very nice looking mozzarella and tomato sandwiches. Sherlock was too taken aback by the word friend that he had forgotten to decline the offer, and very soon he found himself sitting on a park bench near the edge of the market, watching the passerby as he ate with John by his side. It was a very odd experience, made even more peculiar by the feeling of the bird nestling deeper into his hair, and a couple of times Sherlock looked over at John so as to make sure he was really there and not some sort of weird figment of his imagination.
"Thank you John, it's very kind of you to buy me lunch." Sherlock said rather timidly, not used to thanking people and not used to getting any sort of charity from near strangers. Of course they dropped coins into his tin; however there was something much more personal in buying lunch, for it was more effort and it was a lot more thoughtful. Everyone could give a penny, but to give a sandwich was something different entirely.
"It's the least I can do Sherlock." John assured as he kept his eyes fixed on his sandwich, almost as if he was more fascinated with it than with his new friend.
"For what? I haven't done anything, and as much as I appreciate it I'm certainly not going about looking for charity..."
"It's not charity, it's friendship." John assured in an almost timid sort of way, as if he was somewhat ashamed of saying such a thing to a boy he had met on the streets only yesterday.
"Friendship." Sherlock murmured, clarifying to himself the word that he thought might never pass his lips.
"Unless you don't want it to be." John assured quickly, jumping as he realized that he might be coming on too strong here.
"No of course, of course I'd want you as my friend. Like I said, I don't have many." Sherlock assured quickly, glancing over at John and smiling, nervous that he might have some tomato in his teeth.
"Well I make two. Me and that bird there." John decided, nodding up to the bird with an approving glance. It shuffled about on Sherlock's head, almost as if it knew it was being recognized, and Sherlock couldn't help but smile.
"I've been thinking about you." Sherlock admitted finally, looking over to John once more, who suddenly looked a little bit uncomfortable. "Is that not a good thing to say?" Sherlock clarified nervously, to which John just shrugged with an almost pitiful smile on his face.
"Well I mean it's not exactly normal, but it's flattering all the same." He admitted with a smile. Sherlock nodded, clearing his throat with an apologetic smile. Evidently his lack of social skills was becoming evident.
"Sorry." He murmured nervously. John simply laughed, pulling a couple of crumbs from the crust of his bread and lifting it up to tempt the bird with.
"It's fine Sherlock, quite fine." He assured. The bird got up from Sherlock's head and hopped down fearlessly onto John's head, pecking at the crumbs in his palm thankfully.
"Have you named it yet?" John wondered, watching the bird with a smile. Sherlock shook his head, watching the bird as well, transfixed as it pecked the crumbs from the wrinkles in John's palm, looking quite tame as it hopped about.
"No, we only just got acquainted and I thought that maybe he would leave soon. I thought it best not to get attached." Sherlock admitted. John nodded, studying the bird's brown feathers curiously. It was a simple thing, nothing too flashy nor colorful about it, however it had enough birdy personality to make up for its unattractiveness.
"I think you should name it, it's obviously not going anywhere." John suggested.
"What do you think a proper name would be?" Sherlock wondered, now suddenly watching John instead of the bird, watching as the boy's brown eyes studied the bird in fascination. Sherlock felt as if he was unable to tear his eyes away, and it was odd yes of course, however it was almost irresistible to stare at the boy when he wasn't looking, he was so naturally beautiful that Sherlock could hardly help himself.
"Well I don't know, you're a magician, might it be funny to name it something like Merlin or something?" John suggested with a shrug, finally raising his glance to meet Sherlock's, finding him staring intensely at him and smiling almost timidly. Sherlock cleared his throat, looking at the bird and wondering if it really looked quite like a Merlin. It was a rather stupid name, almost boarding on something that might incriminate Sherlock should ever that pesky inspector come around again. However if it was what John deemed fit then it must be good, and Sherlock found himself nodding as he pretended to study the bird and not the way John's fingers curled about it, so gently.
"That's a good name." Sherlock agreed in an almost weak voice. John nodded, lifting his now bread free hand back up to Sherlock's head so as to let it perch back in his hair. Sherlock giggled a bit childishly, however the bird tickled as it got situated.
"Well I hate to say it Sherlock, but I really must be going. I'm on break you see, my tutor will be waiting for my return." John admitted with a smile, getting from his feet and brushing off his clothing of any lose crumbs and pulling on his jacket so as to straighten out any wrinkles that might appear in the fabric.
"Yes, yes of course, I'm sorry to stall you." Sherlock said suddenly, getting to his feet as well yet not nearly as glamorously. "Are you in university?" he wondered curiously, noticing that John really should be of that age and yet he had mentioned a tutor instead.
"Oh no, no we have private lessons for my sister and I." John admitted. "It's more personalized that way."
"Wow, that's very...expensive." Sherlock muttered in awe. John just shrugged as if he was trying to be modest about it; however there really was no skirting around the obvious fact that yes that would cost a fortune.
"My Father's pretty well off, he's a judge here." John admitted with a smile.
"A judge! Well that explains it then, certainly. Do you really think it's good to be seen then, out and about with street trash?" Sherlock wondered in a cautious voice. John's cheeks turned quite red, almost as if that comment insulted him for some reason, and he stared at Sherlock as it to make sure he wasn't joking around.
"What a horrible thing to say about yourself! You're a brilliant performer, and it would seem you're a very decent person as well. I don't think anyone would care that I'm talking with you." John assured quickly. Sherlock smiled to himself quietly, half tempted to make some sort of joke before deciding that maybe now wasn't the time. John had paid him a complement, and it would seem that he valued the feeling such praise gave him more than the satisfaction of cracking a joke once more. He could make John laugh anytime he wanted, why did it have to be now?
"Ah well, nevertheless it might be considered odd to see the Judge's son with a boy wearing a bird as a hat." Sherlock pointed out with a little grin.
"Odd, but not scandalous." John assured. Sherlock nodded, looking about the market as if suddenly noticing he should be at work. John seemed to be in the same predicament, for he was expected at his house for tutoring, and yet neither could think of the proper way to say goodbye, not yet at least.
"Well I guess this is goodbye." John said finally, figuring out quite the method to excuse himself. Sherlock nodded rather gravely at the ground, clearing his throat so as to give himself more time to think on what to say.
"Yes, for today." Sherlock agreed. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow; where I can turn you into a rabbit or something."
"Oh how incredibly tempting. Well until then Sherlock, I suppose we'll just have to live on in each other's thoughts." John teased. Sherlock nodded, looking almost reluctant to smile at something such as that since he didn't know if it was a joke or not.
"Well yes, until then." He agreed, and with that he bowed his head in something of a farewell. John misunderstood, however, and simply pat the little bird goodbye, seeing as it was now much more reachable. And like that he was gone, bidding Sherlock one last farewell before starting off through the crowd. Sherlock stood rather lonely in the crowd; however he still had one last trick up his sleeve. He turned and caught sight of John's hat bobbling away through the numerous heads that wandered the marketplace, and with a little smirk Sherlock snapped his fingers, hearing a little screech from through the crowd as John found something a bit fishy had just fallen on top of his head. Well, that was what he got for being so nice, free dinner. Sherlock continued on in the opposite direction of John, smiling as Merlin chirped up on his head, smiling for a reason he simply couldn't understand. Smiling maybe just because of John Watson. He was a reasonable enough excuse, after all. Sherlock was in something of a good mood for the rest of the day, and his tricks and laughs were certainly good evidence of that. Maybe it was John's kindness, or maybe just his presence, however Sherlock was feeling very light hearted and jovial, and so he put it to his work and displayed a great number of tricks. Sherlock was entertaining a large crowd, for his shouting and the applause had attracted quite some attention, and he was now enlarging a man's nose for all the crowd to enjoy. The man of course did not find it very funny at all, and as he was chasing Sherlock about the middle of the crowd, cursing him and insisting that he turn his face back to normal. However every time he cried out Sherlock snapped his fingers and another part of his face grew odd, his ears suddenly sagged down to his elbows, his hair stood up straight as if each little hair had been attached to a string that pulling it to the sky, and his lips began to bulge, making his cries almost impossible to understand. In the end the poor man was close to tears, however the entire crowd was laughing so hard they were also in tears, and so Sherlock could only laugh and pluck another victim from the inner circle of the crowd to pick on as well. Of course there was no harm in any of this, it was simply tricks that were meant only to jest, however in the end he had about three grown men with anger in their eyes, humiliated beyond comprehension and about ready to permanently deform the street magician. And so Sherlock very hastily turned them all back to normal with a snap of his fingers, laughing apologetically and taking a large bow as the crowd all rushed to drop money into the tin. However his playthings weren't entertained, and certainly their pocketbooks were closed as they sulked off with a growl. Sherlock was just about to grab for his tin when he noticed that someone had not left, his original victim, a very broad looking man in his forties or so, looking quite livid despite his almost normal appearance. 

"May I help you?" Sherlock wondered, pretending to not know who this man was for the sake of whatever horrible joke he was beginning to play.
"How dare you humiliate me in front of a crowd, don't you know who I am?" the man challenged, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt so that the fabric didn't tear when he began to throw punches. Sherlock suddenly began to feel nervous, for he couldn't use his magic without the presence of a crowd, it would look odd. Sherlock was defenseless to protect himself from this large man, who was slowly starting to edge his way forward, flexing his muscles beneath his dress shirt warningly.
"Now, let's not get too hasty, the boy was just having some fun." insisted the accordion player in front of him, stepping up without his large instrument and standing just a little bit taller than the threatening man. Sherlock gave a whimper of thanks and skirted into the tent, carrying his tin of money protectively and cowering inside of the fabric. He heard a bit more talking before finally the sound of a fist hitting something, most likely a face, and the thinner more disproportionate silhouette of the accordion player fell to the ground with a thud. Sherlock sighed heavily, well so much for his defender. Before the attacker could get into the tent, however, there was the shrill cry of a police whistle and suddenly someone came running, the shape of a man with a police hat, which was of course much worse than getting beaten to a pulp by a man who was angry about a trick gone too far. The police could of course do much worse to him should the man make a testimony, for depending on what inspector was at the mouth of his tent they might take the accusations seriously. There were some in the police force that certainly weren't Sherlock's biggest fan.