Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. No really, I don't. Google it while I cry in the corner.

In an attic in a house in suburban London, there's a box on a dusty shelf labelled 'John's Stuff' in slanting, drunken scrawl. Inside, there lies all the treasures of a childhood well spent. Photographs and Beano comics, old sports posters and an Action Man. There's even an ancient, deflated soccer ball. Most notably however, is at the bottom of the box.

Wedged between a battered Rubick's cube and an rusty Danger Mouse tin lunchbox, there is a single sheet of paper. Tenderly folded and cared for, with the heading by a child's hand: 'John's Bucket List', in faded 2B pencil.

The list contains all sorts of crazy ideas, like 'I will play checkers with my Dad on Mars!' and 'When I grow up I will have the best moustache ever!'

But there are some good ideas too - 'I want to help people just like Superman!' and 'I'll never, ever be mean to people because of what other people say.'

The very best one is in the middle of the page, underlined years later by a medical student's biro: 'I'm going to have loads of great adventures with loads of great friends!'

Decades pass, and an old man called John will find this list with it's crazy ideas. And for a moment he'll smile, and remember fondly a life spent brilliantly.

A/N: Dedicated to the ladies in Mrs Hudson's Kitchen as a sorry for being away for so long.