Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, Sherlock, or the Red Hood and the Outlaws

Sherlock's POV

A small, bald child sits on an interesting throne in front of us. He is smoking from a long pipe similar to the one that caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland used. I remember when my mother made Mycroft and me watch that movie; it was dreadful.

The boy looks up at the two of us smugly, jewelry on his ankle, belt, and around his throat in a blue necklace. "Oh, hey," the boy says, sounding way more intelligent than someone who appears to be his age should be. "Didn't see you there."

"Did we come at a bad time?" Jo- Jason asks.

"John, who is this boy?" I whisper to him.

"His name is S'aru. He is the protector. Don't be fooled by his boyish demeanor, Sherlock, he's over four millennia old," Jason whispers back to me.

"I am never fooled, Jason," I say.

"Considering I managed to trick you for a while into thinking I was 'John Watson', I think that sometimes you can be fooled," Jason says.

I glare at him.

He glares back, giving me that bone-chilling look.

"Where did you learn that?"

"Batman," Jason ripostes, turning back to the boy, S'aru.

"You realize we would not have gotten this far if-" Jason starts.

"If the All Caste hadn't bee slain by the same Untitled that walked past me a half hour before you got here?" S'aru asks. "Duh."

For a moment I think Jason is going to shoot the boy, but he doesn't raise either of his pistols.

"Now what?" S'aru asks. "You want to traipse after the Untitled and exact some cosmic vengeance?"

"This isn't about vengeance," Jason says, "not yet anyway. I was trained by the All Caste- which means it falls to me to find out what that thing, the Untitled, wanted so badly that it was willing to break a truce almost as old as time."

I look at Jason with interest. Almost as old as time? I have never believed in magic before now, but after everything I have seen, I must admit, I am curious about these All Caste warriors, and the last one of them just happens to be my best, and only, friend.

Jason is very peculiar. Back when I thought he was John Watson, I thought he was merely a young man with anger issues who'd been through a traumatic near-death experience.

Now, I know he worked for Batman, and his near-death experience must have been that bombing in Ethiopia. Batman must have thought he was dead. And then he was trained by these All Caste warriors- it seems to be some sort of assassin school.

I thought he was just a mildly interesting ordinary man that I had the privilege to call my friend before, but now I know he is anything but ordinary.

"Fine," S'aru says. "But I'm responsible for holding onto you most cherished memories as collateral. You can have them back, if you return."

"Fine," Jason says it like it's no big deal, like he doesn't even want his most cherished memory. I stare at him oddly. Why would he not want the memory he holds most dear?

Blue mist flows out of the boy's hand and collects our most cherished memories. I know mine is of playing with Redbeard, but I can't help but wonder what Jason's was.

"Behind that door," the boy points, "everything awaits."

"Don't get used to our memories," I tell the little boy, "we'll be right back."

"I'm certain," S'aru says sarcastically.

Jason goes up to the door and begins to open it. "When we first go in, Sherlock, take a deep breath and hold it. The Chamber of All can be a little overwhelming at first."

When we enter, I see exactly what he means. There are thousands of stone staircases everywhere. It looks like there is an entrance to a jungle; there is a wrecked ship, a giant golden eye, thousands of strange-looking gateways…

"It's a nexus," Jason says, "From here you can go anywhere, anywhen."

I nod. "And where are we going?"

"Not a clue," he replies.

"Not very reassuring, Jason," I say calmly.

"Ducra used to say, "Follow the path and it will lead you"," he tells me. "Stick close."

"So," I say, "these monks, this place- this is really your old stomping ground. No wonder you're so screwed in the head."

"I did spend some time with these people, yes," he says, "and who are you calling screwed in the head?"

I sniff. "I see things other people don't, making me have a superior mind to all of them; you're crazy."

He gives me a look. "Thank you, so much. I'm glad you think I belong in Arkham Asylum."

"I never said you were crazy enough to be committed, I just said you were crazy," I correct him.

"Thank you, for summing that up," Jason says sarcastically, rolling his eyes behind that helmet of his.

We eventually come to a blue-green gate that Jason proceeds to walk through.

"So, explain to me how you knew this was here, even though you don't have a superior intellect like me and you've never been here before?" I ask, interested.

"It's called studying," he replies.

"Ah, were you the top of your class then?" I ask wryly.

"Yes, I passed assassin school with flying colors," I say.

"I'm sure Batman is so proud," I say, "especially considering from everything everyone has seen-"

"Batman doesn't kill, I know," Jason says. "He'd be ashamed if he knew, but I don't really give a rat's ass what he thinks."

"Why not?" I ask, ignoring his foul language. "I mean, I know he thinks you're dead, but-"

"And whose fault is it that he thinks I am dead?" Jason asks. "His; he left me to die, so why should I care what he thinks?"

"Did he leave you to die, or did he just not get there in time?" I ask.

Jason glares at me, and I know I am right.

"It's more than just that, though," Jason says.

"Then what is it?" I ask, staring at him, seeing if I can get answers out of his body language and expression.

"It doesn't matter," Jason says, "looks like we found what we came for."

Across the misty chamber, I see a glowing blue object on a pedestal.

"How do you know that is what the Untitled who slayed the people you trained with left here?" I ask. "And why would they? They could be leaving clues for you-"

"That's it exactly, Sherlock," he says. "They're taunting me. Leaving behind bread crumbs I'm sure I'm meant to follow. They want me to follow them."

"To destroy you too?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Don't know. Maybe."

We take a few steps forward, when suddenly giant spikes shoot up out of the ground, throwing us into the air.

"What in hell?"

"I guess they didn't tell you everything," I say.

"Shut up; it's not like you saw this coming either," he snaps.

The spikes raise up to reveal a giant, green monster the spikes are attached to the back of. It roars at us, exposing a mouth full of long fangs.

I take out the pistol Jason gave me and fire at the thing. I am really starting to hate magic, but I am not sure I can deny its existence anymore.

Jason shoots the thing inside one of its giant ears.

It roars in pain and outrage.

Jason throws himself onto the pedestal holding the glowing blue object. "Just a few more seconds, Sherlock. We'll be out of here before…" he breaks off, holding the object.

"What?" I ask, coming closer to him.

"We just risked our lives for… a snow globe of Colorado," he says, staring at it. "That's the big clue?"

"Isn't it obvious, Jason? It obviously means the Untitled you're after is in Colorado," I say.

"Yeah, I gathered that," he says, "you know, you may have a weirded out mind with your massive intellect, but at one point, I was trained by Batman, and people consider him to be the world's greatest detective; I think I can tell it means we're supposed to go to Colorado."

I sniff. "I'm the world's greatest detective."

He smirks. "Yeah, you are. I hope you meet the Bat one day; I'd love to see you rub it in his face that you're smarter than him."

I allow myself a small smile. "You really hate him, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Jason says, just as that monster comes for us again, roaring the whole way.

Suddenly, Jason throws one of his batarangs at the thing, the weapon going down its throat.

"What good will that do?" I ask. "

The monster blows up, letting out one last scream before turning to bits.

"It was an explosive," he says.

"I see that, Jason," I reply.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he says.

We get back out of the Chamber of All with the snow globe.

S'aru turns around, startled. "Oh! You made it."

I can tell by looking at him that he has been looking at our memories. I give the four thousand-year-old child a venomous glare, though it has nothing on the one Jason learned from the Batman.

"Of course we did," I say, "this is not the most dangerous thing either of us have ever done before. Now, give us back our memories."

"Of course," the boy says, "did your journey pay off?"

Jason looks at the snow globe. "Yep."

I take my memory back from the boy, knowing that it is about Redbeard.

"Jason Todd?" the boy says, as Jason begins to walk away.

"Keep it," he says.

I look up with interest at that. I was right; he doesn't want the memory. But why? The only way to find out… is if I watch the memory.

"Go ahead, Jason, I will catch up with you," I tell him.

"What? You want to deduce things about S'aru or something?" he asks.

"Of course," I reply, "after all, he is one of the most interesting people, other than you, who I have ever met. It is not often that I meet someone interesting. I get bored too easily."

He shrugs. "Whatever; I'll meet you by the entrance."

Once he is gone I turn towards S'aru.

"That's not why you stayed, is it, Sherlock Holmes?" he says. "There is something you wish to know."

"Yes, what is his cherished memory of?" I ask.

The boy purses his lips. "That is against protocols… but I guess I have broken enough rules already as it is. Very well; you may see."

I look into the memory, surprised by what I see, but in the end, it makes perfect sense.

The room I see must be the Batcave I have heard about; the lair of the Batman.

An old man is currently talking to the Batman, who is clad full in his Batsuit.

"Master Batman," the elderly man who must be Batman's butler says, "might I have a little assistance? Master Jason is sick with the flu. It wouldn't be at all prudent to allow him to join you on patrol tonight."

"He's a smart kid, Alfred," Batman says, "he knows if he's well enough."

"That's telling him," a younger version of Jason, clad in the robin suit, coughs. "Ready?" he asks weakly.

Batman looks back at him. "Alfred is right, Robin. You're sidelined until you get better."

"Yes, sir," Jason-Robin-sighs.

The older man takes him back upstairs and makes him sit down on a couch, his mask off.

"Let's see what's on the telly tonight," the older man-Alfred-says as he turns on the TV.

"I'm not a baby!" Jason tells him. "I can take care of myself!"

"Then I wish you would, Master Jason," the older man says.

I can tell that it is obvious the boy-Jason-is adoptive. Judging by his demeanor, it also is apparent, he did not come from a good environment before coming to live with the Batman. Perhaps… an abusive one? Could he have grown up on the streets? The thought… makes me angry. Jason happens to be my only friend; I loathe the idea of him being abused in anyway, especially at that age. He looks maybe thirteen in this memory.

Suddenly, a cowl-less Batman appears behind Jason, his cape in one arm. "Taking a night off once in a while isn't a crime, Jason," he says. "So what are we watching?"

The memory ends as Robin curls up against Batman, his head resting on his shoulder.

I am out of the memory again.

"Satisfied?" S'aru asks.

"That's why he doesn't want it," I say. "Because it is of his mentor, and he hates his mentor now."

"True," S'aru says. "After all, he let him die; I can see why he hates him."

"But, Jason's not dead," I say.

"Not now,' the kid says. "I'm sure he's waiting for you. Go."

"But-"

"Go!"

I glare at the boy, and then head after my only friend, determined to find out why everyone believes Batman let him die when he is still breathing. Coming back from the dead is impossible, so I know it must be just because he almost died and Batman believes him to be dead. But… then why did S'aru say 'Not now'?

I am going to find out.

"Ready?" Jason asks as I join him by the exit.

"Yes," I reply.

"Did you find out everything you wanted to?" he asks.

"Most of it," I reply. "There is still one mystery I have left to solve."

He raises an eyebrow at me now that that his helmet is off. "Okay then. Go ahead; be cryptic. It's not like I'm one to judge."

I chuckle a little an follow him out of the Hundred Acres of All

AN: Well, was it good? Was it bad? I'm sorry it's been a while. I've been busy with school summer projects since I take honors and AP classes, and trying to write some of my novels, but I decided I needed to get this story updated ASAP. I hope I got all the characterization right. Sherlock still has yet to find out that Jason actually died, and how. I am really looking forward to that. I am kind of thinking about having them hunt the Untitled and then go back, write about the Hounds of Baskerville and the Reichenbach Fall, and then pick up the story after the gap where Sherlock is 'dead', only instead of having Jason get married like John did, he will be out getting his revenge because he kind of has nothing left to lose, and that is where Sherlock will find him. Maybe I will have it so Jason has already attempted to get his revenge and is now back in London, and instead of Mary being targeted by Magnussen in His Last Vow, Jason is, because Magnussen would know about him being the Red Hood and all the terrible things he's done, and the fact that he is supposed to be dead. Still deciding. If you have a preference, please feel free to tell me in a review or a PM.

Thanks again for reading,

-DragonsintheMoonlight :)