Greg nodded understandingly, and Mycroft was pleasantly surprised that he didn't try to convince him to stay. 'Alright. I'm coming with you.'

Mycroft stopped breathing for a few moments, trying to understand what Greg had just told him. 'You… You really care that much?' He asked quietly. Greg smiled, closing the small gap between where they were sat and kissing him openly, in front of all the Lost Boys. Mycroft pulled away and blushed upon hearing whistles and cheers from the boys nearby and cooing from Sally.

'Of course I do, you idiot.' Greg grinned, turning to the others. 'Boys, Mycroft's going back to London. And I'm going with him. Anybody else want to go?'

None of the others seemed quite ready to return to the town they'd been picked up from, but Sherlock ran over, latching himself around Mycroft's waist and crawling onto his lap sadly. 'You're really going back?'

'I am, yes. But you don't need to.' Mycroft stroked his hair, emotions welling up inside him. While he was reluctant to leave Sherlock here alone, he had already realised long ago that this was where boys came to learn to grow up, rather than to avoid it. In the end, they all return to where they came from, fully formed in their young bodies, aware of far more than the adults around them. Since coming to Neverland Mycroft had discovered more about himself, about how to act and how to believe.

'I can stay here as long as I like?' Sherlock asked. Mycroft nodded, smiling, and Sherlock cuddled John closer. 'But I'll be lonely without you.'

'You've got John, and the others.' Mycroft pointed out kindly.

'They're not you.'

Mycroft started forming a soothing answer, but Dimmock flitted in front of them, followed by the telltale sound of bells through a breeze that signified he was trying to communicate. Greg listened intently, nodding a few times and smiling as he listened. 'Sherlock,' he started, voice slow, 'why don't you put John in the middle of the clearing for a moment?'

Sherlock clutched John tighter, eyes widening. 'I don't want to.' Greg slowly talked him around to it, and Sherlock left his best friend in the middle of the clearing as Dimmock disappeared.

He returned a few minutes later, followed by many other faires. In synchronisation, they surrounded John in light, swarming around him and rotating as if one entity. The light emanating from them grew brighter and more powerful, until none of them could look at the peculiar happenings for more than a second. Sherlock cried out John's name, but Mycroft pulled him close to prevent him running forward.

The lights faded slightly, receding and the close circle spread to reveal a boy curled up where John had been only moments before.

Sherlock stared openly, along with the other Lost Boys, as the boy sat up. He wore a cable knit jumper that fitted perfectly, and dark jeans. His hair was short, but curiously the exact same shade as the fur of Sherlock's bear. His eyes were the same soft blue as the bear's eyes had been, too.

'…John?' Sherlock spoke shakily, as if not quite believing that he was even saying the name out loud, and the boy looked over to him, thin lips spreading into a warm smile.

'Sherlock.' His voice seemed to match him perfectly, and he stood carefully, as if unsure if his legs would hold him. He took deep breaths, blinking slowly and looking around as if seeing the world for the first time. The boy looked at Sherlock again as he got close enough to touch. 'It's me, Sherlock. It's John.' The boy smiled again, less pleased and more affectionate now. 'I've wanted to talk to you for so very long. To hold you back as you hold me.' He extended his arms, and Sherlock stepped into his personal space, wrapping his arms around his best friend and clutching the fabric of his jumper in his fists as he held him close. For the first time, John held him just as strongly.

Leaving Neverland had been easier and harder than Mycroft had been anticipating. It was easy because he knew that his time in Neverland had come to a close, and it was time to face the world once more. He couldn't hide forever.

And yet it was difficult. He knew Sherlock would be happy, especially now that John could talk back to him and they still shared a bed, because that's what they'd always done and it changed nothing, really, but Mycroft just hoped he'd be safe. Leaving somewhere he'd been dreaming of, and knowing that he was going to return to a life he was unhappy with, a life he dreaded, that's what made it painful. But having Greg at his side made it easier.

When the two of them turned up at the door that had once belonged to the Darling's, it was less like coming home, more like visiting. His father and mother had held onto him tightly, crying, but Mycroft didn't have it in him to cry with them. He'd been driven out by them, and didn't regret it for a second. Trying to explain who this punk by his side was, and that he didn't kidnap Mycroft was as difficult as leaving Neverland behind had been.

And yet, eventually, he talked them around. Of course, he couldn't explain where he'd been, but he managed to tell them he'd needed time, to come to terms with everything. He told them he'd stayed in youth hostels, where he met Greg, who had nowhere to live. Mycroft told his parents that he was ready to grow up, so long as Greg was allowed to grow up with him. His parents must have seen something in the looks they exchanged, the way their hands lingered close together when they sat on the couch to talk about what had happened, because they didn't argue, only smiled.

Mycroft explained that Sherlock had gone with him, and was staying with the hostel owners, attending school. He hadn't returned because he wanted to try to improve his personality. Mycroft knew how ridiculous it sounded, but knowing one of their sons was safe seemed to calm them and make it clear how they'd not been the best parents.

When Sherlock returned six months later, with John by his side and the introduction that John had been staying with him, there was more of the same from their parents, who had managed to lose two sons and suddenly acquire four. Their mother welcomed John, cooing over him and commenting on how much he reminded her of Sherlock's old bear. When asked, Sherlock simply said he had John in person, so he no longer needed a bear.

Years passed, and Mycroft did take up a minor position in the British Government, one which allowed him to swing the applications to Scotland Yard and get Gregory – Mycroft insisted on the name, saying it suited him perfectly - onto the fast track to Detective Inspector. Sherlock joined cases, with John ever at his side, to help.

As their old friends had returned from Neverland, they'd all met up, staying close to each other as they grew up. Sally got adopted by a lovely family just a few blocks away, the twins flitted in and out of care, mostly living as they pleased in Kensington Gardens. Anderson lived across town, but came over whenever he could, and Benjamin lived just down the street, to Sherlock's utter joy.

Adric and Jake popped up from time to time, eventually consulting officially with their old leader's division of Scotland Yard, doubling up with Sherlock every now and again, while Sally and Anderson mysteriously got jobs working next to Greg.

Alex found a boy who loved him, accepted him and all his flaws, after a little while of moving from person to person. He had an Irish accent, hair a little messy. The Irish boy never spoke much of his family, aside from that his uncle had mysteriously disappeared when he was young but they'd not been close. Richard Brook was told by his family that he resembled his missing uncle, but had none of his characteristics. He went into acting, presenting a children's TV series, and Alex created the affects for him.

Zak was adopted by a family that didn't quite understand him, but he'd known they never would. When he had lived with them for a while, he went to a book singing and met a girl he'd been shocked to admit was older than him, but was still so very young. She taught him that growing up is entirely optional, and that all his imperfections, his small traits and problems, they were all a part of what made him so wonderful.

They Lost Boys slowly grew into Lost Men who'd found where they belonged, but often remembered their times in Neverland with strong fondness. They spoke of Peter with fascination, wondering what had become of him, although nobody attempted to find him. It would be a simple matter of searching for the Darling's in old records and tracking down Wendy, but none of them wished the see the boy who never grew up as an aged man.

So they amused themselves with recollections of their adventures, dwelling on them and letting them fuel them in the knowledge that whatever they did, they were still Lost Boys at heart, as was every child that had once believed in Peter. In fact, they knew there were Lost Boys at that moment, in Neverland, fighting Captain Moriarty, dancing with the Indians and swimming with the Mermaids, the perfect way to keep the memory of Peter Pan alive.

After all, it's all happened before, and it will all happen again.

-The End-

Well that was fantastic to write, honestly. I got a bit teary over the final few pages, I admit. Hope you all enjoyed the ride!

-Lorcan.