I won't make this fanfiction very long, but I certainly appreciate readers, followers and reviews. If you like it, let me know! ^_^

John got up with the midmorning sun shedding its rays, hitting him directly on the eyes. He moaned as he attempted to move, blinded by the sun, having fallen asleep on the armchair. He rubbed his eyes while sitting up more comfortably. Like a little boy, he ruffled his hair, his eyes shutting again due to morning laziness.

He looked over to his left; Sherlock is balled up, sleeping, face pressed against the Chesterfield couch, most likely still sulking. Cluedo is still laid out over the dining table and John chuckles silently. Sherlock can't get over the fact that John always finds and proves to him who the killer is and he can't; he still insists the victim commits suicide.

John got up and dragged his body to the bathroom, seeking for a quick shower. Even though the water rushing down his face awoke him up, it didn't wash away the terrible ache hammering his back muscles. He stepped out of the bathtub, wrapped the towel around his waist. In those moments he believes he's growing old because he gets all achy if he doesn't sleep in his bed.

With his hand he wiped the fogged up mirror and eyed himself. He ran his hands along his cheeks, feeling some beardy hair that he decided to shave. Once he was done he made his way to the main room, going to pick up clean clothes.

"Sherlock, John!" Mrs. Hudson walked in suddenly, almost seeing John completely naked. "Oh my, sorry." The lady apologizes and quickly John covers his exposed skin. "Ah, well" She continued a little bewildered. "there's a young girl at the door. Says she'll only talks with you or Sherlock. I tried to invite her in but she doesn't want."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I'll go check on her right away. Well, after I put on my clothes."

"Of course." The landlady left as quickly as she entered.

John threw the blanket over the armchair, calling out. "Awake up, Sherlock. There's a new case, apparently."

While John dressed up Sherlock got up leisurely and walked to the kitchen, serving himself with a cup of coffee.

Quickly John walked to the bathroom again, dragged a comb across his hair. When he returned to the main room, Sherlock is sitting at the dining table, reading the newspaper, blowing his coffee.

"Join me for a cup?"

"There's someone down there, Sherlock!"

John walked downstairs in a quick pace and opened the door finding a young schoolgirl, of seven or eight of age, sitting on the doorstep with a satchel that goes across her shoulder.

"Say, sweetheart," John mildly spoke, ducking near the girl. "you don't happen to have seen a young woman wanting to talk with the people who live here, do you?"

"It's me, Doctor Watson." She spoke. "I'm the one who wants to speak with Mr. Holmes."

"You?" He asked surprised.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me then what's your name first then?"

"Layla, as in Derek and The Dominos' song. Mum loves music, daddy loves Eric Clapton."

John chuckled. "I'm John, by the way."

"I know. I read your blog, Doctor Watson, and I love it. Me favorite case is The Hounds of Baskerville. And I love the way Mr. Holmes solves all the cases. You know, I have a mind just like his!"

"You do? Are you a good student at school?" John started to chit chat, looking around. That child must have got lost from her parents.

"School is boring. I was promoted to third grade class."

"What grade should you be in if you hadn't been promoted?" John asked, taking a seat next to her.

"First grade. But it is all so easy. Mrs. Howard, our teacher, took me to do an IQ test. I scored 152 but she says I can get a higher score with time."

John frowned. The conversation was getting intriguing. "Ok, you're very smart, but you're still a child, so where are your parents? Have you lost from them?"

"No. I came here by me self. Ma mum is at our home in Liverpool, preparing for a big concert for this weekend and me daddy is in Vienna, at a Chemists' Conference."

"Liverpool!? How did you come here?" And how come she doesn't know you're gone?"

"I told me daddy I was staying with mum and told mum I was going to Vienna with daddy!" She innocently confessed. "Then, before riding the train I got close to a woman who was holding a child and everyone thought I was her daughter too."

"Oh good Lord." John sighed, rubbing his eyes. "And of all the places to go you decide to come here, why?"

"I want to learn from Mr. Holmes. You think he can teach me more things? Is he home?"

John smiled, saying. "He is. Last I checked he was having a cup of coffee, reading yesterday's paper and is still sulked at me for having lost Cluedo."

The little girl giggled and admitted. "I don't like Cluedo either. Isn't suicide an option of answer?"

John's eyes widened with astonishment. "Ok, why don't we go inside and I give you something to eat? You must be hungry and then we call-"

"I go inside if you ask something to Mr. Holmes for me."

"Alright, what is it?"

"Tell him 20 7 53 16-"

"Wait, wait!" John cut her speech.

"Oh sorry, your brain runs slower; I sometimes forget that not all people are like me." She said, though not trying to be rude. The girl took a school notebook and a pen from her satchel and wrote him a small note, giving it to him. "I wait for you to bring me his answer."

"O-okay." John stuttered. Dealing with that little girl was like dealing with a child version of Sherlock.

John entered the house, not shutting the door. He made his way upstairs and spoke to Sherlock as soon as he entered the door. "You won't believe what is downstairs."

"Is it a promising case for me or a promising case for your average mind?"

John skipped ahead Sherlock's comment, continuing. "It's a seven-year-old girl with an IQ score of 152. Asked me to give you this and is waiting for your answer."

Sherlock unfolded the paper sheet, reading out to himself what was written there.

After a brief moment of thinking he gave back the paper back to John, saying. "102; tell her that."

John was puzzled and only muttered an 'alright'. On his way downstairs he unfolded the paper, reading what the girl had written. "20 7 53 16 73 39 2 75." He stopped at the last step, staring ahead with a confused expression. John opened the door, finding the girl waiting for him. "He said 102, don't know wha-"

"Can I talk with him?"

"Be my guest." John said. He opened the door and led her upstairs to Sherlock.

"Mister, please," She began as soon as she saw him. "I came a long way. Just three days, that's all I ask."

"My answer to your question is still the same." Sherlock answered.

"Alright, what answer and what question? All I heard was you speaking out numbers!" John burst, confused.

"Atomic numbers of chemical elements," Sherlock enlightened John. "that's what she wrote."

"And?" He insisted. Neither of them said a word. The girl was still captive in looking at Sherlock and he was trying hard to avoid her. "Ok, neither of you will tell me, so I'll figure what it is all this! In the meantime you" He pointed Sherlock. "will keep doing whatever you're doing and you" This time he pointed the girl. "put down your bag, take a seat and eat something. Mrs. Hudson?" John called on the top of his lungs. Once the landlady was on the room, John requested. "Can you get the little girl something to eat?"

"Of course. Come with me, love, I'm sure there's nothing eatable in here!" She said, extending her hand at her.

The girl left her satchel on the room and walked downstairs with Mrs. Hudson. John sat at his laptop, searching those numbers for chemical elements, mumbling frustrated words. It didn't take him too long to associate each number to a chemical.

"Calcium, Nitrogen, Iodine," John began to report the result of his search, waiting for Sherlock to interrupt him at any moment, luckily to explain him everything.

Instead of explaining, Sherlock just said every chemical element John had searched. "Sulfur, Tantalum, Yttrium, Helium, Rhenium."

"And you answer with Nobelium. I'm still not following the logic!"

"Look for each element symbol denotation."

John sighed deeply but continued his research. Sherlock likes to make him think like that.

"Fantastic…" He muttered reading his scribbles. "Ca, N, I, S, TA, Y, He, Re."

"Bravo, John!" Sherlock pronounced, truly excited for John's accomplishment.

"And your answer was No. This was-"

"Don't say fantastic again. Or amazing. Or anything similar."

John was still amazed with his success that he only noticed that Mrs. Hudson and the girl were back on the room when the child asked. "Have you figured it out yet?"

"As a matter of fact I did."

"Can you convince him otherwise?" She begged, giving him the puppy dog eyes.

"Before anything else you need to phone both your parents and tell them where you are and that you are okay."

"Why?"

"Because…" John hushed. He wanted to answer with the typical 'because I said so', but he knew that wouldn't work. "You know what happens if your parents communicate you're missing? There's going to be Police looking everywhere for you and if they knock on this door and find you here, Sherlock and I are charged with kidnapping because you're too young to say that you weren't coerced to lie."

"But if they agree, can you convince Mr. Sherlock into letting me stay?"

"I can try." Sherlock looked sideways at him, disapproving his answer. "But first things first; who do we phone first?"

"Daddy, 'cause daddy always understands. Then we deal with mum."

"And we're doomed…" Sherlock mumbled. John looked at him, waiting for an explanation. "The differentiation from 'mum' to 'daddy'. Her parents are divorced; in a way she prefers her father. When she says he always understands, it's implied that it was from her father that she got this smartness and allows her to explore that intelligence, so he will understand if she tells him she wants to stay with us."

"Daddy is a college professor of chemistry and mathematics but ma mum is smart too. She's a cellist on the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic's orchestra."

"Ooh, the accent and dialect; she's Liverpudlian." Sherlock concluded.

John sighed; Sherlock was not going to be any help with the situation. He grabbed the phone himself and walked to the girl who was highly interested on Sherlock's Stradivarius violin.

"Come here." He beckoned her, pointing the couch for her to take a seat next to him. "Do you know your father's number? Uhm, of course you do, idiot question." John gave her the phone, ordering. "Dial the number and then give it to me, I'm speaking with your father."

Layla dialed the number and handed the phone back to John. As he waited for the call to be taken, he asked her. "What is his name?"

"Henry Conrad."

At that moment, the call was taken. "Hello, Sir. Am I by any chance talking with Henry Conrad?"

"Yes. With whom am I talking?"

"John Watson."

"Sherlock Holmes' partner? From the blog of Doctor John H. Watson? I'm a big fan."

"Yes, it's me. What I have to tell you sounds very vague and unlikely to believe, but I need to tell you anyway. Your daughter is currently sitting next to me in my flat here in London."

"Layla is there? How did she go there? What happened?"

"I'll let her explain you all of that. We talk in a while Mr. Conrad." John handed the phone to Layla, saying. "After you're done talking with your father, don't hang up and give me back the phone."

"Hi daddy." She joyfully greeted. "I'm alright, don't get a cob (…) Daddy, you know I'm not divvy. I look after me self (…) Mum is busy and would leave me with a nanny and you are there in Vienna, so I was bored! Let me stay here? (…) I hopped on a train and looked for 221B Baker Street. Me just wanna learn with Mr. Holmes for the weekend." John was listening to the intermittent conversation when Layla gave the phone, saying. "He wants to speak with you."

"Mr. Conrad, I know I'm just a stranger, but what do you want me to do? We're going to phone her mother after." At that moment John looked at Layla who was nodding her head, making him say. "Yes, we are. I'm sorry, but she was nodding a 'no'."

"You're no stranger, Dr. Watson, believe me. And I'm not worried at all; if you two weren't the people she sees on the telly and on the papers, she would never address a word to you. She's an admirer of both you and Mr. Holmes, and as you may have noticed by now, Layla is gifted. Who am I to deny her constant seeking for knowledge? I know this may sound irresponsible, but don't phone my ex-wife. I'll handle her. And to me, and mostly to her, it'd be an honor if you'd let her stay there for the weekend. Well, obviously if you're predisposed to accept it. I promise if you agree to take her for the weekend, I'll hop on the first flight and be in London on Monday morning sharp."

"I guess it'd be no harm in letting her stay." Upon listening to those words Layla was already celebrating. "She's very happy right now." John said, trying to disguise a smile that played with his lips. The little girl, no matter how smart she was, still was a child and she was adorable, bursting with happiness.

John listened to the man laugh a little, and felt, through an irregular breathing of his and the way he spoke after, that his girl's reaction had touched that father's heart and soul. "I believe so. She had begged me several times to take her to London and meet Mr. Holmes. All she wants is to learn. And I promise to pay for anything she may wreck. Now, can you put her on the phone once more? I want to leave her some reminders."

"Of course." John gave back the phone to the girl. It didn't take much long for her to hang up, after muttering a lot of 'okays'.

Sherlock got up from his chair, looking at his phone screen. "I'm off to St. Bart's. Lestrade wants me to see a body at the morgue."

"Can I go along?" Layla asked.

Before Sherlock even answering, John warned. "You're not taking her to a morgue. She's still a child!"

"I'm not taking her. I didn't even say I let her stay at the flat."

Sherlock left out the door. Layla ran to grab her satchel and left after him. John got up in a hurry as well, following the two. In the end, the three were riding the same cab. Layla was still sweetly looking at Sherlock, trying to break him.

"Oh come Sherlock, it's just for the weekend." John finally spoke, being already charmed by the girl.

"You as well, John?"

"Please Mr. Sherlock." Layla plead once more.

"Not matter what I say you'll be following me anyways." Sherlock affirmed.

"Sounds like someone I know." John muttered, making Sherlock stare out the window.

Layla giggle with the doctor's commentary and said. "I take that as a 'yes' Mr. Sherlock!"

TBC