(I kind of combined the first 2 and added a bit… I hope you like it!)
The first time Sherlock Holmes saw Greg Lestrade was when he was 10 years old. Location: the park. Motivation: fun. According to Mycroft, that is.
“What are you doing?” the shorter boy had frowned at Sherlock, who was playing in the sandbox.
“Building a ship.” was the reply. Obviously.
“Yeah, but why?” Greg sat next to the strange boy.
“Because I’m a pirate.” sighed Sherlock. “And as everyone knows, pirates captain ships. They are the commanders of their vessel, and answer to no-one.” Sherlock’s eyes glittered. “They shoot anyone that doesn’t obey them, and they take the treasure that is rightfully theirs. It is a lifestyle that I wish to adopt.”
“That sounds awful.” Greg raised an eyebrow. “Why would you want to shoot people?”
“Because I get bored.” Sherlock shrugged. Greg stood up and dusted the sand off his trousers.
“You’re mad.” he giggled. Sherlock looked up at him, a little bewildered. “But mad is good.” Greg grinned.
High school should have been boring, but with his notorious image spreading throughout the school, Sherlock was never alone. Age 17, pushed into a stupid school because Mycroft wanted him to be “normal”, whatever that meant. Plus he could never argue with Mummy.
“Sherlock, I’m not sure about this!” Greg whispered.
“Shut up.” Sherlock frowned. They crossed the field, their huge bags slung against their backs.
“We could get a criminal record!”
“For the last time, shut UP, Lestrade!” Sherlock whispered furiously. The light-blonde boy fell silent. They pulled the spray-cans out of their bags and started painting.
It was only the next morning that someone noticed the graffiti on the wall. Mycroft was called; Lestrade’s mother was called; both of them were fuming.
“Sherlock, what on Earth possessed you to write ‘the headmistress is sleeping with the gym teacher’ on the wall?” Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. Sherlock and Greg glanced at each other.
“I was bored.” Sherlock grinned.
Although he had known Sherlock for at least 30 years, the first time that Greg really saw Sherlock was at Hamish Holmes’ seventh birthday. The child had been given a magnifying glass from his other father, John Watson, and he was happily jumping around, examining random objects with it.
“He likes it.” Sherlock smiled. John smiled too, and kissed Sherlock quickly on the cheek. He ran over to Hamish to help him with some other presents. Greg glanced at Sherlock, who was smiling happily.
“You’re proud of him, aren’t you?” Greg asked Sherlock. The taller man looked at Greg with sparkling eyes. It reminded Greg of the first time they had met, when Sherlock had built that ship in the sand. He was the same little boy he had always been – but now he had finally become a man.
“Of course.” Sherlock’s gaze went back to Hamish and John.
“I knew, one day, you’d become a good man.” Greg smiled. Sherlock grinned.
“My pleasure, Sherlock.”