The Swing deserved the capital letters.

It was the archaic but sturdy type that hung from the branches of the tall beech tree outside his grandmother s house. It had jute ropes and a seat of planking worn smooth by housing the bums of past generations. The current descendant was swinging back and forth, carrying out an experiment about pendulums and parabolas. (Mycroft s physics textbook lay on the grass by his feet) .

The child had seen an older human perform the trick on a swing last week in the park.

The swing took him higher as the breeze ruffled through his errant dark curls. Now came the tricky part - testing the theory of parabolas. If he timed it right, at the very apex of the upward swing before the inevitable drag all he had to do was let go and fly

A somersault in mid air! of all the stupid fixations in the human world.

Darkness.

When Sherlock Holmes opened his eyes, he could see the world in shades of gray and purple. A world currently being viewed between his legs. This struck him as odd because he couldn't feel any strain on his hamstring muscles (he learnt that through another 'borrowed' book on anatomy) nor could he feel any pain elsewhere though he had clearly fallen off the swing. A few false starts later, he sat up and blinked slowly.

This was not The Swing, though this too deserved the capital letters. The ropes were black like licorice strings and the seat was a curious charcoal black. No, pure ebony he realized running his hand over the grain.

His ears caught the grass rustling.

ATTEND TO ME SMALL HUMAN

It was a deep voice that went straight through your head and down your spine, did a triple somersault then completed the circuit again.

Sherlock lifted his head.

THERE HAS BEEN AN ERROR. RETURN FROM WHENCE THY CAME.

"I can see right up your nostrils." he observed conversationally. He thought for a bit and added. "Can I get my nose to look like that?" Death sighed as Sherlock focused cross eyed while jabbing his finger against his nose.

STOP THAT

Surprising himself Sherlock obeyed.

DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU ARE HERE?

Sherlock shrugged, gazing around with mild interest.

Death tried another tack.

YOUR MATERNAL RELATION WILL FIND YOUR ABSENCE MOST DISCONCERTING.

"So?"

YOU DO NOT SEEM VERY FRIGHTENED SMALL HUMAN.

"Why should I be? You re not scary. You don't even make woo-woo noises."

Death deflated.

That was the problem when dealing with children, especially young children. They didn't develop the mental screens that adults used around the reality of death. It was jarring and altogether embarrassing to be on the receiving end of their curiosity. He could read this one at a glance. Impressive vitality, lack of fear and total boredom. A deadly combination, if he may employ the pun.

NOW PAY ATTEN - WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

Sherlock had ambled over and seated himself on the swing that overlooked Infinity.

"Push me" He ordered imperiously.

What did humans call a past experience that occurred all over again irrespective of time and space? That Quirmian term. Ah yes Deja vu...memories of Ysabel sitting on the swing, chubby legs swinging, pleas of "Puth me Father". Her eyes of frosted blue stared from the past into the present. Just like the little one now.

VERY WELL. .JUST ONE PUSH

"-himself off. He s lucky his skull didn't crack open like a melon. Master Sherlock? Are you awake, dear?"

The worried faces around his bed grinned in simultaneous relief. For a moment they looked like skeletons set in permanent grins.

"Did my skull really crack open?" he asked dreamily.