Drabble: Friend

"Freak!"

Sherlock's small mouth opened to let out a sigh. "I know you don't like me because I'm better with my numbers than you are, but that's not your fault," he said.

The boy in front of him sneered- or, sneered as much as is possible for a seven year old.

"I can help you study, you know, since your mother's dead and your father's at work all the time," Sherlock said. Mycroft had told him to do this. 'Be nice to them, Sher,' he had said, 'Then they'll get bored of bullying you.' But as he watched the boy's sneer turn into a look of sad confusion and then to a snarl, he knew it hadn't worked and prepared himself.

'It doesn't really hurt,' Sherlock told himself as he wiped the blood from his nose. 'You're just giving in.' He wiped at his nose again, but it continued to dribble down his lip, and dripped, stained the white shirt of his school uniform.

"You can use my 'ankercheif."

Sherlock's hand paused on its way to wipe and he turned around. Behind him there was a boy- new, Sherlock didn't know him. He had short brown hair and huge brown eyes. He hadn't gotten his uniform yet, and the sweater he was wearing hung loosely on his frame. "What?" Sherlock asked.

"For your nose," said the boy. He seemed to remember something. "Well, I mean, if you 'ave your own 'ankercheif then..." he tried to stuff his hankercheif in his pocket, but his oversized sweater got in the way, and he stopped trying. "I'm John," After a few moments of silence he stuck his hand out and shoved his hankercheif in Sherlock's face. "Here, take it. My mummy told me to be nice and make friends but this isn't very easy."

Sherlock took the hankercheif and held it gingerly to his nose. "Why are you here?"

John thought. "Cos...I want to be your friend," he replied, nodding in agreement with his own statement.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah."

Suddenly Sherlock was very out of his depth. A friend? He'd never had one of these before. What do you do with a friend? Then he thought of something. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

John looked back towards the school. "Recess is almost ov-"

"That's okay. Come on."

Sherlock led John to the fence that surrounded the playground. Beyond it was a small grouping of trees. A hole in the fence and a small path through the trees led them to a willow tree- fully grown, branches hanging like curtains to the ground. Sherlock pulled aside the branches and John walked in.

Inside, it was like another world. The light streaming in was filtered green and the ground was carpeted with a layer of moss and fallen willow branches. John plopped himself down on the grass and looked up at Sherlock. "If we're gonna be friends I gotta know your name."

Sherlock laid down next to John and looked up at the branches.

"It's... Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."