Chapter 1
Sherlock's P.O.V
Boarding School. How pitiful. How can anyone stand it? It's just a way for unloving parents to ship their children off so that they can continue their lives easier than if the child were there. My parents obviously fit into that category, considering how early they settled me into a suit and packed me off to France. I was eight years old. Extraordinary, isn't it?
One thing that my parents didn't consider though was my education in France abruptly ending when I was eleven because I had been expelled from every boarding school that was respectful for the Holmes name. Apparently I had been 'disrespecting the boundaries that teachers hold when they decide to take on the distasteful work of teaching the young' whatever that meant. How was I supposed to know that Miss Green didn't want everyone knowing that she was having an affair with he boyfriend's sister? Anyhow, I soon found myself starting into boarding schools in England and pissing off that lots of teachers as well. Wasn't too hard.
"William Sherlock Scott Holmes get down here this instant!" I always know what this sentence means when it is shouted up the garden or into the attic where I conduct all of my experiments; after being excluded for some comment that I made about some boy and his sister who are sleeping together. My mother and father would take turns at slapping me when the news broke. I say slap. What I really mean is that I am dragged underground, chained to a bed and left to starve for three days, after I've been slapped by my mother and kneed in the stomach by my father. It's all rather tedious if you ask me. They simply cannot do anything less predictable with my time.
Any way. Today is the first day of my latest, in one long line of ten boarding schools in England and five in France, boarding schools. How dull! I haven't left yet; Mycroft hasn't let me leave because he feels that he needs to give me another talk on how to behave like a Holmes. I can hear his footsteps on the stairs so I start to fold my shirts. The purple one is my favourite. I'll be able to wear it after classes and on weekends. Of course I'll be alone so nobody will comment on how amazing it makes me look. I don't need them though. I know how amazing it makes me look without their comments. Mycroft is standing at my door now, umbrella in hand and standing as tall as he can.
"Good morning, Mycroft. May I ask why you are standing at my door at four in the morning. I know that I have to leave at six, but surely your 'be good, dear brother' speech won't last two hours... Like the last time?!" I smile to myself and turn to face my older brother. "Wow, brother. You've put on three pounds in the last week. Diet not working out for you then?" I smirk and fold my arms across my chest.
"Just like you it seems, Sherlock." Mycroft replies sarcastically. I must admit that I have lost a couple of pounds in the past few weeks. What can I say? I've been expelled from two schools in the past six months. "I really think you should start putting on weight; you are a growing man after all." Now it is his turn to smirk at me as my arms fall to my sides and I raise my eyebrows.
"What exactly is it that you want, Mycroft. I am getting ready for school, just as you asked. I have not packed my skull, just as you asked. What more do you want to torment me with before I never see you again."
"Whatever do you mean, little brother?"
"You. In the Government. Really, Mycroft? The Government. I thought you of all people would be able to choose a creative job of some kind."
"Oh, but, Sherlock. You do realise that when Mummy and Daddy find out about your little drug problem, that I'll be the one that has to settled everything with the police and our parents. Don't you think I will be a little useful to you in the position?" Mycroft has moved himself to my bed now and is inspecting the bottom of his umbrella. Why does he carry that infernal thing around everywhere?
"I won't need your help, Mycroft, because mother and father will never find out. Please leave." I say almost politely. When Mycroft doesn't move I raise my hand to point at the door and shout, "OUT!" I don't think I've ever seen my brother move so slowly, and that is saying something. Finally I can go into my Mind Palace without my brother's movements tumbling through my thoughts.
"Sherlock!" I hear my brother call from the bottom of the stair case. "It's time to go to your new school." I sigh deeply before shoving my skull into my case and closing it off before I change my mind. Mycroft will know, of course, but it is where I keep my needle just in case. It's the perfect hiding place, strangely enough. None of my previous room mates have wanted to go near it.
I walk down the stairs, dragging my case behind me, before grabbing my coat and scarf wrapping them both tightly around my body. Mycroft is probably right, though I'd never tell him, I do need to put a few pounds on. I'm seeing my ribs more than I would like. But eating is such a time waster, and my mind cannot function to the correct standard if I eat. My brain is more important to me than my body.
"Oh, brother dear, there is no need to look so excited. It is only another school for you to get expelled from." Mycroft can be such a dick sometimes.
"Sorry, Mycroft. I didn't realise that the scowl I was wearing meant that I was excited. I'll try harder next time to not look as excited." I push past him and shove my case next to the car. I hear him chuckle behind me so I turn to face his smirk one last time. "What?!"
"Oh, do stop being so childish, Sherlock. You're fifteen for goodness sake. Start acting like your age."
"You're twenty-two, I don't see you acting any more grown up than I."
"Are you not going to say a farewell to our parents?"
"No-pe." I enjoyed popping the 'p' when I said nope, or yep. With my voice I could do it very easily when the time arose for me to answer the boring questions the teachers decided to ask me. "Goodbye, Mycroft. Enjoy being boring." And with that, I step into the car and slam the door behind me. This is going to be one long trip.
John's P.O.V
"Hey, Johnny boy. Have you heard the news?" I could hear Greg shout from behind me. He's running towards me in his new trainers that he's been showing off for the past two weeks.
"Please, Greg. We've discussed this. You know that only my mum and sister can call me that." I turn to face him and give him my best stance. He's still a bit taller than me. Bastard.
"Well, it's not my fault I heard it when you invited me over, is it?" Greg always knows how to twist my anger, and today is no exception. At least I know he does it so that I'll play as aggressively as I can during the rugby match later on. Other just take the piss because I'm shorter than them, or not as smart as them. They are people that I like to categorise in the 'Stupid Dicks of the Year' category of the people I know. Notice how I said people, not person.
"Whatever, Gregory. Any way, what did you want to tell me?"
"Huh?"
"You said 'have I heard the news'? No, I haven't. What news?" I see Greg's smirk replace his smile and I sigh deeply. "Don't tell me. That new kid is arriving today." Greg nods and starts to laugh, almost silently. "How many schools has he been expelled from again?" Greg only laughs harder, which is getting extremely annoying now.
"Don't worry, John. I'm sure he's not that bad. In fact, I've heard that he's a bit of a genius." Greg places his hand on my shoulder, supposedly as a source of comfort. "But, also that's he's a freak."
"I think I'd like to decide that for myself if you don't mind. I haven't even met- What's his name?" I ask, relatively irritated by my friend's presumptions. I don't understand how people could call others 'freak' or 'worthless' because nobody could be like that. Especially not someone they've never met themselves.
"Sherlock Holmes."
"Right. I haven't met Sherlock, and neither have you by the sounds of it, so how can you just listen to others?"
"Jesus, John. I saw him getting beaten up, which was why I came to find you, because he said that Anderson was sleeping with Sally." My eyes widen before I push past Greg and run the way we both came. "West Court, John. Go get 'em!" I hear Greg shout behind me, but I don't pay any attention.
Sherlock's P.O.V
"Sir, we've arrived." The driver announces, pulling me from my Mind Palace and back to reality. Ugh. I'm already dreading walking into that monstrosity. It looks positively awful. Time to go and make people move away from me, I think. I step out of the car and walk forward until I'm leaning against a tree. Closing my eyes for a moment, I take a deep breath and re-open them. A tallish boy walks towards me with a girl on his arm. Obviously he girlfriend.
"Hey, new boy." The boy shouts in my face. I can feel his spit on my nose so I wipe it off with my sleeve.
"Hello." I say to the girl before announcing, "Did you know that your boyfriend is sleeping with that girl over there," I point to a girl with tightly curled hair and look back at the boy, "I suggest that you break it off now."
"What did you say?" The boy shouts at me. Once again spit flying onto my face.
"I wish that you would learn to control your issues with talking and spitting. Or rather shouting and spitting. It is very unhygienic and I would rather not catch your germs, Anderson."
The boy looks puzzle before grabbing me by the collar of my coat and slamming me against the tree as hard as he can. Which is not very hard if you ask me. "How do you know my name,-er."
"My name is Sherlock Holmes, Philip Anderson. I noticed that the girl you're sleeping with was texting you as I walked past her. It was obviously you because you smiled and looked straight at her when your phone buzzed. That's how I know your name. Anything else you'd like to kn-ugh" Before I know it, my nose has been punched and I'm bleeding into my hand and scarf. I hold my nose briefly before ducking another punch and chuckling slightly as Anderson smashes his hand against the bark. I twist away and turn to face him.
"Stay put!" He shouts at me before taking another swing. He gets my jaw, but I quickly respond with a right hook to the stomach and and elbow to the jaw. In the distance, I notice a boy with silver hair running into the building before my vision is clouded with Anderson's fist once again. This time I allow him to straddle my arms to my sides as he takes the punches at my face. I block out most of it, but, if I've counted correctly, he has landed eight blows onto each side of my face. My nose is broken and I'll be badly bruised. Anderson's girlfriend is pulling him off me and there is a crowd around us now.
I can vaguely hear someone shouting me name, my name, before a pair of deep blue eyes are before my own. They are very beautiful. No. I can't think like everyone else. My body is just transport.
"Sherlock. How many fingers am I holding up?" The blue eyed boy asks me holding three fingers in the air.
"Three. Honestly. I've only got a broken nose, whoever you are, there's no need to lap 'round me like a lost puppy." I reply before standing, wiping my nose on my scarf and looking around me. Everyone is staring, including the blue eyed boy. "What?" I almost scream and everyone walks away swiftly.
"Sherlock, I think you need to get that seen to." That boy is speaking to me again. Why won't he leave me alone. And how does he know my name?
"How do you know my name?" I ask him as I look down to my knuckles. They're slightly bruised, but they'll be fine compared to my face. When I look up the boy is staring at me as though he's an animal that's been caught in a headlight. "Well?"
"S-sorry. I'm John Watson, hi. I'm your room mate. My friend Greg Lestrade came to find me when he saw that you were being beaten by Anderson. I came down as soon as I could!" I continue to stare at the boy-John Watson. Not only are his eyes beautiful, but life has certainly not let him down on the rest of his body. He's muscular, got blond hair and a face that lights up when he smiles; which he's doing right now.
"You, John Watson, one of the most popular in this entire school, ran here as fast as your short legs could take you-"
"Hey, I'm not short!"
"-so that you could come and stop the new boy from being beaten up because he told Anderson's girlfriend that she was being cheated on. Why would you do that? You obviously have a reputation to keep. So tell me, why did you come to help me? You don't even know me."
"How did you know that by the way?"
I sigh before replying, "It's simple, really. When I approached this tree I saw that Sally Donovan had just received a message that she was clearly flattered by because she adjusted her bra slightly before looking over towards Anderson. When she was replying I saw the name Anderson with a love heart next to it, obviously meaning that she was romantically involved with him. The fact that they were both wearing the same deodorant as each other, which is for men by the way, clearly tells me that they are sleeping together. When she replied to him he looked immediately at her and then left his girlfriend briefly in order to reply to the text. He would never risk replying in front of her, do he had to get away. When Sally received that message, she turned and he winked at her." I look back at John and see that his mouth is hanging open completely and his eyes are as wide as they can go.
"You can tell me to piss off or whatever now if you wish. I'll happily have a room that I only have." I prepare John to shout something at me but when I look back up he's smiling at me. "What?"
"That was... extraordinary!" He compliments me before chuckling slightly.
"Really?"
"Yes, absolutely extraordinary."
"That's not what people normally say."
"What do people normally say?"
"Piss off, you freak." I smile slightly before we both burst into laughter. Maybe John Watson will be different...
John's P.O.V
When I get outside, I can clearly see the area where Sherlock is being beaten. There are a group of other students gathered around a tree shouting, "Fight! Fight!" so it's not that hard to guess where Sherlock is. I sprint over and push past other students.
"Get out of the way!" I shout before crouching beside the boy on the ground. His nose is bleeding and broken by the looks of it, and he'll have lots of bruises tomorrow. Beside that he's gorgeous! What, John? You're not gay! Get your act together! His curls are raven and he had prominent cheekbones that made him look almost girl like with his hair.
"Sherlock? Sherlock? Sherlock?" I say over and over again in an attempt to get his attention. His eyes open and I am greeted with some of the most dead looking eyes I've ever seen. "Sherlock. How many finger am I holding up? I ask before holding up three fingers and wincing slightly. He looks empty.
"Three. Honestly. I've only got a broken nose, whoever you are, there's no need to lap 'round me like a lost puppy."I blink a couple of times before lowering my hand and staring at his injuries a little closer. "What?" He almost screams at everyone, and successfully they all start to leave us alone.
"Sherlock, I think you need to get that seen to." I can clearly see the pain he's in, though he's trying to hide it. He's doing pretty well, might I add.
"How do you know my name?" Sherlock asks me and looks down at his knuckles. I look at his hair a little closer and notice that he had hit head when he was shoved against the tree. "Well?"
"S-sorry. I'm John Watson, hi. I'm your room mate. My friend Greg Lestrade came to find me when he saw that you were being beaten by Anderson. I came down as soon as I could!" I ramble to him because that's all I can do when I'm staring at his injuries.
"You, John Watson, one of the most popular in this entire school, ran here as fast as your short legs could take you-"
"Hey, I'm not short!" I insist and hold my hands up.
"-so that you could come and stop the new boy from being beaten up because he told Anderson's girlfriend that she was being cheated on. Why would you do that? You obviously have a reputation to keep. So tell me, why did you come to help me? You don't even know me."
"How did you know that by the way?" I ask.
"It's simple, really. When I approached this tree I saw that Sally Donovan had just received a message that she was clearly flattered by because she adjusted her bra slightly before looking over towards Anderson. When she was replying I saw the name Anderson with a love heart next to it, obviously meaning that she was romantically involved with him. The fact that they were both wearing the same deodorant as each other, which is for men by the way, clearly tells me that they are sleeping together. When she replied to him he looked immediately at her and then left his girlfriend briefly in order to reply to the text. He would never risk replying in front of her, do he had to get away. When Sally received that message, she turned and he winked at her." My mouth is open wide and I'm staring at Sherlock rather embarrassingly. He's smirking slightly, but it's hardly noticeable.
"You can tell me to piss off or whatever now if you wish. I'll happily have a room that I only have." My mouth closes and I raise my eyebrows slightly. "What?" I smile.
"That was... extraordinary!" I exclaim to the boy and smile even more. Sherlock doesn't seem to believe me even though my words are whole-hearted.
"Really?"
"Yes, absolutely extraordinary."
"That's not what people normally say."
"What do people normally say?"
"Piss off, you freak." We both look at each other before we crack into a fit of laughter. Maybe Sherlock Holmes won't be as bad as everyone thinks he is. Sherlock is even more gorgeous when he smiles... For God's sake, John!