Guess who meant to post this on Valentine's Day on this site but totally forgot? Yeah... me. Oops.

The twelve children in Mister Lestrade's year three classroom were particularly raucous this day, squealing and giggling. The room itself was decorated with frilly bits of pink and red streamers, paper hearts crudely cut by small hands, and adorable pictures of puppies and kittens. The students dashed about, tucking small pieces of construction paper - often with attached candies and chocolates - into each other's white paper bags. Which were, of course, also embellished with drawings of things like hearts, smiley faces, and over and over again the phrase "Happy Valentine's Day!"

As the Valentine's party went on, a small knot of students formed on the far side of the classroom, well out of earshot of Mister Lestrade, sat at his desk. The apparent leader, a dark-haired boy called Jim, was giggling.

"Did you see his face?" he said, pleased with himself. "I gave one to Irene and I walked right past his desk to do it! He looked hopeful for a second, like he thought I would ever give him one!"

"He's such a weirdo. Always talking about crime and dying and stuff," Sally Donovan piped up, smiling when Phil Anderson nodded in agreement with her. "He probably hasn't ever got a Valentine in his life."

The group's laughter rang out through the classroom, though it was more mean-spirited than anything else. Charlie Magnussen's laugh was probably loudest, though Jim's was highest pitched. However, their malicious mirth was ignored by the rest of the class, who were occupying themselves in other ways.

Over at the next row of desks, nearer the blackboard, sat a group of six, all nibbling on candies and chatting amongst themselves.

"I dare you to eat that, Henry," the blond girl was saying, brushing back her fringe and grinning. She pushed a black twisted bit of candy toward the boy across from her.

"That's licorice, Harry!" Henry Knight objected, large ears going red. "I don't want to!"

"Go on," she coaxed. "For me?"

"Why would I fall for that?" he laughed. The others joined in the mirth, which only increased when finally, Mike Stamford reached out and plucked the licorice off the desk and popped it into Henry's protesting open mouth. The group cheered and burst into boisterous cackling as Henry sputtered and exaggeratedly chewed up the licorice, which was evidently not as gross as he made it seem; he just appeared to like the attention.

Mary Morstan was the first one to calm herself, lifting her baggie of Valentines and gasping out a few more giggles. "Come on, guys, we still have to exchange these."

They quickly swapped notes and candies with each other, joking and laughing. It was a special treat whenever they got to take a break from lessons for any reason other than lunch, so naturally mild loss of control in small children ensued. Mike, in the chaos, somehow got a candy necklace caught in Mary's hair, and several giggly minutes were spent as a team untangling her.

The hero of the day, who finally decided to just break the thin string holding the girl hostage, was the blond boy, John, who sat next to his twin sister and was sucking on a red lollipop with almost exaggerated enthusiasm. He gave a triumphant, though muffled, cry as the necklace came free. Then he made a bit of a show bowing to Mary as he presented her the broken - but more importantly, still edible - candy. She grinned and immediately began eating the remaining sugary rings with relish.

"So is that it then?" John asked, leaning back against his desk. "No more Valentines to give out?"

"I think my mum miscounted how many I'd need," Henry noted, peering into his Valentines bag. "I don't have one for him." He nodded across the room, though everyone knew who he meant without having to look.

"Well, I didn't even make him one," Harry admitted boldly. Everyone stared at her, and she raised her eyebrows challengingly. "What? You guys aren't really lining up to give him one!"

"He scares me a bit," Mary admitted. Her confession seemed to spur some of the others into reluctant ones of their own.

"Besides, Jim wouldn't let it go if we did give him one. He's the really scary one."

"Yeah, Jim's scary... But he's a little... odd, I guess."

"You mean he's a freak," Harry snapped. "A creepy little freak."

An uncomfortable silence fell. None of them wanted to agree with her, but none wanted to admit they had all thought the subject of their conversation to have loathed to have anything to do with Valentine's Day. In their minds, why should it matter if he didn't get any Valentines, since he seemed to think he was above the entire concept?

Still, Harry's words made them wonder if their decision had been a meaner one than they'd thought. Valentine's Day was about caring for people, after all. Of course, no one there wanted to dare defy the fiery Harry Watson.

"Harry," John said reproachfully after a long silence, though he kept his voice low. "You really shouldn't call him that."

"Why not? He is!"

"You know, maybe we shouldn't talk about this," Mike muttered, and Henry nodded in vigorous accord. "Did you see how awesome Molly's new painting was in art class?"

The others fell into this conversation, Harry somewhat reticently, though after a few moments all were trying to counter Molly's flustered denials. Well, all but one. In the wake of this new debate, no one noticed John was barely listening. His head was turned again, gazing across the classroom to the far corner, where one student sat alone. His Valentine's bag, unadorned except for a few bees and a large yellow smiley face, sat empty.

He had successfully steered the conversation back to safer topics, but that was what he always seemed to do when they discussed the class outcast. And as time went on, John had been becoming more and more troubled by everyone's dismissal of the problem. Jim and Charlie were tyrants, keeping a large part of their entire year in their thrall. Still... the vacant, bee-adorned bag just looked so wrong.

Maybe ignoring it wasn't good. Maybe it would be better to do something about it.

After all, it was Valentine's Day.

Who cared what crazy Jim and creepy Charlie thought?

Sherlock had always known Valentine's Day was a stupid holiday, but never had he seen so much evidence to support that. It was just a silly day to eat lots of candy and pretend to like people even when you don't really. That is, assuming people made the effort at all.

He glared around the room at all the hearts they had cut out. Stupid. That wasn't even what a real heart looked like. Yesterday, after he and the other students had been given the assignment, Sherlock had asked Mister Lestrade if he could make an anatomically correct heart with the ventricles and everything, but his teacher had gently explained that the cartoon hearts were for Valentine's day and the correct hearts were for science. Sherlock had scowled and given in, though the conversation had only gone to prove that Valentine's Day had no scientific purpose, and therefore no useful purpose at all in Sherlock's mind. Still, he had done his so-called assignments the day before, which had consisted of cutting out the paper "hearts" and decorating his bag, but the entire time he firmly maintained in his mind that all this was pointless.

Now, on the afternoon of their short Valentine's party, he felt a funny thing in his chest, especially when he looked at his empty bag. It was like something was squeezing his real heart, and it didn't feel good. Was this a side effect of Valentine's Day? He'd never been to a Valentine's party before, or exchanged Valentines before, so he wasn't sure. Obviously he would need to complete more trials to verify the hypothesis, but he would of course have to wait a whole year for the holiday to happen again. Still, the empty Valentine's bag made his heart do funny - but not fun - things.

He looked up when Mister Lestrade called from his desk, "Five minutes, kids! Then I want you back in your desks so we can do a little more spelling before the end of the day. And don't eat too many candies." he added with a smile, as if he knew this warning was going completely unheeded.

He glanced around the room and momentarily caught Sherlock's eye. He cocked his head as if to say are you doing alright? Sherlock gave him a mostly-convincing smile, and to his relief, the teacher turned away. Behind him, Sherlock heard Jim and his awful friends start talking again, and he heard himself mentioned. Again.

They never seemed to stop ridiculing him, even though Jim was way creepier and meaner. Sherlock just liked crime, what was wrong with that? It didn't make him a freak...

Oh. He gazed around the room again, and saw everybody talking with somebody else. All of them had Valentines in their bags. None of them had ever been called freak.

That was it. Sherlock was a freak, so no one liked him, so no one gave him any Valentines. It was obvious.

His heart did the funny thing again in his chest, making his breath catch and making it feel like he was choking. His eyes got wet all of a sudden, and he blinked the moisture away, hoping no one noticed. Why would they, though? He was the class freak; no one cared if he didn't feel as happy as they did.

He tilted his head up slightly, hoping the new angle would stop his eyes from welling up, but instead found himself facing the paper hearts again. Seeing them, seeing the lie they stood for, made his breath catch again and a tear slide down his cheek.

Stupid Valentine's Day. Stupid Valentine bags. Stupid, stupid, stupid hearts!

Sherlock didn't need all that, he decided as he swiped the back of his hand across his face in an effort to erase the evidence of his tears.

He didn't need a heart.

"Hey," a soft voice said, startling him. He whipped his head up and, blinking through his teary vision, saw the boy Watson standing uncertainly beside Sherlock's desk.

"What?" Sherlock asked, so surprised by the boy's presence he forgot to sound disinterested.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," John replied, biting on his lower lip and absentmindedly fingering the hem of his shirt. "You're sitting here all alone on Valentine's Day."

"Because it's an insipid holiday."

"What's insipid mean?" John asked, a curious crease appearing between his eyebrows.

Sherlock used his sleeve to surreptitiously wipe the corner of his eye. "It means stupid."

"Oh," John nodded. "I guess not knowing that makes me kind of insipid."

Sherlock felt his lips tug upward in spite of himself. "I guess. But you're not as insipid as some. I've heard you answer questions in class before. You're not too bad."

John looked a bit pleased, if Sherlock was reading his expression correctly. "Thanks. I've always thought you were smart."

Sherlock nodded, and John smiled. "What are you doing in this class anyway?" he asked. "Since you're so smart?"

"My mummy wanted me to learn 'social skills'," he made air quotes with his fingers around the last two words. "I can't see that it's working very well. I'd be better of at least a year or two ahead."

John glanced around the room at the other kids, most of whom were still studiously ignoring Sherlock's existence, though a few were clearly wondering what was happening between the two of them. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about how my sister Harry sometimes treats you. Especially today. I don't know if you heard what she said-"

"She called me a freak," Sherlock interrupted. "I've heard that before."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. She's just... kind of not good about Valentine's Day. My daddy left... well, he left mummy last year on Valentine's Day. We haven't heard from him since. So Harry's been in a really bad mood this whole week."

Sherlock stared at John, surprised. "I didn't know," he said, swallowing. "I'm sorry."

John shrugged, though Sherlock was sure he was still sad. "It's okay. He wasn't super nice. I just wish mummy didn't miss him so much."

He looked down at his feet while Sherlock watched him. Then, his gaze landed on Sherlock's Valentines bag. "You like bees?"

Sherlock bit his lip. "Yeah. They're interesting."

"Yeah," John agreed quietly. "The queen and the hive and all that. Harry hates them because once I dared her to kick a hive and she got stung three times. It was a lot scarier than I thought it would be, so I've been kinda avoiding them. But I guess they are pretty cool when you really think about them."

"They're fascinating. And good for the environment. And harmless, unless you kick their house."

John giggled, and Sherlock smiled back. "True. I'll be nice to them from now on. Though I doubt Harry will like that I think they're okay now."

Sherlock shook his head, rather amused at how easily John had changed his mind. "Liking bees is just another reason she thinks I'm a freak. The others too, probably."

John's happy expression faded, and he regarded Sherlock with solemn eyes for several long moments. "I don't think you're a freak, Sherlock," he said.

Before Sherlock could find his voice to reply, however, Mister Lestrade called the class to order. The rest of the day - an easy and therefore boring lesson on spelling and parts of speech - was a blur to Sherlock, who instead of listening, doodled bees on his paper and watched John out of the corner of his eye. John seemed to be paying only a little more attention than Sherlock, working on something clandestinely under his desk.

The bell rang fifteen minutes later, and Sherlock stalled by his desk as the other students dashed for their coats and backpacks. He didn't fancy having another confrontation with Jim or Charlie Magnussen, or any of the other morons in that group. So he slowly peeled the tape off the desk where it had secured his Valentine's bag, listening absently to the chatter of his classmates.

But the sight of his empty bag almost made him well up again. Just because he'd had one good conversation with John didn't mean the day was a success. He'd still have to explain to mummy why he came home with an empty bag, after going to school with Valentines of his own to give out.

"Sherlock?"

He turned just as he was folding the bag into his pocket to find John standing there again. The classroom was empty other than them, Harry, and Mister Lestrade now. John was watching him, his cheeks bright red, and he was holding out a piece of red paper to Sherlock.

"This is for you. And if you ever wanna sit with us at lunch, that would be good," he blurted, smiling in a simultaneously embarrassed and eager way. "I like you."

Sherlock wordlessly took the paper from him and nodded his thanks. John gave a little wave as he joined his sister and they left the room together, Harry giving Sherlock an uncertain but for once non-hostile look as they did.

Mister Lestrade approached him then, holding out his coat and pirate backpack. "Did John give you a Valentine?"

Sherlock nodded, fingers shaking around the paper. He couldn't bring himself to unfold it and look yet, so instead he shrugged on his coat and slung his bag over his shoulder.

"That's nice of him," Mister Lestrade said, and Sherlock suddenly realized his teacher probably knew Sherlock had only got one Valentine. "He's a good boy," the man continued. "You should spend more time with him."

Then, he handed Sherlock another paper. Sherlock looked down and gasped in delight. It was a full page of bee stickers. He looked back up at the man, a delighted grin fighting its way onto his face.

"Thank you."

Mister Lestrade smiled. "Happy Valentine's Day, Sherlock."

"You too, sir," Sherlock said shyly as he left the room. Out in the corridor, he paused, running his fingers over the bees and found to his joyful amazement that they were textured stickers, the bee's bodies slightly fuzzy just like real bees. On the back of the sticker page was written in Mister Lestrade's scrawl the words "bee-lieve in yourself, Sherlock."

Sherlock didn't even mind the pun.

Then, after carefully slipping the stickers into his bag, he turned the Valentine from John over in his hands. It was that moment he noticed the candy taped to the back of the red paper. Unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth, he nearly laughed aloud. It was a honey-flavored candy.

The Valentine itself was another crudely cut non-heart, slightly lopsided on the left side. There was a smiley face, obviously inspired by Sherlock's own Valentine's bag, and in messy penmanship, John had written:

To Sherlock,

Maybe this keepsake will give you a happy memory of this day.

Happy Insipid Valentine's Day, new friend!

~ John

Sherlock felt his chest do that funny squeeze thing again, but this time it didn't hurt. Instead it felt soft, the words on the paper entering his mind palace and warming it, as if he had been hugged. He clutched the paper heart to his chest and grinned.

Maybe Valentine's Day wasn't so bad after all. Or maybe... maybe it was John that wasn't so bad.

This hypothesis required further testing. Which meant Sherlock would have to talk to John again soon. Once more, the warm-soft-huggy feeling surged in him, and his heart almost fluttered. Yes, John must be the good thing.

Of course, he would have to do multiple trials to prove it.

The End.

So I literally wrote this in a day, and I've never done child POV. Please review and let me know what you thought! Reviews are like candy and fuzzy bee stickers to me! :)