Everything about him was a sharp contrast to the world surrounding him. His long legs were stretched out in front of him slightly as he leaned on a concrete wall, and smoke from his cigarette curled up into his raven-black hair. His dark grey school jacket was splashed against the concrete wall like paint on an artist's canvas. Sharp blue eyes glared out through his mop of curly hair as he blew smoke at a pair of innocent freshman.
"He's going to get in so much trouble for smoking on campus." John thought, glancing at the student. John hopped off the last step leading from the school's entrance. He looked behind him quickly. A teacher was behind him, watching the other students with hawk eyes. John's eyes darted back and forth between the smoking student and the teacher. He groaned quietly, and started toward the student leaning on the wall.
"I'm going to regret this..."
Sherlock breathed in deeply.
"God." He exhaled. "Maybe I need to work on cutting back a bit." He mused.
He was on his fifth cigarette and about to get a sixth when a felt a hand on his arm. He was being dragged away by a shorter student with sandy hair and worry lines already forming on his forehead.
"Come on. You can't smoke here, but I know somewhere you can, at least."
Sherlock's cigarette almost fell from his mouth.
"Who is this kid? Is he in my grade? He looks like a freshman though." He thought, but followed him anyway.
John led them to a patch of woods a little ways off from the school building. After walking through the forest for a few minutes he pulled back a few thin branches and reveled a small clearing surrounded by dogwood trees on all sides.
"Ta da! My own little world." John said, watching to see what Sherlock's reaction would be.
Sherlock was interested, even he had never found this before. But he wasn't about to let the other boy know he was impressed.
"Yeah, I know this place." He shrugged. "I come here all the time to smoke."
John grinned at him and crossed his arms. "Liar. I would know if anyone else came here."
Sherlock smirked. He liked this kid, he had a certain air about him. Sherlock could tell he always stood up for what he thought was right, no matter what the consequences, but he was a bit troubled too.
John could see him measuring him up, and decided to interrupt before he found out too much.
"Name's John Watson by the way." He smiled and held out his hand.
Sherlock stared at him for a moment, a bit irritated that John broke his concentration.
"Holmes. Sherlock Holmes." He took John's hand lightly, noting how pleased John looked.
"Well Holmes, Sherlock Holmes. Can I buy you a Coke and you can tell me what the hell you were thinking by smoking right outside the school?"
On their way to the small store down the street from their school, Sherlock found out the John can talk quite a bit. Enough for both of them, in fact, since Sherlock didn't say a word. He found out that John is in the same grade as him, that he used to live in Liverpool before moving to London, he actually hated people that smoked (Sherlock glared a bit at him at that) and he now lived just down the road from Sherlock.
When John finally stopped talking after getting his soda, he asked Sherlock;
"So, what were you thinking anyway? Smoking by the school, I mean."
Sherlock shrugged. Did he need a reason to want to get back at teachers any way he could?
John sighed. "Ok, don't answer me. Oh hey, here's my house, do you want to come in for a while?"
Not waiting for a reply he walked down the rock pathway leading to his shabby little apartment. Sherlock stared after him, perplexed and fascinated by this silly new acquaintance of his.
"Mum? I'm home, and I brought a friend over." John called into the kitchen.
"Oh wonderful dear! So glad you're making friends already." She popped her head into the hallway. "Would you boys like some tea?"
"Yes please mum."
A few seconds later Sherlock was sitting at a small table in the kitchen, and getting handed a mug of steaming tea. While trying to figure out how exactly he got there so quickly, John's mother held out her hand for Sherlock to shake.
"Nice to meet you dearie, I'm Laura Watson, John's mum."
Sherlock took her hand, feeling a bit shy. "Nice to meet you too Mrs. Watson." he mumbled.
She smiled, sensing his embarrassment. "Call me Laura, love. Now, why don't you boys take your tea up to John's room so I won't bother you too much." She winked at them, turning back to the kitchen.
"Cheers mum." John said, standing up.
Sherlock left two hours later in a daze, full of meatloaf and potatoes and tea. He wasn't really sure what had just happened at the Watson apartment, but he felt so content he hardly cared. He had been swept up in the wonderful, almost cliché, life of John Watson and his family so easily and he felt guilty when he said he needed to get home. Stopping for a few moments on the street outside his own home, he lit a cigarette, preparing for what he knew was going to happen as soon as he walked inside. Mycroft would be there at the door, the only one in the house as usual, scolding him for being so late, claiming how worried Mummy would be if she found out.
"But she's not going to find out, is she?" Sherlock would sneer back. "Because she's never here and she never cares." Then Sherlock would lock himself in his room, only coming out for school the next day.
Sherlock sighed and threw his cigarette into the street.
"I wish my life was like John's." He said out loud, hardly thinking.
John watched his mother from the stairs by the kitchen. She was pouring over bills thrown on the table, her hair disheveled, lips drawn tightly together in an effort not to cry. Even though his mother had two jobs, John knew they were barely making ends meet, but didn't expect his mother to be this worried about it. His strong sense of pride started filling up inside his chest.
"I have to do something to help." John thought.
His face lit up slightly, his clever mind forming ideas already.
"I'll just get a job too." He smiled.
"John!" Sherlock called out to him across the school yard. John ducked his head even farther than it already was. Confused, Sherlock walked toward him.
"John?"
John looked up tiredly, knowing he was caught.
"Hi Sherlock." He blushed slightly and tried to grin at him, but only succeeded in grimacing.
"I haven't seen you for weeks. Have I upset you?" Sherlock said, as blunt as ever.
John looked shocked. "No! Of course not, I liked spending time with you, but..."
"But?" Sherlock growled at John so harshly that he actually jumped at bit.
"I've just been... Busy, is all."
Sherlock glared at him. "You're lying."
"I am not!" John protested. "I've been too busy to do hardly anything."
Sherlock didn't answer for a moment. "You could have just told me you got a job at the bookstore." He scoffed. "I don't care that your family doesn't have much money, I wouldn't judge you."
John stared at Sherlock with wide eyes, his mouth open slightly.
"But... How did... How could you..." He stuttered.
"It's obvious. First, I could see that you don't have much money from your bag. 'Harry Watson' is written on the inside, fairly worn, must have been an older brother that used it before you. Obviously your mother isn't making much money, so you have to use his old things. Now the job is the easiest part. You have ink stained on your shirtsleeve and the callouses on your fingers are far more than you would get from just school alone." He reached into John's bag and pulled out a copy of an Agatha Christie novel. "Just as I thought. The bookkeeper trusts you enough now that he's letting you borrow books from the store as well as well." Sherlock finished, handing the book back to John.
John stared at Sherlock like he wasn't even real, just a ghost.
"That was... Amazing."
Sherlock blinked.
"You... You think so?"
"Of course, that was brilliant!" John was practically jumping up and down.
Sherlock smiled and tilted his head.
"That's not what people normally say." He smirked.
"What do people normally say?" John asked.
"Piss off."
John laughed, feeling relieved that Sherlock finally knew his secret. Sherlock laughed as well, glad that he finally had his friend back.