John looked out the window at the red brick school building as his mother pulled into the parking spot. He had always enjoyed accompanying his mother to drop off his older sister Harriet at her previous schools, but knowing that it was his turn to be dropped off made it feel a bit different. He wouldn't say he was afraid, John considered himself to be quite adventurous actually. He and his sister had already visited the exotic regions of the Amazon, the wild outback of Australia, and even the frigid mountains of the Alps all at the tender age of five and seven. Of course it was all in their imagination. One day he planned to actually see those sites, but before he could begin planning his world travels he would have to attend school.

Once the car had stopped moving, Harriet lost no time in unbuckling her seatbelt and throwing open the door. She rushed out of the car, bolting toward the school building. She did not want anyone to mistake her mother's concern over her little brother's first day of school as being for her. She had had several first days at several different schools with her father being in the military, so she knew first impressions were everything.

"You forgot you're lunch, Harriet!" Mrs. Watson called after her, getting out of the car.

Harriet turned around, face red. "Mum, it's Harry!" She wanted her new classmates to be calling her by her proper name, the one she chose for herself.

"Of course it is darling," she said absent mindedly as she handed her her lunch. She had grown used to the corrections, although she wouldn't budge on calling her by her full name. Before Harriet could run away, Mrs. Watson kissed her on her forehead and wished her a good day at school. Harriet turned around quickly and rushed away.

"Well then, you aren't going to run away from me, are you?" Mrs. Watson asked John, opening his car door.

He shook his head, and unbuckled his seat. John resisted any help his mother offered. Although it had taken awhile to get used to unbuckling himself from his car seat with his arm in an orange cast, it was much easier to perform the task than it had been when he wore a sling.

While Harriet and John had been playing in the park a few weeks back Harry spotted a wild polar bear. She pushed John down a slide headfirst, claiming later it was to save him, and didn't think twice about it until she called after him and he didn't answer. The injury had taken place before they moved, but it would still be a few days before the doctor could take off the cast.

His mother closed the door behind John and grabbed his bag.

"I can carry it," He said. He was trying to replicate the way he had heard his father speak to his fellow officers.

"I think I will do it today. And then everyday after you get to carry it."

John was too nervous to pretend to be angry with his mother for not letting him do it by himself. And besides, Harry wasn't around to tease him for it. One day of his mother carrying his bag wouldn't hurt him much.

It didn't take them long to find his classroom; it was very close to the entrance of the school. John walked slowly, trying to make sure he could remember the way there. He knew it wasn't a long way, but he didn't want to risk being lost in the future. His mother wouldn't walk him to class every day, and Harry refused to.

When John entered the classroom, he was taken aback. He wasn't sure what to expect, but it most certainly wasn't this. The walls were decorated with paper cut outs of various flowers and insects. Harriet would have most certainly not approved. Facing a chalkboard were five rows of desks, each with rounded corners and two seats. In the corner was what appeared to be a library, but it didn't look anything like the library he had at home. His family had a whole room of leather bound books, covering every subject John could imagine. These books seemed to be more of the animal variety. They were far too colorful and far too thin. The books his teacher had assembled were neatly placed in the shelves, but they were all facing outward with their cover toward the reader. John had a few books like that in his room, but he preferred stealing his sister's books.

John looked up at his mother. "Is this it?"

She nodded, and the teacher walked over to them.

"I'm Mrs. Anderson. Who do we have here?" she asked, her voice overly cheery for a Monday morning. She was a short woman, or so John thought considering how much smaller she was than his mother. Her long grey hair was a curly mess, similar to what Harry's hair looked like in the morning before Mrs. Watson dragged her upstairs to brush it.

"This is my son John," Mrs. Watson said.

"Hello John! And welcome to my class! Why don't you take a seat next to Molly over there, right where it says your name, and wait for us to start. If you want you can grab a book from the shelf. You can look at the pictures!"

John walked into the library and looked around. Nothing looked particularly interesting, but he didn't want to offend the teacher. He ended up picking up a book with a lion on the cover. He walked over to where the teacher had pointed and sat down. His mum had already placed his bag by his seat.

"It's best for you to sneak out now," Mrs. Anderson whispered. "He won't even notice you're gone."

"No, that won't be necessary," Mrs. Watson replied. "John! I'm leaving."

John walked over to her and gave her a hug. "Bye, mum."

"Bye, have a good day."

John nodded and hugged her once more before returning to his seat for good.

"He's a well behaved boy."

"Takes after his father." With that, she turned and left.

John went back to his book, but he was too shaky to try and read the words. He began to flip through the pictures instead. His father had made sure he learned how to read before school started, but it still required a lot of concentration.

"Was that your mum?" asked the girl sitting next to him.

John nodded.

"She is very pretty."

John nodded again.

"My name is Molly."

"My name is John."

There was a silence for a bit. John looked over Molly's shoulder to see what she was looking at. She had picked out a book about a white cat that appeared to be named Connie Prince.

"Do you like cats?" He finally asked, thinking of nothing better to say.

Molly looked up at him and smiled. "Yes, I have a cat named Toby."

"Does he look like that cat?"

"No, he's grey. Do you have a cat?"

"I don't have any pets."

"I'm sorry. I love my kitty. She sleeps on my bed."

"I once went to the zoo and saw a lion."

"I love going to the zoo. Were they scary?"

"No, but they were really big. They slept for most of the time."

Molly nodded and continued flipping through her book.

John began to look around. Most of his classmates had found their seats already and the last groups of parents were saying goodbye to their children. Finally class was going to start.

As the final parent left, Mrs. Anderson shut the door behind them. She walked to the front of the class and introduced herself again.

"Hello class, I'm Mrs. Anderson, and I'm going to be your teacher this year. I know we are going to have a lot of fun. Today we will try to get to know each other better…"

A tall boy at the back of the class raised his hand. He did not wait for the teacher to call on him before asking, "When do we cover anatomy?"

Mrs. Anderson cleared her throat. "Excuse me?"

"My brother Mycroft told me I won't learn anatomy this year, but I told him that he was wrong."

"You are Mycroft's brother?" the teacher asked, still confused as to how to answer the original question.

"I just told you he was my brother. Therefore, I am his brother," he explained.

"Of course you are. Well I'm sorry to tell you that I think you're brother was right. We won't be able to cover anatomy this year, but we will learn about lots of other things, like butterflies. Does anyone here like butterflies?"

John watched the boy to see how we would react. He didn't think there was anything particularly wrong with what the teacher said, but he was certain that that wasn't the answer the boy had been looking for.

Halfway through the teachers description of the butterfly she saw on her way to school, the tall boy stood up and walked over to one of the large beanie bags in the library and plopped himself down, his back facing the teacher and the rest of the class. The teacher began paying attention to him again.

"Excuse me, would you mind returning to your seat?"

"Yes."

"Please return to your seat."

"I'm fine over here."

"Go back to your seat!"

Sherlock turned his head so he could see the teacher. He looked at her for a long time, in which her face turned a bright cherry and John swore he could see her hair curl before his eyes, then stood up and made his way back to his desk.

"What is your name?"

"You can read it on my name card. Didn't you write it? I suppose it would help if you were wearing your glasses, but you left them at home again…"

"Tell me your name!"

"Sherlock Holmes."

"I would prefer, Mr. Holmes, if you sat at the front of the class from now on. Molly, would you mind grabbing your things and moving to the back? Sherlock, you can sit next to John."

Molly blushed as she gathered her things and moved to the back of the classroom, but the tall boy was unfazed.

The teacher began her introduction yet again, but John couldn't concentrate any more. He had never seen anyone disregard an authority figure in such a manner. His sister wasn't the most well behaved child, but she still managed to scrape out a little respect for the adults she felt were important enough. On the other hand, this boy didn't seem to want to make the effort.

Before long the teacher wrapped up her lecture and passed out coloring sheets to the class. She was going off on saying something about talking to their neighbors while they used them, that way they could all make friends. Once everyone had a sheet she began migrating between tables to observe their work, helping to start conversations when she could. She started in the back of the room and made her way forward. John watched her for a minute, then turned to his own coloring sheet. He had been given a picture of a hedgehog. He felt he was getting tired of the animal theme.

He reached into his backpack to try to find his crayons. There were only a handful of items, making it seem like an easy task, but the arm in his cast somehow got stuck on a spiral notebook and needed untangling. The teacher ran over at once to help him.

After he had been settled in, he opened the box of crayons he had been handed down from his sister last year. Pouring them out on the table, he found each had been crammed in the box after being thoroughly smashed. His sister Harry wasn't what anyone would describe as delicate, in fact she was quite the opposite, however she had claimed she hadn't used the crayons once since their purchase. John's mother gave them to him so they wouldn't go to waste. John suspected his sister wasn't being truthful. He turned to the boy sitting next to him.

"Would you mind if I borrow some of your crayons?" John asked shyly. He wasn't used to talking to other children, besides Harriet.

"Your brother's don't seem to be working well for you. Maybe if he had used them more than once and not allowed them to sit in his backpack for all of last year they would be in better condition. It doesn't help that he has a sugar problem either."

"How did you…?" John stammered, but the boy, Sherlock, he recalled, only pushed his newly purchased box of crayons toward him.

"They are all yours. I find coloring a waste of time." With that the boy sat back in his chair, and began looking around the room.

John was taken aback. He wasn't quite sure what to say, so he picked out a brown crayon and began coloring in his picture. As he scribbled, staying neatly between the lines, he felt the silence grow between them.

"What is anatomy?" he finally decided to ask.

Sherlock lifted a curious eye toward him. "Anatomy is the study of the human body."

"Is that what doctors study?"

"Yes, along with medicine."

"I want to be a doctor. Do you want to be a doctor?"

"I want to be a Investigator. Or a pirate." Sherlock added, tuning out of the conversation.

John had been trying to replicate the easy chatter he had had with Molly, but obviously it wasn't working. John changed tactics.

"Is that how you knew about the crayons? Are you practicing to be an investigator?" Sherlock perked up again.

Mrs. Anderson chose that moment to walk up behind him. "Why don't you color your otter, Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't even turn to face her. John was noticing a pattern with him. "There is no point to coloring."

"Nonsense. Now pick up some crayons…"

"I would rather not."

"Sherlock, am I going to have to phone your mother? This is the second time…"

"You should. Or you could go get my brother. You had him a few years ago, correct? He is just down the hall."

"You know what, I will let you not color for now, but please make sure to pay attention the rest of the day. Do you understand? John, that is a beautiful picture!" With that she began circulating the room once more, this time making sure to skip over Sherlock's table.

"My name is John, by the way."

"Obviously."

"What?"

"The teacher just said your name."

"I just wanted you to hear it from me."

"Why?" Sherlock was now facing him.

"That's how you introduce yourself."

"So you have to wait for someone to tell you their name to use it?"

"Not really, but it's what people do."

"It seems boring to me. Was it head first?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you go down head first? Down the slide?"

"What slide?"

"The one you were pushed down. Probably your brother if I had to guess"

"How did you know I was pushed down a slide?"

"It's true though?"

"Yes."

Sherlock responded with a smirk. John had spent so much time playing with Harriet (or being dragged around by her), he was beginning to feel she hadn't filled him in on what school was really like, or what other boys were like. Harry made herself out to be a bit of a tomboy, but that didn't seem enough to prepare John. He was now blushing.

"Is something wrong?"

"No." John didn't want to let him know he was embarrassed. Harry had taught him what happens then.

"Did I do it again? Mycroft says I make people feel uncomfortable."

"No. I just… really like hedgehogs."

Mrs. Anderson decided that they had all had enough of coloring for the moment. "Please keep your pictures on your desk, we will come back to them later. Now we are going to read a story."

"I can explain," Sherlock whispered. "If you want."

"Later," he said back and began putting the crayons back into the box. He might as well learn something if he was at school. He handed the box back to Sherlock, but he shook his head and refused to take them back. John instead put them at the top corner of his desk.

Thanks for reading! This is my first fanfic so be sure to review and tell me what you think!

-Hana Rose