"Oi, freak!"

Sherlock didn't bother turning around. "Sally, your vocabulary is sadly limited. Perhaps I should purchase you a dictionary for Christmas, if I actually bothered enough to get you anything, which I won't."

Sally rolled her eyes. "No one cares what you bother with, freak." She slammed a file down on the table. "Here's the paperwork for the Brower case. Inspector Lestrade said to have it filled out before you leave or there'll be hell to pay."

Sherlock still didn't move, completely focused on the cold case that was spread on the table before him. "I might. Now Sally, do leave, you're putting me off."

A new voice butted in. "That's not her. You're just naturally like that, freak."

Sherlock sighed. "Anderson. Come to join the party, I see. Maybe I should buy you a dictionary as well."

Anderson snarled. "Shut up, freak. No one likes you."

Sherlock said nothing, mainly because he was suddenly unsure. But, they couldn't tell that; surely not, he thought. They weren't smart enough.

However, in the area of insults, Sherlock wasn't giving the two quite enough credit. He certainly didn't see what was coming next.

"You know what? I was in the coffee room today with the army doctor. You know what he said to the inspector? He said he hates your guts, Sherlock." Anderson was positively gleeful. "Now do you think that anyone really likes you?" Sherlock was motionless. It's just words, he thought. Just words, nothing more. Words can't hurt you.

Sally started in, encouraged by Anderson's success. "You're such a freak, Sherlock. Everyone says it. Everyone knows it. You're a freak who gets off on crime scenes." She sneered. "You're nothing. You're not even that smart."

Sherlock stood up abruptly and staggered towards the door. "You are wrong," he rasped, uneasy in every sense of the word. "John loves me." Sherlock could have cursed at himself. He and John had been in a relationship for some time now, it was true; but they hadn't yet agreed to go public.

Anderson guffawed. "You think John loves you?" He and Sally both began to laugh uproariously. "You're so stupid, freak."

Sherlock darted out the door as fast as he could. He could still hear their laughter as he reached the stairwell.

As he was running down the stairs, he saw Greg walking up. "Hey, Sherlock." He said cheerfully. "Just sent Sally up with those documents, have you gotten them…Sherlock?" Sherlock ran right past him, not acknowledging the inspector at all.

Greg turned and watched the tall man darting away. Had he been crying? No, this was Sherlock; it couldn't have been. Still, this made Greg uneasy. Sherlock had looked so…broken-hearted. He shook his head and laughed at himself. Sherlock, broken-hearted? He needed a vacation.

Sherlock ran down the street, not bothering for a cab. He was five blocks from Baker Street when the rain started, and two blocks when it began to thunder and lightning. He could see the flat, just across the street, when strong hands pulled him into the alleyway behind him.

…

John sighed, looking up at the clock. His gaze drifted to the kitchen table; he had cleaned it, and set it with dishes and Chinese takeaway, Sherlock's favorite. Sherlock had told him, no, promised him, that he would be home tonight so that they could have a real, actual meal together.

John should have known that it wouldn't happen like that. He had known when he started this whole relationship with Sherlock that things weren't going to change that much; Sherlock would still complain and not eat or sleep and keep strange body parts in the refrigerator. Just today John had visited Greg to go over some details on one of Sherlock's recent cases and ended up regaling him in the coffee room with tales of the human guts that Sherlock had brought home and put in the toaster.

He picked up the dishes, probably making more noise than was necessary, and finally ended up in his room, with his laptop and a plate of cold sesame chicken, watching an old episode of Doctor Who. He didn't know where Sherlock was, or what he was doing, but dammit, if the man wasn't even going to bother to text him when he had a change of plans he didn't care where he was.

John ended up falling asleep halfway through the credits, oblivious to the quiet moaning coming from the door downstairs.