Forgettable/Unforgettable

"Laurie, don't be offended by anything Sherlock says. That's just Sherlock," Lestrade began informing me as we climbed the stairs to the apartment that held the dead body I was called in to examine. "He will be rude and may very well slam the door in your face. At least, he did with our last analyst, 99% of the time, give or take. Don't take it personally."

But I just snorted through my nose. "Thanks, but I know how to take it. I went to secondary with him. Sounds like he hasn't changed."

His mask of disdain and arrogance was worn across his face like the way girls in upper school wore their makeup… it took an outsider to realize just how fake those girls were, and how fake Sherlock Holmes was. And that outsider was definitely me, the low income kid from the wrong side of town.

Lestrade held the door open for her and closed it behind them. "You went to secondary with Sherlock? You know him better than all of us then! And he was just as much an arrogant arse as he is now?"

I was about to answer him, when a mop of curly dark hair caught my eye. Sherlock was already there and after about nineteen years, it was quite the shock to me. His face was about two inches from the dead mans' but he didn't react to our walking in, though good for me because it gave me a moment to take him in.

Bloody hell, how has he grown! He's got about a head on me now, looking like all legs. He was bent, but thanks to a billowing coat, I couldn't make out much more of his body. Sherlock straightened up with a loud sigh.

"And I thought I left all those idiots behind in school," he said, turning to face me, before his eyes widened ever so slightly- just slightly enough if I hadn't already taking in his unusual color eyes, I wouldn't have completely missed it. In nineteen years you forget the details of eye colors, though I'm not sure how I ever did.

"Good to see you again, too, Sherlock," I replied, rolling my eyes, before answering Lestrade's question. "Yeah, it doesn't seem he outgrew his arrogant arse-iness."

"I don't recall going to school with you." A feign look of confusion scrunched up Sherlock's face as he responded.

I shot him a mirroring look, though mine was genuine. I know we were never friends. We didn't have friends. But that didn't mean we didn't always have each other, and that didn't mean I didn't always wish we were.

"C'mon, Sherlock," I rolled my eyes again before saying my name, feeling ridiculous, "Ruth Laurie. We were often lab partners. We even ate lunch together most days!"

"Deleted," he shrugged, before grasping his hands behind his back. His chin pointed, he looked around the small room one more time. When his eyes got to me, they looked right through me. It was like I suddenly turned invisible.

"Deleted?" I sputtered, and Lestrade gave me a worried glance, and opened his mouth to cut in.

"Sherlock-" but unfortunately Sherlock was already answering and didn't listen to the DI, which by the look on Lestrade's face made me feel like it happens often.

"If it's not important to remember, I delete it from my mind," Sherlock answered simply.

"Laurie, just ignore-" Lestrade put in, shooting daggers at Sherlock, and he just shrugged with innocent eyes, but it was me cutting him off this time.

"Okay, yeah, I was wrong. Him being an arrogant arse overgrew him. It must be all he is now," I snapped, color flushing my cheeks at his behavior. It was always awkward to think someone was who they weren't… but this was definitely Sherlock Holmes and Sherlock Holmes definitely knew me.

But it was like I hadn't said anything and so I tried to say something that would grab his attention. "I'll reiterate what I meant earlier: nobody wanted to work with Sherlock. Just as well, nobody wanted to work with me, but not because I was the start of all the primary school drama. And we only ate lunch together because as the only few not part of a clique there wasn't many other seating options."

Still nothing.

"Freak can't remember the only girl who'd choose to talk to him, probably ever, but can tell your life story from the way you tucked in your shirt that morning," Sally Donovan snorted from the corner of the room.

I let out a breath, guided so perfectly by my bottom lip that I felt it blow my bangs around. It's been nineteen years since this feeling was used, but it took less than five minutes to feel it again. A sense of protectiveness overcame me and I did what I did best. I defended, "Well, I may have been forgettable, but he surely wasn't. Freak? He was more feared. Relationships never lasted more than a couple months. Tests were never cheated on. And if Sherlock couldn't pick apart a relationship, they lasted most of school. Some got married! By the end of it, people actually came to him! It was quite amazing. How do you became the most hated but the best in the school?"

Sherlock's eyes finally flicked back to mine, and held them. His eyebrows scrunched into an unrecognizable expression, but I just held his look in a dead lock.

The door behind me bursted open with cries of, "Sorry! Sorry I'm late. Mary had me doing something or the other for the wedding..." We all turned as a shorter man with sandy hair entered the room.

He stood for a moment and shifted his feet awkwardly, feeling the tension in the room. "Oh. Oh! Right. Obviously I'm needed. Whatever it was, Sherlock, it was Not Good. And you need to apologize."

"I only want apologies if they're genuine and those kind of things normally aren't, coming from Sherlock," I said in a low, controlled voice. I was honestly hurt by Sherlock but the best thing to do is act like you aren't. It's all a game to him and oh, am I rusty.

"Well, I'm genuinely sorry Sherlock has done something to offend you, if that helps any," the newcomer said to me, before sticking out a hand. "Doctor John Watson. Believe it or not, Sherlock's my friend."

"Colleague!" Sherlock put in with a huff, feeling a bit dampered, I suppose.

I shared a knowing look with Watson and rolled my eyes for the what-th time since Sherlock has been back in my life? "Ruth Laurie. Believe it or not, I used to go to school with that bugger over there," I introduced myself, taking his hand. "I've heard you're also Sherlock's handler. Among other good, better things, of course."

John sighed warily. "I was trying to retire from that title, you know, since I'm getting married and all, but Sherlock's an impossible man. I feel like a parent most days than not."

"At least you know you can handle kids since you've had Sherlock in your life," I joked, causing the doctor to let out a chuckle.

"Okay, now that everyone has been acquainted to the new forensic- Laura, no, Laurie- but there's still the body in the middle of the room and I've got better things to do with my time if we're going to talk about unimportant things and not address this situation at hand. That I have already solved, I might add, and have you even looked at the body yet, Laurie?" Sherlock said, and I swallowed, trying on the impassive face he has mastered.

"So, the Great Sherlock has spoken and now we must obey?" I asked out of the corner of my mouth when everyone redirected their attention to the task at hand. I may have been feeling a bit salty.

"Basically, yeah," Donovan muttered to me.

"The quicker you accept this, the best off you'll be," Sherlock answered, before going off in a breathless spill, explaining the exact thing that as a forensic specialist, should be my job. I wonder if the previous forensic ever felt this useless...

As I bagged potential evidence for testing, I thought about the history Sherlock and I have, and I realized I did have a lot of ammunition on him. He wasn't quite the man he was today and I saw the things that caused the changes, and I saw a lot of other things that would possibly make him uncomfortable that I knew… maybe he needed more reassuring his secrets were forever safe with me.

I got his number off Lestrade and I texted him once I was in a cab, heading to my flat.

Look, Sherlock, I know school wasn't always the best of times… but your secrets are still safe with me. – R

I sent the text, feeling guilty I told as much as I did of his upper school experience. And the way Sally dove straight in on that! I completely set her up when I spent four years promising I would never hurt him. I looked outside at the glistening city. Despite Sherlock's shouts of 'colleague' I know he's changing yet again. For even though I had all the makings of a friend, Sherlock didn't have the capacity to be one, but it took me too long to realize that.

I leaned my head against the cabbie's window. But somehow John Watson has shaped Sherlock into someone who has friends.

I want to know how he did it.

Branching out of my normal fanfic fandoms here! I have loved me some Sherlock for about three years now, but I've been too scared to write one of my own haha I'm currently on my seventh run of the series and thought, 'what the hay'… and so Ruth was formed! Title from Mercy by Shawn Mendes aka my recent song obsession. I've had it on repeat for two days straight. xD well let me know what you're thinking so far by replying! I appreciate your time xx Anna

PS. Faceclaim is Krysten Ritter :)