Sherlock Holmes was a very peculiar child. He was not, however, completely alone in the matter. James Moriarty was just as odd and different in his own way. The two were strange, everyone knew it and tried their best to avoid the children, not that either Sherlock or James would have anything to do with the likes of such simple creatures.

It was by strange circumstances that Sherlock befriended John Watson. The boy, John, was very simple. He liked cloud shapes and kittens, jam and naps, jumpers and books. Naturally an outcast, for he did not function as the others did, he did not wish to play in the dirt with Anderson or play tag with Sally, he simply wanted to observe. This is what intrigued Sherlock the most, this little boy that was his same age who just happened to stand out amongst all the bland ones.

"'Lo, my names John." This was the phrase that caught Sherlock off guard as he sat hunched over a rather fine specimen, observing. John wasn't afraid to speak to him, was not afraid of the 'cooties' Sally claimed he had. This made a small part of Sherlock very happy, though he would never say it did.

He made no response but did not protest as John took a seat next to him, both now looking at the pristine flower before them. It was almost the end of recess when John spoke again, "What are we doing?"

Despite himself, Sherlock looked up and met Johns gaze, the boy had said 'we'. He had included himself in Sherlocks little game, in all honesty Sherlock himself had completely forgotten what he was doing, too busy thinking why a nice boy like John had wanted to spend time with him of all the other second graders.

"I, we are observing this flower." Sherlock responded, his tiny voice unsure of what John would say next. It was not natural for Sherlock to be worried, nor was it natural for him to wish very much that this boy, John, would maybe not mind keeping him company. It dawned on him as John formed a small little 'o' with his mouth and continued to stay by Sherlock's side that it would be okay to maybe let someone be his friend.

James Moriarty had the same difficulties as Sherlock. He did not wish to be grouped in with the boring children, because he was not like them. Even if his IQ suddenly dropped he would still be exceptionally smarter than the rest of these bumbling, giggling, silly children that he happened to share a classroom with.

He had no friends and that is how he wished it to stay. As far as third graders went, he was possibly the most antisocial. Whenever Greg would ask James about joining their game of hopscotch, James would decline. If Molly came to ask him to join her for a bit of chalk doodling on the pavement he would simply shake his head and turn away. James did not like games unless they were with an equal, or someone he could control.
This is when he met Sebastian Moran. See, Sebastian functioned under the same circumstances. He was a sad boy, too fragile at most times. To James, he looked as if he were going to fall apart if someone spoke in his general direction.

But as with every story, one must listen to both sides to get the full picture.

Sebastian's parents were killed in combat, he was sent to live with his grandmother; he did not like it there. Her house smelled of cats and the strongest tea, it nearly burned his nose from all the spices.

It wasn't that he was fragile, so much as he did not want people treating him as such. No matter what he tried to do the other children would speak to him as if he were damaged. Most often he was grouped in with the girls which upset him very much. He was not going to fall apart.

James thought he would fall apart too, but then he saw something one day.

Sebastian was reading, there was a smile on his face and he seemed to be at ease. There wasn't a tortured look in his eyes and he didn't look like he would fall apart. So James did something impulsive, maybe even stupid.
He walked over to Sebastian, "What are you reading?" He asked, naturally he was curious.

The boy with the dark hair and green eyes looked up at him, his face was puzzled. No one ever spoke to him like that, so simple and so curious. All the others never asked him questions aside from 'are you okay Seb?' Or 'how's your day Seb?'.

This was why it took Sebastian a moment to answer, but James was stubborn and wasn't going to wait all day for someone to answer a simple question. He wanted an answer. "Well," he prompted, "you going to answer or just sit there?" His tone wasn't frustrated, more impatient than anything else.

Something like relief flooded Sebastian, as he responded saying he was reading Grimms Fairy Tales.

This got a laugh from James and a frown from Sebastian, "What's wrong with my book?" The green eyed boy asked.

James promptly told him that he was reading a girls book to which got him to laugh even more upon saying it. Sebastian was not pleased, who did this boy think he was? Telling him that his book was for girls.

Seb continued to argue with this boy, until both were practically shouting. Sebastian pinched James, the boy exclaiming "ouch!", the last thing he'd expected was for Sebastian to do something like that. James was not someone that let things like that go, he pinched Sebastian right back.

Instead of Sebastian looking hurt he seemed happy, and started to laugh.
For the first time in a while someone was treating him normally. He loved this feeling. James looked at him oddly as Sebastian laughed. Once the fits of laughter had subsided, Sebastian straightened and put his hand out.
"I'm Seb."

James shook his hand, this was also odd. James did not appreciate physical contact of any sort not did many third graders shake hands.
"I'm James."

Upon entering the sixth grade, John and Sherlock were closer than ever. Of course, Sherlock at this point had begun to become increasingly arrogant and John had to keep him from disagreeing with their maths teacher. These days were quite stressful for both boys, made only worse by the fact that they were now the schools resident oddballs since James and Sebastian were not in the same school, both having moved up to the next grade.

Sherlock was the prime target. With John by his side he was now more fortunate that his friend was more capable of finding others to join and support them. Greg Lestrade was a boy their same age, he was quiet nice and Sherlock even found him tolerable; most days.
The next to join their support group was a tiny girl with wiry hair all mussed from running around the playground, her name was Molly Hooper. She was friendly and her mum made the best cookies.

They were all a happy group, even Sherlock didn't mind the extra attention as Greg would ask for help with homework or when Molly would suggest they played double Dutch; Sherlock would hold the role in protest but John could see the faint smile that would appear before being brushed away, replaced once again by his friends stoic manner.

As far as Sebastian knew, seventh grade would surly be the death of him. James spent most days tormenting the upperclassmen, how does that even happen? Somehow, despite Sebastian's chiding, James managed to ensure no one picked on them for being at the bottom of the food chain now.

It was difficult. Six classes and Sebastian only had two with James. Their friendship was strong and neither boy had managed to connect with other children the same as they did with each other. Sebastian didn't like being without his friend, this strange attachment was frowned upon by teachers and students alike.

Apparently codependency was not healthy.

They just didn't understand. James thought everyone else was stupid; boring. Sebastian was mistreated by everyone else, which only helped his anger issues grow even worse.

James had not expected to enjoy seventh grade as much as he had. Sebastian had recently taken to calling him 'Jim', if anyone else had tried referring to him as anything but James, well, who's to say what would have happened.

Similarly, James started calling Sebastian 'tiger'. After a very interesting files trip to the zoo where Sebastian had stated transfixed at the cage with a pure white tiger in it.

James had left to wash off the apple he'd brought as a snack and upon returning he found Sebastian doodling in a small sketchbook. There was a smile on Sebastian's face that made Jim want to actually inhale in physical contact and punch his friends checks.

He sat on the bench right next to Sebastian and quietly ate his apple. Sebastian was content to sit and draw with Jim quiet by his side.
The pair sat there for a long time. Jim finished with his apple and at this point Sebastian was done with his drawing.

"Let's go, Tiger." Jim said with a tilt of his head. Sebastian was all too eager to follow.

This wasn't the worst they had assumed seventh grade to be like.