THE STORY IS STILL IN PROGRESS AS OF SATURDAY MAY 31, 2014
chapter 1
Sherlock Holmes is eight years old. He is walking home from his first day at a new school, and some kids follow him. Of course he notices, but he ignores them because he knows what will happen if he gives them the reaction they're hoping for.
"Hey! Sherlock Homo! Where are you going?"
He kept walking, hoping they would eventually get bored and leave him alone. Obviously that was never going to happen, but he could still hope.
One of them caught up with him and pushed him down onto the sidewalk.
"Oi! Listen t'me when I'm talkin' to you!" The boy grabbed Sherlock by his collar and picked him up. It was pretty easy to do so considering Sherlock was so scrawny.
"What should we do with him, boys? I say we teach him how to respect his superiors."
You can guess what happened next.
Sherlock made it home with nothing less than multiple kicks to the stomach, scratches all over his arms and legs, bruises everywhere, a sprained ankle from trying to run but tripping, and a black eye.
Mycroft, who was thirteen at the time, heard him come in through the back door and knew immediately something was wrong. He intercepted his younger brother just before he made it up the stairs. When he saw Sherlock his face fell.
"Oh, Sherlock. What happened?"
Sherlock didn't tell him anything. Instead he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Mycroft, burying his face in Mycroft's shirt and crying for so long he lost track of time.
Skip ahead four years.
Sherlock is twelve now, and his grandmother has just passed away. He had always felt closest to her, and they talked about everything. She was always there to help him through the worst of the bullying, as Mycroft was obviously a sociopath and would gladly provide solace for Sherlock through hugs, but didn't provide much advice other than the usual "don't get involved."
Sherlock had made some friends through his science class at school, but they were soon influenced by the students who picked on Sherlock. They quietly drifted away and Sherlock was left with no one.
Fast-forward two more years.
Sherlock is fourteen. The bullying has increased tenfold by this point, now featuring death threats, slurs, being told to kill himself… You know, the usual.
Mycroft doesn't live at the house anymore. Now he's interning at some low-level government office and living in the city. He rarely comes to visit nowadays.
Sherlock really does have no one to turn to now, and he turns to self harm as a coping strategy.
What's the big deal? He thinks. It's just a few scratches, and it keeps me distracted. Nothing wrong with that, right?
Four years.
Sherlock is eighteen. He's started to take after Mycroft, thinking it's probably easier to not let emotions control him. "Don't get involved, Sherlock." The voice echoes inside his head from time to time.
He still self harms.
Nine years this time.
Sherlock is twenty-seven. He's working in cooperation with Scotland Yard now, specifically with Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. They get along fairly well.
Sally and Anderson, however, are a different story. Their presence definitely causes a significant decrease in Sherlock's mood and confidence.
He still self harms.
Three years.
Sherlock is thirty years old.
He has just met John Watson.
He still self harms.