New year
New school
New people
Same nickname.
"Get out of the way freak!" One of the boys shouted in passing, pushing Sherlock into the lockers making him drop his books. That's all he ever was and always will seem to be, the freak. Sighing he reached down and started to collects all the pages and books that were now scattered on the floor. No one stopped to help, why would they? Help him? Sherlock Holmes? Were you mad? Sherlock didn't want or need any help for that matter, standing back up straight he slowly started walking to the music room.
It was the first week of school and already he was the school freak. Well it's hardly his bloody fault he's so observant. Maybe if everyone wasn't so incredibly dull and stupid he might not humiliate them as much. Sherlock was entering his last year of A Levels, he was doing 5 which was fairly impressive, Chemistry, Maths, Biology, IT and Music (Mummy's idea). He moved slowly down the hallway, making his way down to the other end of the school. As much as he enjoyed chemistry, music was quickly becoming his favourite subject, he could block everyone out and focus on the melody.
Oh come on, not again!
He thought to himself as Anderson shoved him against the wall the rest of his gang just smiling and laughing, "You better take back what you said yesterday freak!" he snarled at Sherlock. Still he tried not to stutter in front of them, but he was cut off from replying when Sally Donovan butted in, "Hey freak, still lonely as ever I see." Sherlock just smirked, "Hello Sally, not make it home last night?" There it is, he inwardly smiled. Sally was dumbstruck, not that that was new.
Turning back to the man handling him, "Anderson, girlfriend back from Spain yet?" Anderson dropped his hands from Sherlock's collar "You didn't work that out just now, somebody told you!" Anderson hissed at him. Sherlock's smirk only got wider, "No your deodorant told me." confused he asked "My deodorant?" Straightening the lapels on his coat he replied "It's for men." "Well of course it's for men, I'm wearing it." Slipping out of arms reach Sherlock laughed, "Yeah, but so's Donovan." then he winked and ran down the now empty hallway.
He locked himself in the practice room at the back of Miss Fitzpatrick's room. She is... tolerable, lets him use the practice room during his study classes and doesn't ask him stupid questions. Setting his violin case on the table, he lifted out his pride and joy. Tuning the violin and placing it in the correct position is like breathing to Sherlock. He let the bow glide over the strings, taking a deep breath he began playing Vivaldi - Violin Concerto in A minor RV 356 Op 3 No 6. When Sherlock has bad days he likes to play fast, it lets him concentrate on something else entirely.
He never needs to use sheet music, as soon as he reads the sheets once he knows it off by heart. Perks of being Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock moves to his music, when he was younger he took ballet classes, quite an elegant young man. So as he plays he dances gracefully, nothing to big just small steps in time and never faltering. Finishing he quickly moves into a concerto in B minor, RV 390: II Allegro non molto. Sherlock's mind is blank, all he can do is play, this of course makes him quite vulnerable, so he doesn't notice that someone has been watching him until he finishes. Shaking his head and seeing his hair fly about he finally feels someone's eyes on him.
Sherlock whirled around to see another boy staring at him through the window, mouth slightly open, looking like shock? "It's open." he says loud for the other boy to hear him. "Sorry, uh, I was just looking for Miss Fitzpatrick."
Sherlock was studying the boy in front of him, definitely new, I would have remembered this one. Not very tall, sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, muscles, sport maybe? Football? No something with more contact, rugby perhaps? Explains the way he stands, military stance, father in the military, must be high ranking too. Shirt, wrinkled, slightly untucked, he has changed recently, must be in a hurry as he is wearing his rugby shirt underneath.
A cough interrupted his thoughts. "Hello?" Sherlock's eyes snapped up to meet his. "Free class. Try the staff room." then he turned away from the boy again, "Close the door on your way out." "Um thanks." a light shuffling of feet, click of a door and Sherlock was alone again. He didn't need to worry about missing class, Mondays were his favourite, he was free after break until after lunch, which meant 3 and a half hours of playing.
The end of lunch came sooner than Sherlock would have liked. He placed his violin in its case and put his favourite coat back on which stopped just above his knees. Grabbing his bag and the case he left the practice room, completely ignoring the looks Miss Fitzpatrick's class was giving him, he gave her a small smile which she returned and then walked out with his coat flapping behind him.
Chemistry next, he liked the subject not the teacher. Not everyone can be as clever as us said Mycroft when Sherlock was complaining about her. She didn't like how Sherlock would always correct her. Walking into the lab he was glad to see that he was the first one there, good, he sat down at the back, his usual place and took out his books and closed his eyes. Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen. It was a fun pass time, rhyming off the periodic table when he was bored. Of course rude interruption is not far away.
"Oh look the freaks already here." his concentration was shot and his eyes snapped open, a different group of guys, just as stupid as Anderson though and not worth his time. "It's always creepy when he does that." one of the boys said, trying to be quiet. Sherlock just stared at them until they got nervous and sat down, then he smiled to himself. Must you make people uncomfortable all of the time little brother? "Shut up Mycroft" muttered Sherlock, "Sorry Sherlock did you say something?" Miss What's-her-face asked, he just shook his head and looked back down to his book.
A knock came at the door and the same boy from the practice room stepped in, nervously, not important, yet somehow intrigued... "Ah yes, I was told you would be coming. You can sit down next to Sherlock there at the back." The whole class froze and looked at this boy, silent comments were passed to him as he walked passed such as "unlucky." "good luck mate." OK now Sherlock hated this teacher even more. Sherlock doesn't do partners. He moved his book out of the way to make room, the boy sat down quite nervously and the class resumed. The boy turned to Sherlock and stuck out his hand, presumably to shake and whispered,
"John Watson. Nice to see you again."
