Chapter One

Sherlock Holmes (8) lazed on his bed, reading a chemistry textbook. No one wanted him. No one even came close to wanting him. He had come to the orphanage about three years ago, and had been picked on by the kids and beaten by the orphanage owner ever since. Mycroft, his elder brother by about eight years, had promised him that he wouldn't leave his side, despite the fact that everyone wanted to adopt him. Well, that promise had been broken about eighty-six days, fifteen hours, and thirty-seven minutes ago.

Sherlock wasn't an ordinary child, although he tried to make it look that way. What had gotten him in the most trouble was when he would 'read' people, as everyone liked to call it. He would simply observe the person's appearance and deduce things from it. He wasn't by any means perfect, even he himself knew that, but the more he practiced the better he got. And who better to practice on then the people who refused to adopt him, and who he would likely never see again? London was a big place, and the chances that he would cross paths with them again, or that they would even remember him were very, very slim.

Anything he had was stolen. Books, money, clothes, food, everything. He didn't really eat much anyway, which was fortunate since the older kids always took the food the orphanage supplied him with. He also hardly ever slept… he wasn't sure why, he was just born that way. He remembered his parents being concerned, and taking him to a doctor… that's how their car ended up in the path of an out-of-control truck.

"Sherlock?" The boy looked up when he heard the soft, familiar voice of the orphanage's cook. She had always been kind to him, and she was probably the only one in the whole place that he hadn't deduced to tears yet. Well… except the orphanage owner, Scott Dallas.

She didn't need to say anything else. Sherlock knew what was going on. Someone was here, looking to adopt a little boy… again. He got up and walked into the playroom, where the other young boys were (just as he thought….), and sat in the corner before continuing his reading.

Luckily the couple who came in (God bless the child who gets adopted by those druggies) didn't notice him, and walked right by. Afterwards, Sherlock let himself be herded into the dining hall with the rest of the kids. As usual his food was taken from him almost immediately, and repaid with a punch in the arm and a few muttered insults.

He sat quietly, looking around at all the children. Idiots. All of them. Maybe he could run away…. The police would never find him. Mycroft on the other hand…. Mycroft would be able to track him down no problem, so that was off the list.

After everyone was given permission to leave, Sherlock promptly snuck past the kitchen and out the back door, plunking down against the brick wall and staring out at the busy street in front of him. There was a stack of firewood to his right, and a tall wire fence in front. He could climb over the fence in a flash, he had already done it a few times… but if he went for a walk and someone found out, he would be punished severely.

Sherlock pondered his situation. Mycroft's new parents bluntly refused to adopt him, so there was no chance of Mycroft coming back for him… he couldn't run away… so he'd just have to behave properly, shut his mouth, and pray that some half-decent couple would find some kindness in their hearts to adopt a freak like him.

His stomach gave a small growl. Great. This had to be the day that he got hungry. Sherlock chewed on his lip in thought before making a decision. He stood and quickly climbed the fence.

Not too long later he was dashing as fast as his legs would carry him down the damp backstreets of London. He finally managed to shake off the person that had been chasing him, and scaled the fence to the orphanage again. Sitting down in the same place as before, he nibbled on the small loaf of bread that he had just acquired. That was close. Too close. It'll probably be easier to steal from Tesco next time. Sherlock knew that he wouldn't have to worry about that for at least a week, but such thoughts floated through his head anyway. You can never be too prepared, right?