A wonderful thank you to the amazing DrSlug on deviantart. With her permission, this is a fanfic version of her mind blowing comic series you can see here. Also feel free to check out her other series, Monsieur Charlatan. Both series are phenomenal. PLEASE check out her work. Both of us disclaim, as we do not own any rights to Sherlock Holmes, and we hope you enjoy!
A short blond sat nervously in the main office of his new school, with his schedule in hand. It was odd, transferring. It seemed like he had to start all over again, making new friends and all. Thankfully, none of the students were in uniform today, so there was some comfort there. Not to mention an intern in the administrative department was willing to show him around… Or at least so they said.
It was 10 o'clock. He had arrived an hour prior that Friday morning with his mother and sister to finish up paperwork and such. Both family members had left approximately a quarter of an hour ago, as the younger sibling was 13 and would be attending school at the intermediate level. Rules, of course, had been gone over by Headmaster Lestrade, and the teen was more than willing to follow. He glanced down at his schedule again, trying to memorize the order of his classes while he was waiting.
"Good morning, Mr. Watson."
The blond jumped in his seat, looking up at a young man who seemed to be in his early twenties. "Oh! Er- hello, sir." He replied, half out of manners while the other half from habit. If this was the intern, he certainly seemed to take his job quite seriously with his suit pressed and neatly combed auburn hair.
"Anxious are we?" Was he mocking him? Or was it merely the teenager's imagination? Before the shorter could reply, the authority figure continued. "No need to tell me. I know you are. Neat appearance, thus, wanting to make a good impression on the first day. Your schedule is highlighted accordingly to make it easier to read, thus, unfamiliar with the new format. You're bouncing your right leg subconsciously, which usually translates to concentration or nerves. Given the situation, I would opt to suggest nervousness. Now, shall we?"
The boy got to his feet, following the taller out the door and into the corridor. "I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Watson."
"John." The blond corrected quickly, much to his embarrassment. "You have, sir?" John asked, not knowing what to say.
"Mycroft." The twenty three year old corrected in turn. "There's no need to be formal for now. I'm invisible to the vast majority of the students, and all I really do is file, copy, and distribute paperwork for the time being." He seemed a bit offended by the job. "May I?"
John handed Mycroft his schedule, watching as the elder's eyes flickered across the page. "Well, done, John. You prove to be quite intelligent, if your classes are anything to go by."
The two continued down the corridors, Mycroft walking John through his schedule. If a professor wasn't busy, they would pop in and say hello, allowing John to introduce himself. In the thick of things, John couldn't help but hear a clamor of students out on the grounds over Mycroft's droning… He would admit that the brunet meant well, but was all of this really necessary?
"Who's laughing now, eh?
"Mycroft?" The blond asked, pausing to look out a pair of doors. There was quite the crowd, and in the midst of them was a tall, lanky boy with curly dark hair being bullied by an older, more muscular student who was apparently a rugby jock.
"Hmm?"
"Sorry, Mycroft, but who is that fellow in trouble over there."
The brunet didn't seem to be overly concerned with the apparent riot. "Oh… That would be my brother."
There was laughter and the same word seemed to be jeered throughout the crowd repeatedly. Freak.
John, on the other hand, was becoming more and more aggravated by the second as Mycroft simply stood by; doing absolutely nothing to help in a situation such as this. "Er- Aren't you going to help him?" He asked, as if it should be a completely natural and logical thing to do.
Mycroft simply laughed, as if it were a socially acceptable thing to do to watch your younger brother being bullied. "Help him?" He asked, tone suggesting that helping others in that sense was an entirely ludicrous thing to do. "Just watch."
"Who's the idiot now, Freak?"
Just as the jock went to launch himself at his victim, the leaner boy leapt to his feet from his position on the ground.
"Oh, now don't take that personally, Murray." The curly-haired boy said casually, spreading his feet apart and moving into a fighting stance. "You're all idiots!"
There was a spark in his eye. Mischief? Victory? John honestly couldn't tell. The other boy's gaze was cool and calculating, icy blue eyes full of life and ferocity. Before anyone had time to blink, a fist collided with the rugby player's face. Mycroft's brother pulled his hand back only to clap both ears simultaneously with an oddly satisfying 'smack'. Rapidly readjusting his stance, his foot swiftly met the bully's bullocks.
The boy referred to as Murray collapsed to the ground with a dull 'thud', groaning as he held his lower regions; his 'victim' standing triumphantly above him and blocking out the sun. A new wave of murmurs spread through the crowd, including anything from the usual 'Freak' to 'Get the Headmaster'.
John, however, simply stood there in silence, entirely unknowing of what to make of the situation. Was this actually allowed? Couldn't be. But who would get punished for it: Trevor for being the bully or Mycroft's brother for defending himself? Somehow, deep inside, it didn't matter. The blond was always one for justice (when properly served, that is), and absolutely couldn't help himself as he cupped his mouth with one hand and punched the air with the other.
"Woo-hoo! You showed him, mate!" He exclaimed, not entirely caring about the odd silence that had settled upon the grounds or the estranged looks everyone in the vicinity was giving him. It was now Mycroft's turn to act surprised, as he just stared at John in shock with a raised brow. Apparently, no one really cared much about his brother.
The boy turned around to find the source of the exclamation, his icy gaze falling on the short blond. Silently, he walked over, a smug smile spreading across his face. It was then when the transfer student was able to get a better look: high cheek bones, an air of independence as well as confidence, and finally dark messy curls that made him seem slightly childish even though he was in fact John's age.
"Making new friends, Mycroft?" He questioned, baritone voice rumbling in his chest as he examined the new student.
John couldn't help himself from commenting. "Hey, there. John Watson." He introduced "Amazing technique!"
The taller boy smiled, clearly pleased with himself. "John just transferred from St. Andrew's." Mycroft explained, perhaps trying to start a conversation between the two. However, he had been beaten to it.
"Afghanistan or Iraq?" It was that same deep baritone again.
John honestly didn't know how to react. "E-Excuse me?"
"Your father." Mycroft's brother clarified, his calculating gaze scanning over his new classmate, taking in every detail. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"
The blond was simply in absolute and utter shock. "How on Earth?" However, his words only trailed off, lost in thought as how this other teen could have possibly known that. Before he had a chance to ask more questions, the other strode past his older brother.
"Laters, Mycroft"
John didn't know if the light was playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn he saw something black in in the younger sibling's hands
Mycroft casually reached into his pockets, only to draw them out in shock. "Hey! Did you steal my phone again, you twat?!" He exclaimed, whirling around to face his younger brother.
"Sherlock Holmes." The curly-haired boy introduced, holding his older brother's mobile phone in his hands, almost mockingly as he walked away. "Pleasure to meet you, Watson."
John looked between the two: Mycroft furious while Sherlock was triumphant. He could have resolved this little issue, but he took his schedule from the elder Holmes sibling and chased off after Sherlock.
"Wait!"
Sherlock turned around, a mysterious smile spread across his face as the blonde jogged up to catch up.
"You… You didn't answer my question." The transfer student said, falling into step with his new classmate.
The taller smirked. "And you didn't answer mine. Your haircut and posture say military." He explained, looking John over. "Since it seems so natural, most likely a parent. There was a slight snag in your jumper. By 'was', I mean the thread was recently poked back into place. You transferred here from St Andrew's, funds must be getting low. Clearly an average working class family. Since you didn't do much school shopping, and the thread had to be properly taken care of as the jumper is several years old. The work looks quite delicate, obviously done with smaller hands, most likely your mother. Funds low and your mother at home, which means your father is the one with military influence and is therefore not earning a regular paycheck here in the country. You're here and not on a military base with your father, which means the area must be active. Thus begs the question: Afghanistan or Iraq?"
John was in awe. "Afghanistan." He replied. "That… Was amazing."
"You think so?" Sherlock asked, raising a brow.
"Of course!" The blonde answered. "It was extraordinary. Quite extraordinary, really."
The brunet chuckled, almost darkly. "That's not what people normally say."
There was a tense moment of silence between them. "What…. What do people normally say?"
"Piss off." They laughed a little bit at the remark. "To be honest, I never thought anyone other than my brother would enjoy my deductions."
John now understood why Sherlock was different. Why everyone despised him, called him a freak. He shuddered, loathing the word now. Sherlock was incredibly intelligent, brilliant in fact, if he could read people from thy way they acted and how their clothes were. A true stroke of genius.
Sherlock glanced over at John's schedule. "So, my dear brother was showing you around the school." He noted, turning a corner.
However, the pair stopped. A polished professor, apparently a fan of Westwood suits, whom John hadn't gotten to meet yet stood in their path.
"Lovey little display, Mr. Holmes." He drawled. John could have sworn that there was a malicious glint in his eye.
"Professor Moriarty." Sherlock replied, acting bored. "What do I have the pleasure of owing you this time?"
The professor handed the genius a red slip of paper. "Detention."
"You've become quite predictable, haven't you? It's rather boring."
"Make it double." Moriarty answered. "If you're going to disrespect a professor like that."
John personally didn't enjoy the situation in the slightest. "Sherlock…" He started, keeping his voice low. "Maybe we should go…"
However, it seemed like Sherlock and the professor were too busy to notice. The moment was too intense with the stare down: the dark and light eyes penetrating into the soul of the other. John desperately wanted to get out of that situation- but the bell soon rang, bringing everyone back into reality.
"I'll see you in class." Moriarty hissed, stalking in the direction of his classroom. Students began flooding the hallways, getting ready to switch classes again.
"Right." Sherlock replied as he glanced down at John's schedule, ignoring the various students who were moving around them. "So locker then…" Immediately, he strode off, leaving John to jog in order to catch up.
"Wait!" The blond called, soon falling into step with the taller boy. "Do you even know which one?"
Sherlock kept his sharp gaze ahead, hardly giving John any recognition. "Locker set 221. They come in pairs, you see: an 'A' locker and a 'B' locker." Turning the corner, the brunet immediately came to a stop. "Since my locker is 221A, you're assigned to locker 221B. Obvious."
John simply stared at the lockers before walking over and turning the combination lock to open it. "Thanks." He answered, reaching into his school bag and pulling out what he didn't need and placed them in his locker. "So,-"
"Sherlock!"
The boys turned around, John from surprise while Sherlock from habit to see a mousey-looking girl with red hair making her way over to them. Noticing the taller boy turning to face her as well, a light blush immediately rose to her cheeks.
"Sherlock, I was hoping I'd find you here. You left this in the chemistry lab yesterday." She said, handing him a small black case. "You seemed to be in a rush, so I decided to hang on to it for you until I saw you again… I didn't look inside or anything. Then again you make it quite clear you don't like others going through your belongings."
Sherlock looked the girl over up and down before taking the case from her and securing it in his rucksack. "John, this is Molly. Molly Hooper: practically the only student here that isn't thoroughly irked by my presence." He introduced, tone bored like he was being forced.
"And I'm Sherlock's lab partner." Molly seemed awfully proud of the fact.
The brunet huffed. "Only because you're not a complete and utter idiot like the rest of the school. Besides, the pairs were assigned in alphabetical order, so there wasn't exactly a choice in the matter."
The redhead smiled. "Nice to meet you, John…"
"Watson. John Watson." The shorter introduced, extending a hand out towards her.
"Well, it's very nice to meet you John Watson." Molly concluded, beginning to smile brightly now as opposed to the shy one from earlier. "I guess we have an odd number in chemistry now, so you're more than welcome to join Sherlock and me if you'd like."
John grinned, thankful to have made a few friends. "Thank you." He answered, slinging his rucksack back over his shoulder and closing his locker. "So… Moriarty. What's he like?"
"He's the one professor everyone's scared of." The redhead informed as Sherlock huff in disapproval. "Well, everyone but Sherlock. They say he blackmailed the administrative board to allow him on the staff."
The genius rolled his eyes. "Moriarty has a web of connections. It's not his fault our schools today are lacking in the ability to lead."
John was in complete and utter shock. "You're actually standing up for him? He gave you double detention, Sherlock! I've only known him for two minutes flat, and I wanted to get out of there. I'm no coward, but I know how to pick and choose my battles."
Sherlock gave the pair his trademark scowl. "God, it must be relaxing not being me. Your brains are so quiet. So vacant. Of course I'm not standing up for Professor Moriarty. I'm no idiot. We've just had a history. That's all."
"A history?!"
"Yes, John. Please keep up. Now, unfortunately, it seems I'm going to be busy this Friday as well as the next." Sherlock reminded. "Not that it's a surprise. Professors are always giving me those slips for one reason or another. However, Moriarty is the only professor I can never get out of it from." The brunet shut his locker and turned on his heel and turned back to Molly. "Looks like working on our project is going to be problematic." He answered. However, he didn't seem too phased by it. "At least until Tuesday. Looks like we'll have to rearrange our schedules to get it done during the school week."
John furrowed his brow. "When is this project due?"
"Two weeks." Molly supplied. "But we could work on it tonight after Sherlock's detention. We just got the assignment on Wednesday, so it's not like we're too far behind."
Sherlock scoffed. "We were never far behind, Molly." He answered. "I already completed laboratory research. All we have to do is put everything together. Simple. If my calculations are correct, we should be finished with this project well ahead of schedule."
However before John could put a good word in, the bell had rung and the corridors were absolutely flooded with students. The blond stood to locate his apparent new friends, but it seemed both of them had gotten lost in the crowd as well. Lost and utterly defeated, John shut the door to his locker before wandering off to his next class.
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15th October
Hey, Dad.
Harry and I started school today… Again. Shame we had to switch in the middle of the term. Oh well. I made a few friends at least. At least I think I did. Molly is really nice. I think she felt bad about leaving me at my locker because she led me from class to class the whole rest of the day. At least I'm not completely alone. There was this massive fight today when I was being shown around when I arrived. Some lithe bloke named Sherlock apparently took down a rugby player… That scares me just a tad. Thankfully I won't be playing this year with the transfer and all. He actually seems alright. Showed me to my locker, allowed me to join his group with Molly for a Chemistry project. Actually, this Sherlock is a bloody genius. Absolutely brilliant. So, yeah. School's alright. The only downside is Professor Moriarty. I've only had him for a day, and he already scares me. Thankfully, I'm not the only one. He frightens the entire school and staff. Well, apparently with the exception of Sherlock. Nothing seems to get past him, really… Anyway, I've got homework to finish. Bloody Chemistry. Apparently Professor Moriarty loves giving loads of it. I'd rather not stay up until 02:00 again studying.
Write to you soon,
John