Seventeen-year-old Sherlock Holmes hated school, but he hated the school holidays even more.
At school he was called names and bullied on a daily basis by his fellow students. They labelled him 'The Teacher's Pet', 'Geek' and 'A Freak'.
The name-calling and the occasional fisticuffs didn't bother him, he'd retaliate by deducing them within an inch of their lives, generally leaving them shocked, stunned and humiliated. On top of that his intellectual prowess had guaranteed that by the end of his final year he'd received several offers to attend some of the most prestigious universities in the country.
But when he returned home he had to deal with the only person capable of making him feel inadequate and stupid, his elder brother, Mycroft.
Which was how Sherlock came to be walking down the country lane, in need of a brief respite from his brothers continual taunts concerning his supposed shortcomings.
He had no idea where he was headed, just allowed his feet to lead him where they would, when he happened to glance over a hedge.
On the other side of the hedge were a number of beehives. A girl, aged around fourteen, wearing protective headgear was very carefully placing a number of dead worker bees into a container.
Intrigued, Sherlock jumped over the hedge and made his way over to the girl, who was in the process of removing the oversized headgear.
"What are you going to do with those bees?" he asked genuinely curious.
The girl gave a surprised squeak, whipping around and almost colliding with Sherlock.
Molly Hooper immediately stepped back. As she took in the vision before her, she felt her cheeks flush pink. The boy was tall, with a mop of curly-hair, stunning eyes, striking cheekbones and lips that any girl would love to kiss.
Sherlock admired the petite girl before him. She had long brown hair that was pulled back in a ponytail, a cute little button nose, and large brown intelligent eyes he could easily lose himself in.
Molly broke the silence to ask tentatively. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
Sherlock mentally shook himself out of his stupor. "Ah, I was curious about what you intended to do with those dead bees."
The girl looked a little uncomfortable, before blurting out. "I want to look at them under a microscope to see if I can learn anything about how they died."
"Fascinating," he murmured.
Shyly she glanced over at Sherlock, and when she noted the genuine interest in his expression she relaxed, and offered him a hopeful smile.
A smile he readily returned. There was something about this girl and her sunny disposition. After all the stuffiness he'd been forced to endure, she was a breath of fresh air and exactly what he needed.
"Would you…?"
"Could I…?"
Smiles became delighted grins as they realised they'd found a kindred spirit in each other.
"I'm Molly," the girl said, offering her hand.
Sherlock shook her hand. "Sherlock," he responded.
Molly led Sherlock over to a table that she'd set up not far away. On the table was a pad, a pencil, and a second hand microscope all set up ready for use.
As they began work on their investigations into the cause of death, Sherlock found himself eagerly looking forward to the rest of the holiday break.