A/N: This story is going to be a series of one-shots based on different emotions that Sherlock and other characters have experienced during their lifetimes. I don't know how regularly I am going to upload a new one-shot as they are just something to fill in for my writer's block from my other stories on this site. Hopefully, by writing these, I'll get my creative streak back. =)
This is my first Sherlock story and I'm not too sure what I feel about it at the moment as it's a bit different from my usual style of writing, so consider this as an experiment of playing around with styles. This first one-shot is about anger. Just in case you are a little unsure, I'd like to clarify that this is about Sherlock's childhood when he is quite young. Anyway, enough of me jabbering on...enjoy! ^_^
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Sherlock.
A Bundle of Emotions
By Eleanor Jane Farrell
Part 1: Anger
A strong wind blew through the trees making them whisper. The chill in the air hinted at the approaching winter. The children running about, calling and exclaiming with excitement, were wrapped up warm. Multicoloured hats, scarves and gloves decorated their delicate bodies. Groups of friends were holding hands playing, laughing and exploring the school grounds, taking care to avoid one particular boy at the other end of the playground.
Sherlock Holmes stood completely alone. Out of boredom, he kicked up some of the crisp leaves that had fallen from the trees. A kaleidoscope of shocking yellows, brilliant reds and dull browns flew into the air. Sherlock watched the leaves with interest, his blue-grey eyes keenly followed their movements. He was quite content being left alone but a small part of him longed for someone to talk to, someone to play with. Back home he was used to having all of his brother's attention and protectiveness, but at school it was a different story. He was now used to being alone of course; it was a routine thing for him to be standing alone in the playground as everyone else kept their distance. In time, he had gotten used to this arrangement and wasn't too happy when it was disturbed.
Today, Sherlock found himself expressing the emotions that he had kept well hidden. If anything, the boys who made him would regret it. Three boys had decided to be brave and risked interacting with the anti-social Sherlock. The leader of the three-a brown-haired, tall boy-walked confidently over to where Sherlock was standing, his two friends followed him more hesitantly. Sherlock looked up and eyed the three warily and attentively. Sherlock felt mild annoyance build up inside of him; the boys had violated his personal area of solitude. The brown-haired boy took a step closer to Sherlock and arranged his face into a spiteful, smug grin. Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the boy's act of "playing tough".
"Hey look, George, Ben! It's Sherlock the freak!" The leader had spoken louder than necessary, trying to act more confident than he was. Sherlock didn't seem too phased by the insult, however, you could see the irritation in his eyes.
"Oh, very mature, Jack," Sherlock answered sarcastically and unperturbed. "You could had thought of a more original insult, but then again, you are an idiot."
"At least I've got friends!" Jack retorted bitterly. He stood upright and put his hands on his hips to make himself look bigger and taller than he was but he was still not up to Sherlock's height. "And I'm not an idiot! Mummy says that I'm clever."
"Your mother's an idiot too," Sherlock replied quite patronisingly. Jack's face was a picture of fury; his jaw was clenched, his nostrils flared and his lips were curled in a frown. He took a step closer to Sherlock so he was close to his face.
"Don't insult my mummy again!" Jack screeched, a sound that got on Sherlock's nerves. Jack clenched his fists and stepped even closer to Sherlock so they were almost touching now. "Your mummy is pathetic for loving you!" Sherlock didn't take his personal space being invaded too kindly. He stared at Jack for a short while, not breaking eye-contact, and then suddenly shoved Jack, with an unexpected amount of strength, to the ground. Jack got up slowly with a snarl on his face, his face red from anger, and closed his hands into fists. Jack's friends, who had been watching the whole exchange silently became animated again, they too stepped closer to Sherlock with their hands curled into fists.
Sherlock was fuming. How dare they insult his mother. A rational part of his mind was telling him that he was outnumbered and violence wouldn't solve the argument, but his rage filled thoughts didn't want to listen…so he didn't. As Jack, Ben and George drew closer to him, Sherlock arranged himself into a more stable position by lowering and spreading his body, a position that showed he was ready for a fight. He too, raised his fists ready to strike, if necessary. A few spectators had gathered around them now and were eager to see some action, chanting "fight, fight, fight!" Sherlock threw the first punch, it hit Jack, making him stagger back because of the force behind it. After Jack when down, his friends advanced onto Sherlock. A series of fists rained down on Sherlock but he still had the upper hand on the two boys. However, before the fight could go any further the teacher on duty intervened.
Later in the headmaster's office, Sherlock mentally scolded himself for losing control. While he was nursing his injuries and listening to the headmaster lecturing him on why fighting in school was "very bad" and wouldn't be "tolerated", it was quite patronised actually, he made a silent vow that he would never lose his temper like that again, from now on he'd listen to that rational side of his brain.
A/N: So, what do you think? I have no objections to constructive criticism...in fact, I'd like to know how I could improve.
I've never written a fight scene before so please excuse me if it was rather sloppy.
