I do not own Sherlock and I hope you enjoy the story!
...
John opened his eyes and took a deep breath. "Johnnie! Wake up!"
John wanted to pull the covers over his head and go back to sleep. But I can't, He though angrily, It's the first bloody day of school. He got up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Walking down the stairs, he could hear the distinct sound of his mother flipping pancakes. I guess this is the one good thing that comes out of this. He smiled, and quickly continued down the stairs.
"Morning, mum!" he smiled, grabbing a plate and fork from the pantry.
"John! Your only in your boxers!" She scolded with a hint of laughter.
John grabbed a pancake with his fork and stuffed it into his mouth. "I'll get right on that then."
He kissed his mother on the head then ran upstairs. John rapidly slipped on a flannel top and jeans and ran back downstairs and grabbed his backpack. "Have a great first day of school, sweetie!" smiled Miss Watson flipping her long blonde hair out of the way.
"You too, mum!" he laughed stepping out of the flat. John began sprinting towards Howard Barrington Preparatory Academy. Who even is Howard bloody Barrington? He thought to himself with a smile as he passed the bakery his father and he used to visit. Soon, he could see the school.
John stopped as he reached the front of the school. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Take a good whiff, John. This is where you'll be spending the next 180 school days. John Watson pulled his jumper down a little, straightened his backpack, ran his fingers through his hair, then walked up the steps to the rich-looking school and opened the doors.
While the outside of the school looked very fancy, with a fountain, a statue of the founder, a large garden and every other protocol for a fancy private school, the inside looked like any normal high school. There where kids walking around, talking, pushing other kids into lockers, making out, throwing papers, everything. John walked forward, only to be tripped by a tall, tan, blonde guy who looked about his age. "Welcome to Howard Barrington Prison, newbie."
He walked away laughing with some other kids. John narrowed his eyes at him and continued down the hallways. "Let's see…" he said aloud. "My locker is 296, and the 200's are this way, so-"
John was interrupted by running into another person. John fell to the ground. "Damnit! One fall on the first day is expected but two is ridiculous…" he said to himself rubbing his head. Gah, there's going to be a bruise there…"
"Watch where you're going!" John yelled at the kid.
He looked up at John, he had to be at least a year younger, fourteen. "I deduce that someone dear has died in your family judging by your attitude, and clothing of course. Your clothes scream mama's boy but your acting like a jerk… So I'm guessing it your father?"
John was enraged; he picked up the kid and punched him, sending him into a locker. Standerbys laughed as the kid struggled to get up. A guy walked over to John, "I'd never think a nerd like you could take a smug little brat like Sherlock!"
John looked over to see that the guy who talked was the same guy who tripped him. His friends laughed along with him, and one of them kicked Sherlock in the stomach as he tried to get up. John laughed along with them as they carried Sherlock into the bathroom. He kind of felt bad for the poor guy, he didn't really mean to hurt him, but he hated it whenever someone brought up his dad. But he had no choice but to laugh, it was eat or be eaten here. A dark haired girl walked over to John.
"Hi, I'm Vicky, my friends and I think you're pretty cool! Want to go to class with us?"
She smiled sweetly as she held her books up against her chest. John followed his motives, as well as her mesmerizing attractiveness, and took her books for her and walked her to class.
Hi dad, I don't know if you can hear me, but high school is going pretty good for me so far. I made some new friends and I'm becoming popular! Isn't it crazy? Bookish Watson beat up a nerd and is going to class with a pretty girl and made an impression on a few jocks. I have a good feeling about this year.
….
John had made lots of popular friends by lunch time. He had Vicky, of course, but she introduced him to her friends and he learned the name of the jock who tripped him that morning, Noah. He sat around a large group of popular kids. He ate his lunch, not really paying attention to Noah's obviously fake story. All he could focus on was Sherlock sitting all alone at a table in the corner of the room. A few jocks could see where John's gaze was heading and got up and laughed, "Not done with him, are we?"
John was picked up and dragged along by Noah. "Guys, give the kid a break."
They couldn't hear him though, they had all gathered around Sherlock's little solitary table. "So, I guess you ignorant brutes came back to defile me, I suppose that's normal for ignoramuses to busy playing around with a dame to actually read a book for once and get and A instead of keeping a D average." Sherlock smirked, giving them a smug smile.
John couldn't help but admire the poor soul. He took on at least five men bigger than him with a smug smile and clearly visible bruises already on his face. That was a boy who could be admired by anyone.
But his infatuation was short lived, for Noah threw the first punch, sending Sherlock into the wall. He slid down and John could see the back of his head was bleeding. When he fell to the ground, it was like he was a puddle, he almost had no form, that is until a football player he knew as Jason picked him up and pushed him towards another person. John only watched from the side as the jocks continued to push him around until one person kicked him in the stomach sending him down.
John was surprised when he was the next person pushed. Noah pushed John towards Sherlock. "Finish him!"
Sherlock looked up at John, his eyes were red and wet from tears and blood was rolling down his nose and through his curly black hair. His chek bruises were puffed out and red and purple. "Go on!" Sherlock sobbed. "You heard them, finish me!"
Instead of looking pompous like he usually did, Sherlock looked angry, angry that John wasn't hurting me, upset that this was happening, and to John's astonishment, readiness. I don't want to punch this kid, he's going through hell already, this would just make it worse, the poor thing looks like he's about to die, like a little abused puppy. But I can't just get beat up too by helping him, but he obviously needs medical attention…
John shut his eyes and slammed his fist into Sherlock's nose.