Why does this always happen to me? I don't get why the other kids don't like me. I sit alone at lunch with my violin at my feet. I don't like new school's, especially not this one. All the kids stare at me, like I'm I'm a freak.

I look over at a random table and my eyes land on blue eyes. Staring at me. I couldn't peel my eyes away. There was something different about this stare. He didn't look at me like I was a freak, he looked at me with amazement. I kept staring until someone stepped in my way. It was James Moriarty, he was the one who gave me that black eye two days ago.

I looked up at his face, it was filled with so much hate and anger.

'Hey freak! Why all alone? Where are your friends? Awe too bad freak is all alone!' Moriarty said in his sing-song voice. A couple heads turned in our direction to see what was going on. Moriarty moved to stand next to me and I could see those blue eyes staring at me again, but this time he was, angry. His hands were balled up in fists.

I was so concentrated on his fist that I didn't notice Moriarty was still there until he punched me in the face.

'Hello! Are you there, freak?!' He started punching my ribs. My eyes drifted over to look at the boy with the blue eyes, except he wasn't there. He was behind Moriarty.

'Leave him alone, James!' The boy shouted. Moriarty let go of my shirt and turned to the boy.

'John, John, John. You still haven't learned to keep your mouth shut.' He then took a swing at John, but he dodged it. John punched Moriarty right in the jaw.

'I said,' John said, his jaw clenched. 'Leave him alone!' Moriarty ran away from him after that. The boy turned to look at me. He held out his hand to help me up. I took his hand and got up. His hand was warm and soft. I let go of his hand and looked into his eyes.

'Are you okay?' He asked. He reached up to dab at my bloody nose with a napkin.

'I'm fine.' I said, surprised that he actually scared Moriarty off. 'Thanks for that.' This time I turned away from his eyes and looked at him. He had blonde hair and he was finely built. My eyes ran over his face, over his lips.

'You'd better get to class, or you'll be late.' He said and he walked off. I watched his retreating figure. The bell rang and I gathered up my stuff and went to Physics. As I walk I think about this boy, John was his name, his blue eyes, his blonde hair...and why he would want to help me. No one ever wants to help or even talk to me for that matter.

I made it to the classroom just in time. I took my usual seat at the back of the room. But I wasn't the only one late. It was John. But he didn't go unseen.

'Mr. Watson, I hope you have a good reason to be late.' The teacher, Mr. Lastrade said. John looked around the room for a second and his eyes found mine. He quickly looked away and looked at the teacher.

'Uh, yes sir. I was talking to Principal Anderson.' He stammered. And he looked back at me.

'All right. Go take your seat.' Mr. Lastrade pointed to the only empty seat, which was next to me.

I could feel John staring at me, more than once. I turned to look at him and he quickly turned away. It kept going back and forth like that until the last 5 minutes of class. John kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat. But he didn't stare as much.

Finally the class was over. I gathered up my books and my bag and was ready to go when the teacher said, 'Don't forget your homework is due tomorrow!' After he finished talking I hurried out of the room. John was following me. I spun around so that we were face to face. 'Why do you keep following me?'

'I just wanted to make sure you were okay.' He stuttered.

'I told you that I was fine...' I wasn't able to finish my sentence.

'No, you're not.' John looked at my ribs where I didn't realize I was clutching. 'Let me look at them, please?' He looked really worried for me. What has this kid done to me? I found my feet carrying me to the bathroom.

I set my books on the floor and took off my jacket and started to unbutton my dress shirt. John walked in after me. My undershirt had blood on it. I peeled it off and John gasped. There were cuts and bruises on my stomach and ribs. John grabbed a paper towel and started to clean up the blood. I watched him. Trying to read him.

'Why are you doing this? Most kids are scared of me. They don't even talk to me.' I winced when he put pressure on my ribs. He looked up and said 'Sorry' He didn't answer my question. Ugh! This kid is so frustrating!

'I'm doing this because you're hurt. And I'm not 'most kids'. I didn't get a chance to ask your name.' He said, getting up to throw away the now blood covered paper towel to get a new one. The bell rang. I saw the panic in his eyes.

'It's okay, I'll make up some story about why we were late. And the name is Sherlock Holmes.' John walked back over to me to finish cleaning up the blood.

When he was done, I picked up my blood covered shirt to put back on but there were hand's stopping mine. I looked up and saw that John was taking off his jumper and his undershirt and he gave me his shirt.

I shook my head, 'Don't do that. I'll be fine with just my dress shirt.' John picked it up and I saw that it too was blood covered. For me not missing the slightest things, this was odd. He tried handing me his shirt again, this time I took it and put it on. As it lift the shirt over my head, I catch catch a glimpse of him. He has a 6 pack, obviously. My eyes run over his biceps. I didn't realize I was staring until John said my name.

'Are you okay, Sherlock?' He came closer to me. So close that I could identify his deodorant, the scent was 'Old Spice Swagger'. I inhaled. He smelt, amazing.

'Yes, yes. I'm fine. Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. It's just,' you are very handsome, how could I not be staring. 'No one is ever this, friendly to me.' I said instead. I didn't want to scare him off. We were still standing in the bathroom, just staring at each other.

'Well, Sherlock Holmes, get used to it. Because I am not going anywhere. You're stuck with me now.' He said, then he winked. He fucking winked! At me! Holy shit!

'I was thinking we could go back to my place and just hang out or something.' John asked as we grabbed our stuff and walked out of the bathroom. Did he just invite me to 'hang' at his place?! What is wrong with him?! He should be running away from me!

'Okay. Could I borrow your phone?' He reached into his pocket and produced his phone. I sent a text to Mrs. Hudson. It read,

Mrs. Hudson I won't be home after school today. Don't wait up for me.

-SH

After it sent I gave John back his phone. And we looked at each other, and started to smile.