A/N:A little glimpse at how Sherlock became what he is today. Hopfully in character. ;) For now it is a oneshot I don't know if I will continue.


Sherlock woke up with a start. Where was he? Oh right, 221B, his bed. Outside he could hear John pacing in the kitchen. John sounded agitated. He couldn't understand why. It was not like he was in any danger of dying. His overdose on the plane was clearly controlled and not lethal. He was a graduated chemist, for god's sake! He knew his way around drugs. And he knew what his body could take. But everyone seemed to think it was their business what he did with his own life! He wasn't an addict he was a user, there was a big difference, but no one except him seemed to see it that way. No one understood him. Well there was Li... NO he wouldn't go there. He promised himself a long time ago that he would never go into that wing of his mind palace again. He simply couldn't handle it. He had to be careful to not break this promise. At the moment, coming down from a high, he was in a vulnerable state. There had been times he had lost control of his own mind palace and that wing seemed to be everywhere. He hated it. This part of drug use was the worst. All he wanted to do was sleep but he had work to do, so he tried to get up. And instantly sat down again. His head hurt and he felt like he might puke, this wouldn't do. He needed to be able to think clearly, he needed to stay on his high. He looked to his latest hiding place and cursed. Right, he had used up his whole supply before he had boarded that plane, thinking he would never come back again. There were no drugs left in this flat. He couldn't think straight, he needed something, anything. Why hadn't he seen this coming? He was angry at himself, at John, at Mycroft, especially at Mycroft it was his fault after all. God why couldn't he think, he needed to think! Needing to clear his head, he took the small wooden chest that sat on his bedside table, the small box to which he had thrown the key away a long time ago, the box that he had everyone forbidden to even touch, the box which content he had erased out of his mind and out of his life. He took that box and in a surge of anger threw it against the nearest wall. It shattered with a loud smashing sound and its content scattered on the floor below. The sound and the shock of what he had just done brought him out of his rage and he just stared at the broken pieces on the ground and the treasures he had banned out of his life. Keepsakes he couldn't bring himself to throw away and would never admit to anyone that he possessed them.

"Sherlock! What the hell are you doing in here?" John startled him. John had heard the noise and had stormed into the room without knocking. He looked at the mess on the floor and then back to Sherlock.

"What happened?" He wanted to know.

"Nothing!"

"Sherlock this is clearly NOT nothing." He gestured to the objects on the floor. "Was this the chest you never let anyone touch? I always wondered what was in there." He looked closer at the objects as a twinkle caught his eye. He got down and picked up a piece of broken mirror, which apparently had been broken before it was thrown at the wall.

"Don't touch that John!" Sherlock shouted and got up from his bed despite his head and tried to snatch the piece of mirror from John, but he wasn't in his best form at the moment. So John easily sidestepped Sherlock.

"What has gotten into you? Despite the obvious?" John looked at his reflexion in the fragment.

"I told you it is nothing. Just give me that."

"Why do you keep a broken mirror in there? Wait is that dried blood?"

"Just hand it over!" Sherlock demanded clearly agitated.

"Why is there...? You know what? I don't want to know!" John said exasperated and gave Sherlock what he wanted.

As soon as Sherlock's fingers felt the cool surface of the mirror, the doors to the forbidden wing in his mind palace flew open and he was pulled into his mind.


~flashback~

Sherlock didn't understand those people. First they desperately wanted to know who had broken into the Dean's office and had set it on fire and then, when he told them who had done it, they didn't listen. It was so obvious he couldn't understand how the police hadn't seen it. Mike Miller was a criminal and no one but him knew, he wasn't even a suspect for the police. Sherlock had tried to tell them the truth about Mike but everyone dismissed it, officers and professors alike. Why could no one see what he saw? God he couldn't stand dump people. Everyone around him was an idiot. It was all about partying, drinking and sex for them. And not only for his fellow students, but his professors too. At least five of them had affairs, two of them with each other and one visited a gay night club every Friday in the hopes of finding a young man for the night. He simply didn't understand people and people didn't understand him and he doubted that would change anytime soon.

He was on his way to the library when he saw them. Five of the university's bad boys closed in on him. One of them was Mike.

"Holmes you told everyone that I was the one who broke into the Dean's office. You really think I did it?"

"I know you did it"

"Well you shouldn't tell lies about other people."

"I am the only one telling the truth." Sherlock said stubbornly.

"Liar. We are gonna teach you what happens to liars." With that Sherlock was pulled into an old bathroom and thrown to the floor. A moment later they were on him kicking him. All he could do was to protect his head. After a while Mike pulled his head up on his hair.

"Do you still think I had something to do with the fire?"

"I don't think you did it, I know you did it" Sherlock repeated.

In a rage Mike hauled Sherlock off the floor and threw him into the next mirror which broke under the assault into thousand pieces. Sherlock slithered to the ground. Cradling his hand. A big shard had stuck itself into his hand. A steady stream of blood gushed out of the wound.

Mike started another hit, but was stopped by one of his friends. "Come on Mike, the freak has learned his lesson. Someone probably has heard the noise. We won't want anyone seeing us here." Mike still looked as if he was going to kill someone, but agreed. And with a last blow to Sherlock's side they left him on the floor in the old bathroom.

After catching his breath Sherlock tried to get up, but it proofed to be difficult with only one hand available.

"Here let me help you." He heard a female voice and small hands started to pull him up. When he was on his feed again Sherlock observed the woman before him. She had long blond hair not dyed. Contacts, but not used often, judging by the way her eyes tried to get rid of them. Used to wearing glasses, which the dents on her nose confirmed. Obviously a student of science, but not chemistry nor biology. Physics then. Intelligent. Good he hated morons. She was small but not too small and her clothes said money, well most of the students on this university had money. But she didn't like to wear those clothes, one could see it, like the contacts these clothes weren't used often. She was dressed for a date. To which she obviously didn't want to go. She was here after all.

"So what do you see?" She asked, when it was obvious he wasn't about to talk.

"Excuse me?"

"You are Sherlock Holmes, the thing you do with looking at people and knowing their life story? What do you see in me?"

"You know my name?"

"Of course I know your name! Everyone knows you. You accused Mike Miller to have broken into the Dean's office."

"Well he did it, but no one believes me."

"I do."

"Excuse me?" He said again. He must have misheard.

"I believe you and so do others. Mike is an arse, but his father owns half of this university. No one wants to lose their jobs. So everyone is ignoring your accusation. You should stop telling everyone about Mike, it's not worth it."

"Why?" Who was she to tell him what to do?

"Because of what happened today, he won't let you alone. They will come again and the next time it will hurt more."

"It has happened before and it will happen again. With or without reason. People don't like freaks like me. And now excuse me but I was on my way to the library I need to get that book."

With that he was out of the door. Still holding his hand and walking slowly because of the bruises on his body. But the girl wasn't finished talking and she followed him over the campus.

"Don't say that, you are brilliant. Your mind is extraordinary. I have seen you in Professor Mayer's class."

"Shouldn't you go, your date is waiting."

"Ha, so you did your thing with me. I feel honoured. I think I'm not going, I don't like him anyway, don't even know why I agreed to go on a date with him. Well it's not a real date anyway his friends are there, too. And anyway he is boring."

How dull. Sherlock thought. Girl's problems. Better get rid of her fast.

"That "thing" is simple observation and I can't turn it on or off like a tap. So don't feel honoured, after all, there is nothing special about you."

"Fascinating." That made Sherlock stop. What?

"Really?" He asked.

"Yes" The girl grinned. "Your mind is very special."

"You seem to be the only one who is thinking like that."

She shrugged. "Mabey those people can't see the real you."

"Don't think you know who I am by speaking five minutes with me."

"I don't think I know you, but I know something for sure."

"And what is that?"

"You Sherlock Holmes are definitively not boring." She grinned again and then looked at his hand that was still bleeding.

"They won't let you in the library like this, you know."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I only said that to get rid of you."

"Well that didn't work did it?" She said happily.

"Obviously." Sherlock looked grim. This woman was a nuisance.

"Come on this way." She pulled on his shirt and led him to the nearest dorms.

"I don't think so." Sherlock resisted.

"You need medical attention. And you don't look like a guy that is very fond of hospitals."

"And what would a physics student want to do about that?"

"A physics student yes, but one with a doctor as a mother. I am pretty sure I can handle that minor injury. So there are only two options for you: I will get you to the next emergency room or I patch you up myself. Which will it be?" She grinned again, knowing the answer before he even spoke. And Sherlock was annoyed beyond compare, but followed her anyway. He hated hospitals.

Sherlock watched her treat his hand. The wound wasn't very deep and the girl - what was her name?- seemed to do a pretty good job. After she wrapped the bandage around his hand, she admired her work. She looked awfully proud. What went wrong with this girl? Sherlock wondered.

As soon as she led go of his hand Sherlock got up. He felt highly uncomfortable in that woman's dorm room and he wanted to go as soon as possible. Of course he didn't led it on. His pride forbid it. He was about to leave when her voice stopped him once again.

"You know normal people say thank you, after they got help. But I guess you are not normal. " She shrugged.

Sherlock tried to look friendly and put a semi convincing smile on his face.

"Thank you." He said. It sounded forced.

"You are very welcome." She laughed.

With a last annoyed glance he opened the door and ran straight into another person.

"What the hell?" The guy in front of him exclaimed. When he saw who had run into him, his eyes went big.

"Lissa what the hell is this freak doing here?" The guy looked as if Sherlock was a bothersome insect he needed to get rid of.

Lissa sprang up from her bed and stormed to her door. "Stop calling him that! He is not a freak! You don't have a say about who is in here and who not!"

"You stood me up for him?" He gestured to Sherlock who looked now highly uncomfortable. Being trapped between Lissa, good to know her name, and that slimy guy.

"Well yes I did." She said angrily. No one was allowed to speak like this to her. "Cool down Liam! It were only a few drinks with your friends. You wouldn't have needed me there, anyway."

"No it wasn't" Sherlock said.

"What?" Lissa looked confused.

"He had obviously planned a semi romantic date for this evening, in the hopes that he would get lucky. He thought you were easy prey."

"What? You said just a few drinks with friends! No expectations!"

"You can't possibly believe him. He is a liar."

"Well I believe him more than I do you. I didn't even want to go out with you! I only said yes to stop you from asking me out again."

"God you are such a bitch. You are obviously not worthy of my time. I don't want to shack someone who has shacked that freak anyway. I bet he does all sorts of perverse things to you and you let him."

"Go to hell Liam!" With that she pulled Sherlock into her room again and smashed the door right into Liam's face. The sound of a breaking nose, was way too satisfying for Lissa.

"God, I am so sorry Sherlock! I hate men, they only want the one thing and that is sex." She saw Sherlock's face. "I mean excluding you. You are obviously a man, that doesn't think about sex. I mean I don't know what you think about, but you are concentrating on your studies and you never seem to have a girlfriend or a boyfriend, not that I would mind either way. I just think you are not a man, no I mean like other men. Okay I stop speaking now."

"That would be advisable." He said in his matter of fact tone. Once again he opened the door looking if the coast was clear. "But you are right, I am not like other men. I stand above such things. Goodbye Lissa." He left.

But god was she wrong. He had urges. He despised them, but he still was a man. That night he couldn't think about anything, but Lissa's hand on his body, the way she seemed to look at him like he was someone special. The way she had defended him, no one had ever defended him. And her smile haunted him, all night.

~end flashback~


"Sherlock! Sherlock! SHERLOCK!"

Sherlock stood once again in his bedroom in 221B. John with a red head in front of him.

"Stop yelling John it doesn't become you. Be mindful of your blood pressure"

"Jesus, Sherlock. You were gone for at least five minutes. You need to stop doing that!"

"It is not something I have control over when I'm in this state."

"You mean when you are high? When you overdosed?"

"Stop being so accusing!"

"Stop taking drugs!"

"I won't need them now, not when Moriaty is back." Sherlock lied.

"Right." John looked at the fragment of mirror still clutched in Sherlock's hand. He desperately wanted to know why Sherlock would keep something like this in his bedroom. But didn't want to pry. There was another question though.

"So you got anyway nearer to get to Moriaty's men?"

"What?" Sherlock looked confused.

"You were in your mind palace, weren't you? Did you find the reason or the persons behind this Moriaty thing?"

"Oh right… No John I didn't make progress, but you know me. I will eventually."

"You know Sherlock" John said before leaving the room. "Sometimes I think I don't know you at all." And as an afterthought he added "You should tidy that up."

"You know John" Sherlock mumbled to the empty room. "I don't think anyone knows me."

Very carefully he placed the fragment, which Lissa had pulled out of him all those years ago, on his bedside table and followed John out of the room. His past could wait another day. First he needed to stop Moriaty.