AN: Hey, this is my first fanfiction so enjoy! Oh, and don't forget to review!

Sherlock Holmes has a number of reasons why he hates school.

First of all, there is the fact that he knows everything. He wasn't being big headed, it was true. He knows everything. He knows everything about the Roman empire, yet he still has to sit and listen to his history teacher, Mrs West, drone on and on. In maths, he still has to sit and 'practice' finding the area of a triangle, even though he knows it is half the base times the width. He also has to help his classmates when they struggle to turn on the computers in I.C.T. He knows everything and he still has to attend this 'dump of a school'.

The second reason is the soggy school dinners. Sherlock's mother died when he was only two years old. This meant that Sherlock lived with his father and older brother, Mycroft. They were good at many things, fixing fence pannels, painting the garage, all sorts. However, they could not make sandwhiches. And, as much as Sherlock tried, neither could he. So, Sherlock was stuck eating this sloppy filth everyday.

Reason three. The bullies. Yes, Sherlock was highly intellegent and of course, all of the other students were incredibly jealous of this fact, therefore, they continuosly victimised him. As hard as he tried, they wouldn't just leave him alone.

These reasons were running through his head on a perticularly cold day in October, as he sat in one corner of the canteen at school, alone. It was dinner time and, as the other students filled their faces with piles and piles of lumpy mashed potatoes and crimated sausages, Sherlock sat quietly observing them all.

He noticed a small group of year eight girls giggling in the corner opposite. One was applying pink lipstick to her puckered lips, whilst another whispered in her ear. Both girls stopped what they were doing and shot a glance to an older boy who stood round two boys who were having an arm wrestling competition. The girls began giggling again as the older boy looked up and them and winked.

Sherlock looked through the doors at the back of the canteen and out into the outside area. He saw masses of students gathered round a fight between two boys in Sherlock's history class. The browned hair boy had pushed the other boy onto the floor and was currently hitting him whilst the crowned chanted 'FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT.'

Across the grass, Mrs West was running towards the group of boys. Her red scraf was flapping behind her in the wind, her glasses slowly slipping of her nose as she fought her way through the crowd, the coffee in her hand spilling onto one of the students who yelped.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and smirked. He had secluded himself from ebvery other student in this 'god damn' school the moment he arrived. He took one step into the building, smelt the despiration from the teachers and the constant shouts from deliquant students who ran down the corridors, ties fastened around their heads, and decided that no one in here was worth his time.

He pulled his book out from his sachel, just as, yet another, group of teenage boys entered the canteen to his left. Desiring to go unnoticed by this particular group of boys, Sherlock flicked open the book and pulled it up to cover his face. He tried to concentrate on reading, however he was drawn to the students who had just entered the canteen. Peering over the top of his book, he observed the group of six. They were laighing and joking as they took their usual table by the back door. Sherlock's eyes fell upon the group leader. He was sat on the table, looking down at the rest of the boys, an apple in his hand. Sherlock dispised this student much more than he did the rest of the school. This student was Jim Moriaty. As Sherlock watched, Jim ran a hand through his slick black hair, before pulling a knife from his pocket and stabbed it into his apple. His eyes flickering to Sherlock as he laughed at a joke one of his curly haired 'followers' said.

From the moment Sherlock and Jim met, Sherlock hated him. It all started when Jim had purposely threw a pencil at his and Sherlock's year three teacher. Jim blamed Sherlock, and even at just six years old, Sherlock could tell this student was going to cause him the most trouble. From that day on, everything Jim did annoyed, hurt or drove Sherlock mad. From that day on, Jim continued to harass Jim. This boy was another reason why Sherlock hated school.

Across the canteen, Sherlock stared back at Jim, his fists clenching around his book. Eyes locked with Shelock's, Jim jumped up from his seat on the table and began marching towards him. A smug smile crossed his face when he reached Sherlock. He stood with his arms crossed for a moment, just looking at Sherlock and then proceeded to snatch the book out of Sherlock's hands.

"Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince?" Jim smirked tossing the book from one hand to the other. He mocked "Oh Harry! Take me away on your magical broomstick and we can live happily ever after," as the rest of Jim's group assembled behind him, he continued "No little wizard will save you Holmes!" The rest of the boys laughed as Jim continued to mock Sherlock.

Sherlock could feel anger building up inside him and he lunged forward, trying to grab the book from Jim's hand. However, Jim was clever to Sherlock, he was the cleveres student at this schhol, yet he hid it behind jokes and pranks. He hid it so he could be popular. Jim took a quick step backwards, realising Sherlock's plan he lifted the book, causing Sherlock to fall off his chair and onto his knees on the floor, looking up at Jim. The whole canteen seemed to errupt into laughted at the boy as he made no attempt to get up.

"Ah, ah, ah," Jim began, sniggering. "I think we'll be keeping this, eh boys?" Jim threw the book back to a student who began ripping pages out of it with his dirty fingers.. Keeping eye contact with the boy on the florr, Jim resumed stabbing his knife into the apple as if he were attempting to murder it.

Jim stepped closer and bent down to Sherlock, so close their noses were almost touching. Sherlock could smell John's foul breath as he whispered "This is my school. I run this school." Sherlock sniggered, but Jim drew closer, whispering now. The whole canteen had fallen silent and had gathered round the scene. Even some of the dinner ladies were stood on the chairs at the back of the crowd, watcing the show unfold before thie eyes. "If you ever do something to disturb that, then we'll have a bit of a problem, won't we?"

John took a small step back and stabbed his knife into the apple again, carving circles. Just as he turned to leave, a small voice came from the middle of the crowd to Sherlock's left. "Leave him alone" the voice whispered, cracking slightly. Jim turned on the spot. Rage overpowered him which caused him to force his knife into the table to his right so hard it went all the way through.

"I said..leave him alone" This time the voice was louder, but Sherlock detected a hint of fear from it. Of course he did, no one in this school would ever stand up to Jim and be brave. Then again, no one in this school would stand up to Jim. This person must be mad.

The crowd of students, a look of shock horror on each of their faces, parted and both Jim and Sherlock peered through the gap in astonishment. Who was this brave student? And, why did they choose now to stand up for Sherlock? He'd waited all his life.

Once the young boy had reached Jim, he stood in front of Sherlock, shielding him and repeated "Leave him alone."

Jim laughed once. A high picted sound which traveled across the room. His laugh was sarcastic, yet Sherlock knew Jim was slightly relieved that the boy was much smaller than him. Even Sherlock felt like laughing. He wanted to be happy someone had stood up for him but he was barely five foot. He almost felt guilty for the poor boy who would most definetly be close to death in a matter of minutes.

"Getting your boyfriend to save you know Holmes? Need a bodyguard to love you becvause no one else will?" Jim now turned to the young boy. He was a giant towering over him, yet the boy didn't cower down. Not even when Jim bent down and was right up in his face, just as he has been with Sherlock a few moments ago. "You btter listen, kid. If i find you sticking up for-"

Just then the bell sounfed for the end of dinner. A look of relief crossed the young boy's pale face as the students began to leave the canteen.

"Saved by the bell? Lucky, lucky, lucky." Jim whispered beafore turning on his heels and began to march away. As he joined the group of students who were last to leave the canteen, he turned to Sherlock. "You better watch it Holmes. I'll get you, and your little boyfriend too!" Before leaving, he threw the apple towards them and it landed on the floor in front of Sherlock, who was still kneeling on the floor.

The boy turned to Sherlock as Jim's malicious laughter faded down the corridor. Sherlock was still staring open mouthed at the boy and noticing this, he quickly clambered to his feet as the small boy began to talk quickly. "Hi, you're Sherlock Holmes. My Mum told me all about you and how clever you are! I don't know how she knows about you but she wants me to be just like you, just as clever. Oh, I wish I was as smart as you! I'm new to this school. This is my first day, i mean. That's not my name. I'm John. John Watson. It's a pleasure to meet you! I can't believe this, my mum is going to-" Jonh stopped abruptly noticing that Sherlock was too busy picking up the pages of his book that the 'big oaf' with grubby fingers had thrown onto the floor, to listen to what John was saying. John strode over to the curly haired boy who was knelt on the floor, picking up the apple as he went. AS Sherlock stood, a pile of pages in his arms, he nearly knocked into the boy. John spoke again now he was face to face with Sherlock. "You know, most people would just say thanks." Je pushed the apple on top of the pages in Sherlock's arms. Sherlock stood still, a look of confusion in his eyes. John continued "..I did stick up for you. Blimey, I think my Mum was wrong about you. You don't seem very smart."

"Thank you John. John Watson" Sherlock said, a slight smile playing across his lips. He watched as the boy walked away mumbling to himslef, or to Sherlock, about being late for class. Sherlock walked over to his sachel and shoved the ruined book and apple ito it, before throwing it over his shoulder and following John out of the door.

Sherlock didn't know why but something about this boy made his heart beat faster. He felt the urge to smile. A proper, decent smile. So unlike the smile's he'd been faking since his mother had died. There was something about this brave, pale faced, blonde boy that made Sherlock feel different. He wanted to be angry, no one had ever made him feel this...happy? No, he shook off the feeling. This wasn't right. Sherlock Holmes didn't have friends.

Sherlock has a list of reasons why he hates school. Along with the fact he the lessons were uninteresting, the foul school dinners, the bullies and Jim Moriaty making his life a misery, school was hard. However, after today, Sherlock had found a reason to why he should like school. He never made any friends and it was probably that continous isolation that made him smile everytime he thought of the moment his friend has stuck up for him.

Sherlock had a reason why he knew school was going to get much better. That reason, was John Watson.

AN- So, what do you guys think? Like I said, it's my first fanfiction and I don't know whether to leave it as a one shot or write more? Review, please! Thanks.