Sherlock sat on the swing, moving slowly, feet scraping the dirt under him. He could hear the hooting laughter of the other children around him, but he wasn't interested. At least, that was what he told himself anyway. Recess was never a fun thing for the tiny Holmes boy, not like it was for everyone else. Sherlock wasn't very good at making friends, preferring to stay alone with a book or something to examine. He hadn't made any friends during his first few months of school, and his mum constantly fussed and worried over him.
Sherlock's sharp tongue often got him into trouble in the classroom, with both his peers as well as the teachers. The other children picked on him for the way he talked and looked and dressed. They judged the things he liked, the way he stood up too straight when he walked. And every mean word or shove in the hall stuck with Sherlock, creating a shell that he wore around himself. He could pretend it didn't bother him, but deep down it did. He spent many sleepless nights wondering if he could possibly be like the other children someday, or if he would be stuck in this phase: on the cusp of unwanted and unimportant.
He knew he was different, special. The teachers tried to cater to his level, to keep him occupied, but it wasn't successful, and he was eventually moved up a year in a hope to quell his thirst for a challenge. He had enjoyed his first day so far, finding that he was still the most intelligent person in the room most times, but it was bareable in this weren't any people like Anderson, a in his old class, and he could actually deal with being around his new classmates.
He told himself that things would be different now, tried to tell himself something new would come around; and something new did come around, in the form of a blonde little boy in a cream colored jumper. He took the swing beside Sherlock, pushing off and kicking himself high into the air.
"John" the teacher warns "Don't swing too high"
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson" John says with a grin, stopping the swing with his feet. He swings for a bit before turning to Sherlock.
"Hi" he says, and Sherlock glances around to make sure he really was talking to him "I'm John Watson."
"Hello" Sherlock replies cooly "Sherlock Holmes"
"You don't look like your havin' much fun" John points out, and Sherlock glances up to look at him fully.
John was short, pale, with shaggy blonde hair and a front tooth missing. He doesn't answer the boy, just returns his attention to watching the toe of his shoe scrape into the dust under the swing.
"Wanna play with me?" John asks "We can play cops"
Sherlock looks at him for a while, quiet and calculating. Then he nods, taking the boy's extended hand and running across the playground to the grassy area at the back.