So...I actually started another story ^^"

Title: Society, Intelligence and other opposites

Rating: T/M...may vary, especially in later chapters

Pairings: For now, there will be none. For now...

Enjoy the story =3

Sherlock was pretty sure his parents must have hated him the second he was born, because, seriously, no loving and caring parents would have called their child 'Sherlock'. It was the worst possible name for a 16-year old he could imagine.

"Oi, Sherlock!"

God, how he hated the way his classmates pronounced his name to make it sound even worse.

"What is it, Paul?" He tried to make the other boy's name sound just as stupid, but it somehow didn't work. Great.

"You already chose a club?"

"Why do you care?"

"We're still looking for some people to join the football club."

"Hm. I'll probably join the 'Get home earlier' club."

"Oh, c'mon! You can't just piss off and not participate in any activities at all!"

"I can. See?" Sherlock got on his rusty, old bike, a heirloom of Sherringford, his oldest brother, and drove off. To hell with all those overly social idiots!

Sherlock Holmes was 16 years old, way too thin and didn't give a damn about hygiene. In his opinion, his parents were mad and if not mad, they were just bloody morons, since no sane person would have called their sons 'Sherringford', 'Mycroft' and 'Sherlock'. On his way home, which led him through sheer endless fields of wheat, he started pondering whether he should actually go home. His father would be furious to hear his youngest son had yet again refused any social activities and Sherlock was reluctant to listen to one of his father's sermons about social behavior. So, instead of heading home right away, he lay down beside a paddock and stared up into the sky. Clouds. Giant accumulations of vapor. Nothing of real interest. He let out a sigh, closed his eyes and dozed off, until a barely audible chuckle made him get back to reality immediately.

"Didn't join any clubs?"

Sherlock grabbed a small pebble that lay on the earth next to him and threw it at his brother.

"Get off my back, Mycroft. It's none of your business." Said he, as he scrambled to his feet and dusted himself off. He'd need to wash that uniform later, or else his dad would go berserk.

"So, why are you not home yet?" Sherlock was glad Mycroft didn't pump him for any more information on his lack of club activities. Sometimes it seemed that Mycroft was the only other sane person apart from himself.

"I try to avoid another of dad's sermons." He confessed, starring at his bike, which lay in the grass. What color had it been when it was all new and shiny? It was kinda hard to tell, since all the rust did well at hiding and eating the colors. Sherlock starred at the bike for some more time and finally settled on silver as its original color. His dad had probably chosen it for Sherringford, as Sherlock was sure he had never seen his oldest brother even standing near a bike.

"Dad will be gone for at least a month. We're on our own again…with Sherringford." Sherlock laughed at the angry glint in Mycroft's eyes.

"You're still angry at him for stealing your girlfriend?"

"Well, excuse me! I think it's a bloody good reason to be angry at him!"

"She was a bitch!"

"I loved her anyway."

"She obviously didn't love you back, Mycrosoftie."

"I do hate you sometimes."

"Everyone does."

"...We should go home. You look hungry."

Both of them got on their bikes and cycled home in silence.

So...what do you think of this little project of mine?

Please let me know either through reviews or messages =3