John Watson wasn't very interesting at all. He wasn't particularly good at sport and he was average academically in almost every subject except Biology and English in which he excelled. Even his height wasn't very interesting (Slightly under the national average incase one was wondering). But still, Sherlock Holmes found every inch of him fascinating.

Even the way he met the small, unassuming teenager that was John Watson was fascinating.


"Ah shit! I'm going to be late for school. Why the hell didn't mum wake me up this morning?"

John Watson stared at his alarm clock with disgust. It was almost as reliable as his mother.

"Shit." He exclaimed once more.

Getting out of the bed he quickly grabbed his clothes and threw them on, scruffily doing his tie up, and forgoing a shower to make up for lost time. Soon after he popped some toast in the toaster and went to collect his bag and shoes from his bedroom. Coming back, he found that his toast was ready so he buttered it and took a bite. He relished the taste. Grabbing the keys from the counter, John hurried out of the door and onto the road.

Walking as fast as he could, John scoffed down his toast.

Why on earth did he have to be late? He had a mock exam 2nd period and if he didn't get there in time he would be disqualified and maybe even moved down a few sets. And his revision didn't exactly go to plan either. All he had to do was write down a few notes and then he would be fine. But no. His mother had to sprout the fact that she was going away for a week and that he would have to look after himself since his sister had to bugger off to her girl friend's last year and forget to come back at all.

Looking to his left he saw an alley and decided to dash down it, and since nobody could see him, he ran as fast as he could. It wouldn't matter if he got sweaty, he had gym just before lunch anyway, therefore he could have a sneaky shower.

He glanced down at his watch to check the time.

But he wasn't watching his feet. And then he tripped.

Instead of falling onto the cold hard ground, he fell onto something soft and very much alive.

Opening his eyes he saw a boy with brown, almost black hair underneath him. John was almost straddling the poor boy and crushing him with his over bearing weight.

Gazing at the boy's face, John forgot the he was in a rush, forgot that he needed to get to school.

Beneath John, the boy winced in pain and tried to wriggle from the prison that was John. But John didn't notice.

A cough from the boy under him caught his attention and he quickly got off the raven-haired boy.

John offered a strong hand towards him.

Embarrassed, the boy grabbed John's hand and straightened his coat out.

His coat looked really expensive but now it had a lot of rips, it was ruined. John immediately felt guilty.

"Sorry." John apologised, "I didn't see you there. I was in a rush to school and saying that, I must go." He tried to push past the boy but the boy held him back.

"John, that's your name, right? Surprised?" The boy quipped when he saw the surprised reaction on John's face, "I also know that your sister is an alcoholic, your mother is almost never home, you had toast for breakfast, and you have an exam today. Thank you for your time, and I shall let you go now. I need to sample some mud."

The boy tried push past John but John held him by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes.

"How do you know that? I never told anyone that. And while you're explaining your little trick I will check your back, you fell pretty hard there. I know I'm only sixteen but my dad was an-"

"Army doctor, yes, he also died in action. But you're over it because you think that it's an honourable way to die. Stupid." the strange boy interjected.

John looked over to the boy in awe, "That was extraordinary. What's your name?"

The boy's eyes widened for a second, then his expression became neutral just as fast, "Sherlock Holmes."

"John Watson- well you probably already knew that. Come on my house isn't that far away. I shouldn't have to get any supplies."

"I gathered that. And why don't you want to go to school any more? You were in quite a big rush."

"Well I'm going to be late for my mock exam and since I didn't want to take it in the first place I would rather help someone else."

John started to walk up the alley and supposed that Sherlock would followed after him. But when he didn't, he looked back concerned. Looking down at the ground, Sherlock gingerly took a step forward. He winced. Then he moved the other foot. He winced. Another step. He fell.

John rushed to Sherlock's side and helped him back to his feet. Moving slowly, John put his arm around Sherlock's shoulders and let Sherlock lean into him.

The time it took to get to John's house was considerably longer. Every step was agonisingly slow and painful. And by the time they reached the house John was out of breath and Sherlock in immense pain.

John pulled open the door after letting go of Sherlock.

As they stumbled inside, John closed the door and led Sherlock up the stairs and into his bedroom.

He sat Sherlock down on the small bed and ordered him to roll on his back.

"If it's okay, can I just take your shirt off so I can see the damage?"

A grunt was heard from the mop of dark curly hair. John presumed it meant yes before pulling the hem of the shirt carefully over Sherlock's body.

John's eyes widened as he saw the extent of the bruising on the boys back. Most of the bruising was old, only some of them new. Nevertheless, John remained silent and attended the wounds dutifully, carefully analysing the back for signs of further injury.

After getting a good look, John told Sherlock that he could sit up.

"It looks like you just bruised your back. I'm afraid that you won't be able to walk very far. Do you want me to call a cab and get you back home?"

Sherlock huffed and tried to stand up, grimacing in pain, "I'm fine. I don't need help. And I'm most certainly not going home."

Shaking his head, John gently held Sherlock onto the bed, "If you don't want to go home then you're going to have to stay here. My mother-"

"Isn't going to be home for about a week. I looked on your fridge as I walked past the kitchen. Obvious really."

Taken aback slightly, John sighed, "Okay, just take a look in my wardrobe to find something to wear while I get you some ice for your back. Your ribs look a bit worse for wear meaning that they could be bruised slightly which would explain why you're in pain but if you feel up to it, then maybe we can go out and collect mud samples later."

A grunt of possible agreement was heard from the mop of hair and John exited to go to the kitchen.

John stepped outside the house with Sherlock in tow. The taller of the two boys looked odd wearing the big jumper and shabby coat but it was warm and comfortable. Looking up, John found Sherlock's gaze drifting around the street, as if he was looking for some sort of danger.

"Look, a murderer isn't going to just pop up and kill you in the street. It would cause a whole bunch of problems. Now come on the park's this way." John said, tugging at Sherlock's sleeve.

Stumbling after him, Sherlock groped the air to balance himself, managing to grasp John's hand in the process. Abashedly, he looked down at their joined hands and back up to Sherlock's face. The grip on his hand was still tight and he couldn't pull away from it. Staring at Sherlock's wild expression, he let the poor boy take the comfort of the hand holding and decided to walk down the street.

He didn't factor in that his neighbours were watching.

Strolling along at a comfortable pace hand in hand, Sherlock couldn't help but notice that, for the first time in his life, he was enjoying being in the company of another person. He didn't know what it was but the warm stirring within his chest made him smile and forget the pain in his back. But despite the new feeling being unknown, he wasn't scared by it. He was curious. He wanted to explore the feeling more. To know it, to understand it.

Clenching John's hand, Sherlock lent into John's shoulder, "Is it long to the park?"

Chuckling, John replied, "No, it's just down the road here. And quit your whining, it's only been five minutes."

"Fine."

The park was in the middle of a huge playing field. A group of rebellious teenagers were smoking in the far corner and John immediately let go of Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock looked down at the loss of contact, but didn't question it as he saw the group of boy's turn around and stare at them.

"Collect your mud samples then, I'll just wait on the swings." John said awkwardly, turning to walk to the play area.

Strolling to the opposite side of the park, Sherlock bent down patting his pockets- but the sample tubes weren't there. He sighed and got up, wandering over to where John was, happily swinging on the swings.

He sat down beside his new friend, "I forgot the sample containers."he admitted.

"Really? All that intellect and you can't even remember where you left your sample things." John quipped.

Looking down at his feet, Sherlock blushed, "I had to delete some things. And can I use your phone? I need to get my brother to come and pick me up. It's getting late and I don't want him to worry."

John nodded and handed Sherlock his phone.

After phoning what John presumed was his brother, Sherlock turned back to John.

"My brother will be here in five minutes. I presume it is alright to exchange clothes tomorrow." Sherlock stated rather than asked.

John was about to reply when a huge black car rolled up to the side of the playing field.

The curly haired boy got up and left John by the swings. Raising his hand, he waved.

"Bye, John."

"Bye." John replied, in awe of the boy's eccentric ways.

Once at home, John couldn't stop smiling. Even though he had broken school rules in which would have serious repercussions, he really enjoyed having Sherlock around for company. Sure he could be annoying and blunt at times, but he was quite endearing too. Like the way he sought out John's hand for comfort and the way he blushed when he was ashamed at forgetting something. Things like that, things that made him human.

He just wished Sherlock could have stayed longer.

A buzz knocked him from his thoughts and John fumbled in his pockets for his phone. Picking it up he saw that he had a text from Molly, his best and only friend.

-Where the hell were you today!? I know you weren't sick because you always text me when your ill. Please, was it your mum again? Miss you xx-

He replied in earnest.

-I was with someone. I bumped into them and they needed my help. I will tell you more at school.-

Turning his phone off John made a cup of tea and disappeared up to his bedroom.

A/N

This is a rewrite of my first ever multi-chapter, I'm not an amazing writer but when I first wrote this it didn't flow, it was very jumpy and I ended it abruptly without it making much sense. So I bring to you the new and improved version of the story with continuity and proper punctuation! Okay now lets get on to the proper A/N...

Title is from The Killers When You Were Young I think it suits where I'm going to go with this and it should make sense at the end of the story.

I hope you enjoy the rest of the fic and if you read the first version of this then I hope this one is much better.

I shall update ASAP (which basically means when I get time hehe)

Please read, review, and favourite! All constructive criticism is welcome, I need to improve. :)