Alright, then. Here is Chapter 1.


P.o.V. - Sherlock

He stared at the spider intently as it worked it's way across the off-white textured ceiling. He wasn't supposed to be there, and he knew it. He just didn't care. Beside him, his phone buzzed, signaling a text message. He grabbed the phone and opened the screen.

Where are you? -MH

Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Mycroft was a control freak. When Sherlock had turned twelve, he had convinced him that they had to run away. Sherlock had gone with him, and almost instantly regretted the decision. He texted back:

Somewhere where you won't find me. -SH

Mycroft always called him melodramatic, but in his opinion, he never took it too far.

Come back now. -MH

The spider made it to the corner and began to spin it's web. Sherlock watched it's intricate dance carefully, taking note of each step. He didn't bother with texting his brother back. It would be a waste of time. He just stared at the arachnid and let his thoughts consume him. He was fourteen-old enough to take care of himself.

Glancing at the phone screen again, Sherlock saw that it was 7:04 p.m.. Cursing under his breath, he jumped up and started towards the entrance of the abandoned building. He had to get out as soon as possible. At about seven each night, a group of druggies came in and did whatever they did. Sherlock wasn't too keen on meeting them face to face. He made it to the window just in time to run into them.

Great.

There were seven of them- all in leather jackets and whatnot. Two of them were smoking. The leader saw him and smiled. Sherlock glanced at him warily.

Alcoholic father.
Mother works overtime.
No siblings.
Two dogs- German shepherds.
Unintelligent.
Bad grades in school.
kleptomaniac.

"Hey, kid. Whatcha doin' here?" he said.

"Nothing."

"Ya sure?"

"I was just leaving."

Several of them laughed. Sherlock didn't understand how that was supposed to be funny.

"I'll tell you what," the leader said, stepping closer. "You seem like a good kid. I'd be willing to sell to ya."

"Sell what?"

He stepped closer again. None of the others moved. "Whadda ya want?"

"To leave."

Sherlock counted them again. There was the leader and five others. He could have sworn there were seven. Yes, there had been seven of them. Turning around, he saw the other one right behind him.

"I'll give ya yer first dose free," the leader said. "The rest you gotta buy. We're here at night all da time."

This was why he had wanted to leave.

"I'm not interested."

The guy behind him grabbed his wrists and the leader pulled out a syringe. They injected something into his arm, then dropped him.

"Ya know where ta fine me when ya want more. Unless yer still not interested."

The group went inside, leaving Sherlock on the ground. He tried to get up, but he was dizzy and his vision was swimming. He propped himself up against a wall and tried to think. It was hard. Whatever they had given him slowed his brain down, and he hated it. He finally managed to get to a shadow of the building and transport himself home. That had been part of the reason that they ran away- being able to do things that they shouldn't have been able to do.

He landed on the floor by Mycroft's desk.

"Well, brothermine, you actually decided to show up?"

Sherlock still felt dizzy.

"Shut up, Mycroft."

He vacantly heard his brother put his book down.

"You're slurring."

Was he? No, that didn't make sense.

"No..."

At this point, Mycroft was standing. He practically dragged Sherlock to the couch and made him sit down.

"Look at the light."

Sherlock hated the light with a passion. He would absolutely not voluntarily look at it. He managed to shake his head.

Mycroft growled something and forcefully made him stare at the chandelier. Then he muttered a curse.

"What did you take? What happened?"

Sherlock shrugged.

Mycroft made him lie down and try to sleep, leaving a water glass next to him.

"You're in trouble."

He didn't have the strength to reply. The dizziness took over as he trudged into the mysterious realm that is sleep.


P.o.V. - James Moriarty

Idiots. They were all senseless idiots.

He smiled his fake charismatic smile at people, greeted them politely, and told jokes. They didn't notice anything. They didn't understand anything. They were stupid. Useless. Imbeciles.

One of the Sophomores came up to him grinning.

"Hey, Jim! What's up?"

He forced a smile. "The sky. How are you, Carl?"

Carl Powers kept grinning. In all honesty, Jim thought that it was slightly disturbing.

"Ha, funny. I'm better than you, I bet. Won the swim meet yesterday!"

"That's great!"

People are stupid. So, so stupid.

"Yeah. Can you swim?"

"No."

Carl laughed. "Seriously? Dude, I gotta teach you. You could drown, ya know. You're short and it rains a lot in London!"

He gave a fake laugh. "Could you?"

"Sure. Tomorrow after school? I'll meet you at the pool. Hey, look at that, I'm a poet! See ya then, Jim!"

Carl walked away laughing.

Stupid.

After school, Jim went to his small collection of poisons and grabbed his vile of Clostridium botulinum. Carl had eczema. Therefore he had medication. He just had to put the poison in the medication.

Then next day after school, he met Carl at their assigned destination. Carl walked out to the water and stopped.

"Oh, Jim. This goes in my bag. Can you put it there?"

Jim smiled and took the medication. Once he was in the locker room, he put in the poison. Then he went back to the pool. Carl showed off many elegant strokes, then got out of the pool.

"Understand?"

Jim smiled and nodded.

"Good. Come on."

They went into the locker room. Carl put the medication on his feet, then his sock and shoes.

"Oh, wait!" Jim said.

Carl stopped.

"Yeah?"

"You forgot to show me how to float."

Carl smiled at him as if he were a small child and took off his sock and shoes.

"Alright," he said. They went back to the pool, and Carl got into the water. He suddenly froze up and began to panic. Jim smiled, lifting up his hands and watching the flames lick around his fingers.

"I never did like water."

"Help me!" Carl cried.

"Hmm, no... I'd really rather not."

Carl fell back into the pool, staring at Jim. His eyes were full of fear.

Jim kept eye contact and said, "You laughed at me."

Then he got up and left with the shoes, leaving Carl Powers behind to die.


There'll be more later. Thanks for reading!

TempestWolf999