AN: Hey guys! /embarrassed smile and awkward wave/ I've been gone a while, haven't I...? Sorry about that. Hopefully I'll be able to update once every 2 weeks now, maybe sometimes once a month, because of school. I've been kinda on a low point, but I'm getting over that, and I'm back to writing! Anyways, don't wanna keep putting this off. Hope you enjoy! -Evin R.


After around four minutes, Sherlock realised that pounding on his cage and yelling John's name repeatedly will not help the situation at all. That didn't mean, however, that he was giving up. If the scientists did anything to hurt John, Sherlock knew he wouldn't be overly pleased. He never had anything close to a friend, or someone who was friendly towards him. Every second of life counted in the School; fates could change in a split moment, children died and lived under the hands of the scientists. Eventually, John will become one of the deceased and forgotten experiments, but Sherlock was not about to throw away the first ray of hope that had come in seven years.

Most people usually just told him that he was crazy, or a bastard, or a freak. John was someone that treated him as though he was…normal. Sure, there had been plenty of young children that had come into the facility for experimentation, but they had never initiated conversation with him, or had time to. If they had, they never continued for more than a few seconds. Human contact was limited to the scientists, who treated him exactly like what he was: an experiment. However, John…if they changed him to become…different…like him, or like the others… Sherlock shuddered at the thought, and tried to ignore that feeling of dread growing inside the pit of his stomach.

Eventually, Sherlock ceased the pounding on the cage, and sat back with a huff. His mind was already figuring out all the different scenarios that could lead him to escape the cage and, eventually, the room. That would require a lab coat, or something to cover him up, though. Sherlock pondered on his situation until he grew weary. Mrs. Hudson should be coming along in approximately seven minutes with the breakfast tray; it would have to wait until then to see if anything had happened. Though the old lady didn't exactly act like it, Sherlock knew she cared for all of the humanoid experiments. She had motherly instinct despite the fact that she never bore any children.

"ZZ?" a voice whispered, tapping on his cage and causing Sherlock to jump and hit his head. Mrs. Hudson bowed her head down and crouched next to the cage. Of course; it was breakfast time.

"Here you go dear, the usual." The old janitor said while handing Sherlock a piece of bread. Sherlock thanked her quietly and munched on it, relaxing himself a bit. Mrs. Hudson watched him eat, moving around so that the security camera faced her back.

"Has that lady said anything to you recently?" she whispered to the boy. Sherlock nodded and swallowed.

"Yes. Donovan informed me that there was a new shipment coming in. Must be White Coats and others of… my kind… I suppose, since the ratio of experiments to scientists has increased," he said, taking another bite of the bread and chewing thoughtfully.

"However, all of the experiments die so quickly. Before, they just had the test-tube creations living with me and in other rooms, but now, they've started capturing actual children." Sherlock continued, his voice growing cold. Mrs. Hudson reached in between bars to take his hands, rubbing them reassuringly.

"It's your friend, isn't it?" she asked quietly, but dropped the subject when Sherlock's eyes started watering. He never cried in front of anyone, but when nearing it, he would throw temper tantrums and attempt to reach the light. Mrs. Hudson didn't want him injured more than he was already, so she tried to distract him.

"Is there anything else your scientist said that could be useful?" she asked, watching his face as it regained his normal composure.

"Nothing else. I feel that she is starting to doubt the system more," Sherlock whispered gleefully, "and Lestrade too. Although he hasn't visited me in a few days." Mrs. Hudson smiled slightly at him, and used the top of the cage to help herself stand up.

"That's nice, dearie." she said fondly, and Sherlock latched onto the bars, looking up at her.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" she said, pulling a small object off her stand and handing it to Sherlock. He rolled it around in his hands, and grinned widely when he saw what it was.

"I found it in your last room. They were about to discard it; it happens every time, and every time, I'll get it back to you, dear." Mrs. Hudson winked, pushing the cart out carefully as to not let any light in Sherlock's direction. Sherlock clutched the tiny skull in his hand, and lifted it up to eye-level to examine it.

"No damage done other than a minor scratch on the right parietale. Bastards will pay for that." he chuckled, hugging the skull close to his body. The door suddenly swung open, letting the light from the corridor in. Sherlock howled, trying to push himself back as far as he can, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. He could barely hear the panicked scrambling or the door shutting, but felt his body sag in relief as the pain subsided into a dull thud. He glared down at his arms, which were red and raw from exposure.

"Crap, Zed, I didn't realise your cage would be right there. Sorry about that." Sherlock heard, then footsteps approaching. Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Lestrade." he muttered, nodding to the scientist. Lestrade wrung his hands, unsure of whether or not to console the boy. He was a bit- no, very unpredictable with his actions, and it never hurt to be cautious around him, despite the fact that he was an experiment. The most valuable experiment, Lestrade thought wryly, watching the boy's skin slowly turn from red to pinkish, then back to the pale shade of white he was normally.

"Mrs. Hudson and I were just discussing the situation." Sherlock said cautiously, and Lestrade jumped, looking around for a camera and covering it with his back.

"Yeah, she told me. It's why I'm here. IOU started to conduct experiments on full-grown children now." Lestrade said, running a hand through his short grey hair. He didn't know what he was expecting, but Sherlock gave no reaction, which was almost worse than a reaction.

"I know." The boy replied curtly, hugging his knees and looking at the skull next to him. Lestrade raised an eyebrow.

"How would you know?"

"One was in this room for a little while before they took him off." Sherlock said, ignoring Lestrade's gape of surprise.

"I see…" the man said, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly. "Well, anyways, I haven't gotten any new information other than that. Though I would like to know why they're doing this now all of the sudden." he mumbled to himself. The two of them were silent for a few minutes, pondering, and then Sherlock spoke.

"You may want to leave now." he said.

"What? Why? What's going on, Zed?" Lestrade asked, his eyebrow twitching. The boy was their only source of gathered information, since all the members of the opposition party could only meet once or twice a month at most without being caught. Every moment and every piece of hushed information counted, but unfortunately, the experiment was the only way to successfully file their knowledge away without risking their lives.

"It's Sherlock. Not Zed. I'll explain later," he said, annoyed, and then waved his hand towards the door. "It's because a White Coat is coming." he insisted, and Lestrade nodded, opening the door slightly and carefully slipping out.

Sherlock tensed as he heard Lestrade's nervous laugh in the corridor. He couldn't tell what was going on, having tinted windows, but strained to see anyways. Footsteps leading away, turning the corner, and running. The other pair of footsteps approaching. Heavyset, but not lighter than most. A man of the skinnier side.

The door opened and Sherlock shrunk back, but the light didn't hit him. The stranger closed the door softly, but just as Sherlock was about to lean forward in his cage, he flipped the lights on. Brightness flooded the room as Sherlock struggled to make himself as small as possible in the centre. The footsteps approached, and Sherlock could sense it, could feel the man enjoying this. He peered out and saw not a white lab coat, but black shoes, and slacks. The stranger bent down to peer at Sherlock's face, his eyes flitting back and forth before he finally smiled charmingly. He reached into the cage to rest his hand on Sherlock's head, and spoke in a silky voice.

"Hello, Sherlock, my name is Jim. Jim Moriarty."