Sherlock Holmes was not well liked throughout his academic years, by his 5th year of Secondary school he had all but alienated all his fellow students, and carried around a kind of arrogance which made him seem almost completely robotic. No one had really tried to get to know him and as such he kept very much to himself, standing idly behind the old trees in the schoolyard, frightening potential friends off with his deductions. However, all that changed when he met a boy by the name of Victor.
Although Victor or Vic to his friends was a rather instant hit with the other kids, he seemed to have an air of aloof loneliness which instantly sparked an interest with Sherlock. One day Sherlock was alone, and then suddenly he was not. The other children still eyed him surreptitiously and he still received threats on an almost daily basis, but it was made more bearable by the other boy's presence. Vic had spotted Sherlock on his first day at the godforsaken place his parents called a school, forced to attend everyday he was rather quickly influenced to stay away from the kid they called "The Freak."HHH
Vic, having rather the nose for trouble, deliberately ignored their snide comments and chose to occupy himself with the rather interesting loner. The other kids worried about the young man's sanity; who in their right mind would willingly choose to be friends with a Holmes? Alright, Mycroft at least had pretended to be civil, but Sherlock was an entirely different kettle of fish. Although not academically astounding, Vic provided a somewhat new way of life for the company starved Sherlock, finally, he felt needed.
When Sherlock had told his elder brother about his new accomplice Mycroft had smirked, convinced that little good could evolve from this unfortunate union. He was wrong. Over the coming months Sherlock's personality began to evolve, he once again showed signs of the caring person he used to be, before his mother's death, before he and Mycroft fell apart. The elder Holmes had to admit that it was rather refreshing to see this change in his brother's demeanour.
Vic enjoyed Sherlock's company, a loner by nature himself, he didn't often find someone that he could easily converse with, he had to admit that, although strange at times Sherlock Holmes was an interesting challenge, a Rubik's cube of contradictions, which Vic had begun to unravel.
They even started to visit each other out of school hours, gone were the nights when Mycroft would arrive home to the sorrowful Violin, replaced by chatter, incandescent and otherworldly, echoing down the desolate hallway. He wouldn't admit it openly, but Mycroft Holmes was jealous, jealous of this boy who could inspire such happiness in Sherlock where he himself had failed, it wasn't fair, what had he ever done to receive such punishment?
Over the year Vic and Sherlock became close friends, thick as thieves people in the corridors stopped interrogating the duo and simply glided past without a word. It was blissful; for once Sherlock wasn't forced to worry about the next threat or anyone's intention of actually carrying it out. The fast friends found solace in each others complications and discovered that a heart need not be crushed insincerely. Vic was everything that the isolated Sherlock needed in a friend, loyal, happy, and interesting; with the other boy by his side there was little that could upset his happy balance. Even Mycroft's doubts began to dissipate when he saw the joy on the two boys faces as they completed their latest experiment or read the latest mystery novel.
Sherlock was experiencing the best phase of his life so far, and despite their differences, the two Holmes brother's relationship was beginning to self repair. They no longer regarded each other as enemies, hostile glances were replaced with tight smiles and deductions were changed into small jests. They would never recover their full innocent, untainted relationship but for the sake of each other they clung onto the once strong remnants.
Vic was not entirely clear on the brother's way of life; he simply did not understand the well concealed resentment bubbling under their cool façade's. When he brought up the subject with Sherlock, an instant dismissal of the topic was all he received, although he noticed that over time they became less vehement, leaning more towards the sentimental shunning that all siblings seemed to go through.
Sherlock was happy, he was experiencing that not all emotions had to be shutdown that you needed a heart to survive, yes ice sculptures were beautiful, but without the cold to protect them, they began to thaw and crack. Mycroft was an ice sculpture and Sherlock was the sun, destined to be each others destruction, but also each others saviour. Sherlock realised that without Mycroft he would not be the person that he wanted to be, but he also knew that without a heart, there is no point in living; you are merely drifting through the proverbial life, simply existing.
There is a photo in one of the Holmes family albums, tucked away at the back where hardly anyone would think to look. Apart from the early memories none of the brothers care to look back at the time period between then and now, they shield themselves from the memories they themselves created. This photo is a reminder to Sherlock of what he enjoyed in Vic's friendship, a piece of paper that proves he was human. In it two smiling boys of around 16 stand in front of a grand house, the sun shines brightly proving that it is around July, they are both soaked evidence of a water fight, the taller of the two smiles lopsidedly, his lanky arm swung around the shoulders of the auburn haired mid height one. Both are truly happy, content in their environment, if you look closely you can see the figure in the background, an air of dignity surrounding them, their face indistinguishable, carrying an umbrella despite the sweltering heat. It is not clear enough to see, but on the figures face is a rare smile, reserved only for his brother.