"Shit." The dark curly haired boy was hunched forward cradling his left wrist. The other boys had stopped work and were crowded around the 'freak'.

Blood ran down the boy's wrist. Robert leaned over him.

"Trust you freak." Robert turned away from him in disgust." Does anyone know where Mr. Carra is?"

John stepped forward. "I-I can help him. I'm training to be a doctor." He was in his third year at university and could easily cope with the deep cut in the boy's wrist.

"Okay then, medical kit's in the kitchen." Robert ushered the other boys away and carried on clearing the restaurant finally giving the boy some privacy.

John rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the large green box from the wall. Grabbing a clean tea towel from a draw he rushed back to the boy.

The 'freak' was sitting in the corner of the restaurant muttering furiously to himself. John sat down next to him quietly and laid the first aid kit on the table.

"Put this around your wrist and apply pressure." John was surprised at how calm he was being he hadn't even been allowed in a hospital yet. "What's your name by the way? It's certainly not freak."

The boy took the tea towel gladly and pressed down on the cut. "Sherlock. " He refused to make eye contact.

"I'm John." John rifled through the medical kit looking for the supplies he needed. "You can take the towel off now."

Sherlock took the towel off of his arm. John poured some disinfectant on to a cloth and cleaned around the blood on the Sherlock's arm.

"It isn't too deep but I think you're going to need to have stitches." Sherlock sighed and looked away from his wrist.

John began to clean the cut tentatively, trying not to notice Sherlock wincing from the sting of the disinfectant.

John rifled through the medical bag looking for a sterilised needle and thread. "I apologise in advance." John murmured as he threaded up the needle.

Sherlock spoke properly for the first time, staring shrewdly at John. "Aren't you supposed to instil some confidence in your patient as a doctor?"

"I've only been studying for three years I haven't even set foot in a hospital properly yet. You should be okay though." John relaxed a little as he swabbed Sherlock's arm with alcohol to numb the wound. He took a deep breath and carefully stitched the cut.

Sherlock kept silent while John worked, he was aware of the deep concentration that enveloped John's face.

"There we are, you're all done." John sighed deeply in relief as he cut thread. John reached into the medical kit for a bandage.

"Thank you. I-I didn't expect anyone to help me." Sherlock looked at the floor. His eyes flicked up to John's face.

"That's okay. It was good to practice on a real person." John looked around the restaurant the other waiters had left and Mr. Carra was cashing up the till.

John wrapped the bandage around Sherlock's wrist. "I'll take the stitches out in a week or two and then you should be fine."

"Thank you again. You really didn't have to do this."

"No as I said it was good, well not you cutting yourself but the experience." John couldn't help but notice the sad look in Sherlock's eyes. He took a glance over at Mr. Carra but he walked into his office to get his coat.

"I guess we should be going." John put everything back into the medical kit and stood up from the dining chair.

"I guess you're right." Sherlock bent over and blew out the lone candle that was left flickering on the table he was sitting at with John. It was now dark now and the main road outside was quiet.

They both walked into the locker room to get their things. John pulled on his jacket and put his rucksack back onto his shoulders. "How are you getting home?" asked John for need of something to say.

"Oh, I walk it's not too far." Sherlock tied a blue scarf around his pale neck.

"Oh, I'm getting the bus. I'd better be going; I have classes in the morning. Bye Sherlock." John left the locker room and walked into the restaurant but he heard footsteps behind him and turned around. It was Sherlock.

"John, I just wanted to thank you again." Sherlock made a weak attempt to smile.

John was confused. How many times had Sherlock thanked him now?

"It was nothing. Good night then." John nodded at Mr. Carra who was locking up his office and left the restaurant.

John leaned his head against the window of the bus and shut his eyes. He had never expected his part-time job to be so hectic. His mind kept wondering back to Sherlock, why did they call him freak? He seemed alright, perhaps a bit hostile but apart from that he seemed nice. John could feel himself drifting to off sleep and hoped it wouldn't be this busy tomorrow.

Sherlock walked along the road, the winter wind grazed his cheeks. He kept thinking about John. Why did John not adopt everyone else's attitude towards him? Most people did, it was their first shift at a new job, it was normal to want to fit in but John was different. He sighed. His breath was visible in the cold air in front of him. It would all change as soon as John saw him for what he was.