Weirdo

Freak

Loony

Nutter

They don't understand, Sherlock thought, frustrated, as he pounded on the pedals of his bike. No one does. I'm too smart for them. But I'm also too alone.

The day had started off alright enough, Sherlock wasn't in a good mood but he wasn't in a bad one, either. He didn't have feelings. At least, that's what he thought.

However, as soon as he stepped into the building, the bullying started. If he was lucky, some kids would just give him nervous looks and promptly vacate the area. Then there were the Overly-Popular kids, as Sherlock called them.

The Overly-Popular kids were comprised mostly of the sporty, athletic boys and their girlfriends. They were the ones who came to school on motorcycles each day, the ones who attended the parties with lots of drinking and alcohol. And they disliked Sherlock. Very much.

Sherlock was confused at first, why they kept throwing carrots and beans at him during lunch hour. It wasn't like he bothered anyone, he always occupied the corner table farthest away from everyone else, face buried in a book. Yet inevitably, every day someone from their table would come over and harass him. Normally it didn't bother him, they were just incompetent morons jealous of his superhuman intelligence. But today was different.

"Mister Holmes, may I talk to you for a second?" Professor Verner, Sherlock's calculus teacher, called. "It's about your last test."

Sherlock didn't look up from his notebook, but he nodded to show he was listening.

"You see, when I made the test," the professor continued, "I accidentally wrote some wrong answers on the answer key, and you got all the questions that I wrote wrong, wrong. You're a smart kid. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I know." Sherlock replied.

"I beg your pardon?" Verner asked.

"I know I'm smart," Sherlock answered, mouth twitching, "but I didn't cheat. I didn't look at the answer key."

"Then how do you explain your grade?" demanded Professor Verner. "A mere coincidence?"

"The universe is rarely ever so lazy," Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes, "No, professor, I didn't look at the answer key but I know how you think, where you were most likely to make a mistake when solving the problems yourself. I deduced the answer you would've reached to be consistent with the answer key, simply because I assumed you wouldn't notice the errors you had made. I was...mistaken."

Professor Verner smiled. "I know you're bored. But that doesn't give you any excuse to not work hard."

Sherlock frowned. "Professor, I don't think I—"

"I'll have to phone your parents, maybe detention." Verner said seriously. "For academic dishonesty and deliberately lying to a teacher." He stood up. "Did you seriously expect me to believe that you 'deduced' the answers to the test, Holmes?" With that the teacher swept from the room, leaving Sherlock fuming in his chair.

"I shouldn't have tried to be clever." Sherlock muttered angrily to himself. "I should've just solved it, even though it's boring."

The click, clack, click of the bicycle wheels intensified as he pedaled faster, not caring where he was going. He was too smart, that was the truth of it. He was too clever, and people hated him for it. No one believed him, understood him. What was the point of being clever if he couldn't prove it?

This had been coming on for a while. The acute sensation of hopelessness and loneliness that would sometimes strike when he was at his weakest. Like a scrape, or a paper cut, it was small but it hurt so much and he wished it would go away. He wished it could all go away. The sunlight hit his eyes and the wind changed directions as he turned onto the freeway. How would it be if he could just...leave?

Sherlock's arms seemed to turn the handlebar of it's own accord. When he realized what he had just done he tried to yank it back, but it was too late. His bike slid on the icy road as he plunged straight into the tide of oncoming traffic.

ooOoo

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Sherlock slowly opened his eyes, expecting a bright room but instead meeting only darkness. The only light source was the full moon, visible beyond a line of trees outside the window. Sherlock patted the bed and looked around. This isn't my room, he thought. Where the hell am I?

He rolled over on one side, trying to find a bedside lamp or something of that sort, but yelped as he put weight onto his right arm. It was broken.

Suddenly he heard footsteps, and the sound of the door opening. He looked up, expecting a doctor or nurse, or one of his parents at least. Instead, a long-haired brunette entered the room, her face clouded by a shadow.

"You're up." She said cheerfully, pulling out a phone. "Big brother will be pleased to see you."

"Who are you?" Sherlock asked. His mouth was dry and instantly wished he had something to drink.

"Um...Kaity." She replied, texting something. "There. Sent." Kaity tucked it away.

"You're lying," Sherlock narrowed his eyes, but she merely smiled and tilted her head. "You're working for Mycroft now?"

"Yeah." Kaity said. "Water on your left. He'll be here in a moment." Just like that, she left. Sherlock wanted to ask her more questions, as to how he got there, but he had a funny feeling she wouldn't be able to give him any more answers.

"Ah, Sherlock." Mycroft sidled in, closing the door behind him. "What a state you've got yourself in. My assistant and I were able to smuggle you out of the hospital just in time, before they could ID you."

"I lost control of the bike," Sherlock piped up automatically. "It was windy and slippery and my hands were numb."

"But we both know that's not quite true." Mycroft sighed. A pause, then, "Sherlock, I've been monitoring you, ever since I found you in your hidey-hole three years ago, high as a kite. Your drug habit has almost disappeared, except for select occasions that happen very rarely. Your mood has been improved greatly, nothing could've predicted this. Why did you drive into the road, on purpose?"

"Technically, it wasn't on purpose." Sherlock countered, defensively. "I tried to swerve when I realized what had happened. I did try, Mycroft."

"A try that did spare your life, but not your arm." Mycroft nodded to Sherlock's hand. "What happened?"

Sherlock began to relay the events, not just the math test, but everything that had happened lately. When he finished, Mycroft sat back, deep in thought.

"I should've seen this coming," he said quietly to himself. "The cutting, the drugs...Sherlock, you've been granted the unusual gift of an extraordinary brain. It is both a blessing and a curse. I say curse because it can be hard to relate to others. We are easily frustrated and misunderstood."

"We?" Sherlock asked. "You mean, it happens to you too?"

Mycroft smiled sadly. "All the time, brother dear. Why else do you think I'm so fat?"

Sherlock paused to think. Mycroft was invincible. He could stand anything. At least, that's what he thought. Maybe they had more in common than they liked to think, but rather than stress eating Sherlock turned to more debilitating activities.

"I don't want to do this, anymore." Sherlock spoke up, suddenly. "I want to get clean, try to have a normal life. It isn't working."

"I'll see what I can do." Mycroft stood up, stretching. "I know of a few centers nearby. But rehab is hard, Sherlock. You need to commit, and above all else, trust in others."

Sherlock hesitated. "I can trust people. I've always trusted you."

Mycroft looked slightly surprised at that proclamation, but didn't react otherwise. "There's a pot of chicken stew I just made. I'll have her bring it in for you. Don't spill it on my sheets." With that, he left, Sherlock already feeling better.

Author Note:

I wanted to start this story off really fluffy and happy and then let it take a more darker tone, mainly because I felt like having some...fun...with my readers. :). Here's a literal excerpt from my notes:

"I'm planning on starting it super cheerful and upbeat, then literally shoving my readers off the roof *no pun intented* into a mess of substance abuse, self-harm, depression, suicide attempts, swearing and violence...etc."

On that happy note, new chapter coming later this week. See y'all!

-Irene xx