A/N: Fairly short, but I thought it was a nice bit of background about some of the most important people in the Sherlock canon that we don't often hear about! The "Baker Street Irregulars"! Enjoy!
Of Poor, Unsuccessful...
"Alright Jason, if you can pass the word around – it would be beneficial to you all if I can find this out." Sherlock shook hands and passed a £50 note to the young man in a rather surreptitious manner, but the youth nodded in understanding and left the sitting room of flat 221B. Jason was one of Sherlock's most highly trusted members of the homeless network that he often used as a resource of information. Sherlock's ever increasing number of cases had meant that he couldn't always do all of his research by himself, and this was where his "Baker Street Irregulars" came into the picture because they could find out the information that Sherlock needed and he would pay them well for their services.
John had always found it strange that Sherlock, who was essentially part of the British nobility, used a straggled band of down-and-out men and women as a conveyor belt of information. Mycroft always gave across the impression that he felt uncomfortable when Sherlock alluded to or brought in some of his network into a case; Mycroft believed that his blue blood made him above these people – you could almost sense him itching to wash his hands when he was still in the same room as one of them. The reaction of the two brothers were so different, where Mycroft didn't like them, Sherlock seemed to relatively enjoy their company – like he was used to it. Sherlock saw the inquisitive look on John's face as he watched Jason leaving the flat.
"I lived with Jason at one point." Sherlock said abruptly, breaking into John's unconscious wanderings. "Well, we both stayed in the same factory." He corrected himself; John stared at Sherlock, Sherlock didn't often talk about his past so when he did John listened intently. "He was in the care system but he got kicked out when he was sixteen, so he used to bunk underneath a bridge."
"How did you meet him?" John asked carefully.
"I was bunking under the same bridge." Sherlock answered, leaning back in his chair and resting the tips of his fingers together. "You know something of my past John; you know that I was an addict." Sherlock appeared to be incredibly calm as he spoke about the past, but John knew that it wasn't easy – it wasn't nice for him. "I deferred my final year at uni to go and smoke crack and do other stuff. That's how I met Jason, and Andrew, and Rochelle, and all the people that now make up my network."
"So, they were your friends?" John asked, feeling that he had a bit of a better understanding suddenly.
"I wouldn't say friends… You just, " Sherlock was really thinking about what he was saying. "When you're on the streets you look out for the people on your patch, they're in the same position as you are so you look out for them… And they look out for you. You didn't want to find any of your people attacked, or dead, so you were protective."
"So it was like a bit of a family?"
"I reckon you could look at it like that. I'd been in boarding school from the age of eleven, and everyone there formed gangs of some sort or another. It was just like being back at school." Sherlock nodded. "I didn't like school." John had wondered about Sherlock's life before he had met him, and he had gotten the impression that Sherlock had spent quite a bit of his childhood on his own. He was still rather isolated in his personality, even now as an adult, but the reasons to that had been shrouded in a kind of haze of the past that couldn't be touched unless Sherlock allowed it to be. "The only reason I got off the streets and off the cocaine was because of Mycroft." Sherlock stated, "It took him a while, but he tracked me down and shoved me into a rehab facility. I didn't get a choice, but I'm glad I did it because it gave me the opportunity to do what I'm doing now."
"And you decide to keep in touch with them?" John was staring at Sherlock, aware that in this decision he had made to involve the community that he had lived among he had displayed an enormous amount of generosity and care. Despite his insistence that he didn't have friends, Sherlock's range of acquaintances was much bigger than he would want to admit.
"They see and hear things that most people don't. They're more useful than the police in locating sources and finding information; most of them trust me too – cause they've known that I was once one of them and I'm not about to turn them in over anything. And it's a chance for them to earn money… Which, contrary to popular belief, isn't getting blown on smack or booze. Most of them are destitute because of the government systems, and believe me that's something I've raised with Mycroft enough times…" John couldn't help a smile crossing his face and he shook his head ever so slightly. "What?" Sherlock asked frowning.
"So, in a roundabout way, you're still looking out for the people on your patch? Still making sure that they're not dead, that they can get a bit of money by doing menial tasks that they would probably fulfil in their everyday life anyway?" John commented and Sherlock appeared puzzled.
"I haven't thought about it like that. I guess I have, but they give more to me than I ever give to them – I need them as much as I need you."
A/N: Next chapter will be called: "And Fat People's Lives."