Hey peeps, what's up in the hood? It would have helped if I put a question mark at the end of that, well I did now so oh well. Um not much else to say except Hi. See ya.
"Of course," Sherlock wished those two words never came out of his mouth.
Sherlock never really cared about what people thought of him, never really cared what they said behind his back you to his face. Whatever they did was their own business and they were idiots anyway. But on this day he felt bad, hurt, and felt something happen inside his chest. He didn't like the feeling at all but he carried it around with him throughout the school day, going over everything that was said, making sure he didn't hear it wrong, trying to find a way to make what was said wrong. Maybe he interpreted it wrong; maybe the other was drunk and slurred his words together. He knew those theories were wrong, he knew what the other did the night before and it defiantly was not drinking.
Sherlock was so used to having walls up around him so no one could get close, and those walls had signs that made sure that no one wanted to get close. For years he was doing fine, fine being the cold hearted person every new comer was told to never go near. He had a feeling that all the rumors about him circulating around the big school had gotten to his friend and tore him away. He finally had the biggest warning told to him and that made him look at Sherlock in a different way.
He wished could speak with him about what he said that morning, but maybe they were no longer on speaking terms. If he texted would the number come up unknown, he wasn't sure. He never lost a friend before, mainly because he never had one to lose. He was determined that he never wanted to have this feeling again so he would never have a friend again, it was a simple state for him to think and maybe even say aloud, but as some have said "easier said than done."
"Sherlock," Anderson's voice pulled him away from his internal thoughts.
Sherlock slowly looked up from his empty piece of paper to the teacher. "Yes?" he said in a deep uncaring tone.
"What's the answer to number three?" Anderson asked, staring down the younger boy.
Sherlock stood up and sauntered to the front of the class. "Would you like it in a scientific formula or idiot form?" he asked in a flat tone.
Anderson glared at him and took the marker from his hand. "Your seat now," he ordered.
Sherlock just stood there and stared at him. "Sleeping on the couch again I see," he said with an amused smile. "My, my we've been a dirty boy."
The teacher's breathing became heavier as he gripped the dry erase marker in his hand. "You have no right to say that to me Holmes," he said sternly. "I'm going to have to send you to the head master."
Sherlock's face became stone as he stared at his infuriating teacher. 'He chose the wrong day to mess with me,' Sherlock thought as he grabbed the marker from him. "Try and keep up," he said and started writing a formula onto the board. "See this number Anderson, that's the number eight I know it's hard for you to remember such big numbers."
"Holmes back to your seat," Anderson demanded stamping down his foot angrily. "I will not report you if you go back to your seat."
Sherlock clenched the marker tight in his hand. "You asked me to answer the question sir why are you telling me to stop now?" he asked. "Three weeks."
"What?" Anderson asked holding back his urge to hit the other boy. "Holmes you are coming with me."
"You're mother is dying and she was only given three weeks to live," he stated. His mind was on overload right now and he was just sprouting out deductions trying to settle himself down. "Your wife is also cheating on you. You are unhappy at your job and are planning on quitting soon, shame you never will."
"Sherlock," a voice said from the door.
Sherlock stopped his frantic writing and deductions. He turned to see his brother standing in the doorway, a small unnoticeable frown placed on his face. "Mycroft what are you doing here?" he asked capping the marker and turning fully to him. "I do not need you at all."
"I was called by Anderson to come and take you to the head master," he told him flatly. "Follow me."
Sherlock watched for a second as the other Holmes walked out of the room in one swift movement, he soon did as he was told and followed close behind. "I didn't do anything wrong," he told him in a matter of fact way.
"You insulted your teacher," Mycroft told him flatly.
"No," Sherlock started, "I insulted an idiot."
"He called me to help," Mycroft said. "He told me to get my freak brother out of his room."
"Proves that he is not a suitable teacher," Sherlock pointed out swiftly.
"Sherlock I know what happened today," Mycroft started.
"I know," Sherlock said annoyed. "You don't know how to leave people alone."
"Did you hear him out?" Mycroft asked slowing his walk as he got closer to the head master's office.
"Of course," Sherlock lied. 'Just like before," he thought to himself bitterly.
Mycroft knew he was lying but said nothing of it. "What did he say then?" he asked with an amused tone.
"You were practically there why do I need to tell you," Sherlock shot back. "Six pounds Mycroft, that's getting a little high."
"Sherlock," Mycroft said annoyed with his younger brother. "Now is not the time to be making jokes about my weight."
Sherlock stopped his stride and turned sharply to his brother. "Then tell me Mycroft what is it time for?" he asked keeping his voice flat.
Mycroft laid a hand on his shoulder and looked him square in the eye. "I think you know what this time calls for," he said looking in the direction of the office.
Sherlock turned forward again and caught sight of what his brother was looking at. He set his jaw and asked, "Why is he here?"
"He's in trouble," Mycroft simply told him. "I think you're turning him into a bad kid."
Sherlock gave him a glance before returning to the blond. "He is never going to be a bad kid, he is too good for that," he told him.
The other lifted his head, most likely hearing the voices, and caught Sherlock's eye. He frowned and quickly looked away. "Talk to him Sherlock," he ordered.
Sherlock walked towards the other teen and stood in front of him, casting a big shadow over the smaller one. "What are you doing here?" he asked in a demanding voice.
John lifted his face to look up at Sherlock again, sending dull daggers his way. "I'm in trouble," he answered coldly.
Sherlock noticed the split lip and black eye that was forming around his left eye. "Why did you get into a fight?" he asked another question.
"Because," was his answer this time not looking at the genius.
Sherlock glanced down at his shoes then back to the blond. "We need to talk John," he told him.
"About what?" John asked getting loud and emotional. "You made it very clear this morning; I don't need you to explain to me why."
"John you're my friend and we need to talk," Sherlock told him with more force. "I don't care what I said this morning." He was slightly confused by what John said that he made it very clear in the morning.
John looked up at him again. "Jack said that you were a freak and deserved to die," he told him quietly.
So yeah this was a little more on the weird side I think. I am very sorry if I got any of the characters wrong I'm horrible with characters. Characters make me feel awkward, so yeah. I like this chapter because I know what's going to happen next chapter so ha, you guys don't know and this time the author knows before you ha ha aha ha. I do hope you enjoyed it and I hope you all have a good weekend. BYE!