Authors Note: HEYO! XD Please tell me what you think; I would love to know XD I own nothing and no one, apart from the following: Fredrik Jones, Theodore Wells.

JUST SO YOU KNOW: This is my FIRST attempt at Sherlock and Johnlock, so please be kind!

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ALSO: I made up middle names and first names for certain characters, just so I had something to work with ^_^

Chapter 4

Sherlock

My third day in the Watson house, Mrs Hudson managed to convince me to spend some time with them all – thankfully, she stayed with us all, joining us for some tea. Instead of sitting in the living room where we would all be at least a little comfortable, we were all gathered in the kitchen, sitting at the table. Honestly, I did question the intelligence of people...

So far, it had been three and a half minutes - and counting - since we had all sat down and, still, no one had spoken. Now, don't get me wrong, I liked silence. I did some of my best work in silence... But when I was told I had to be in a situation where people would talk, I expected them to talk.

But I said nothing. I sat there quietly, waiting for someone to get the ball rolling.

In my head, as I waited, I started to compose another piece for my violin. It was easy to do - all the sounds were safely stored in my Mind Palace for easy access, so I could compose on the go. It was extremely useful when it came to tedious social interactions that my parents forced me into. Sometimes I would compose, other times I would open the door to pieces I had already learnt - or even songs that I just liked that weren't for the violin - and play them through my head. It was relaxing - it helped me cope. Of course, my parents would always notice that I wasn't giving the situation my one hundred per cent attention and I would pay for it, once we were home alone. I shuddered lightly as the music continued to play in my head, the delightful sounds starting to fade as memories of what my parents thought was suitable punishment flooded my mind.

I barely noted the change in my breathing pattern, it was that slight. Not until a hand landed lightly on my arm, causing me to jerk violently and almost topple out of the chair. Mrs Hudson had been the one to touch my arm, being the only person to be able to identify any change in my behaviour. She was good at noticing things like that. The woman gave me a small smile, pushing my tea a little closer to me as she rubbed my arm lightly... Sometimes I wished Mrs Hudson had been my mother.

"So, Sherlock, are you looking forward to starting year twelve?" Mr Watson asked, a warm smile on his face.

They don't know...

"I won't be in year twelve, I'll be in the year above." I sighed. "My IQ is far higher than those at the school, including the teachers. I would be starting University come September, but my parents refused to let me..."

"So you're in Johnny's year?" Harriet questioned, gesturing to her younger brother.

I simply nodded, picking up and taking a sip from the mug of tea in front of me. Honestly, I thought they would have known. When Mother and Father first brought me to the house, when they were trying to convince the Watsons that I was something that they obviously didn't think I was, I would have thought they'd have pretended to boast about my skipping a school year. Apparently not, though.

"Well, isn't that amazing." Mrs Watson gushed.

At least someone thought so.

I had to endure many questions - what I liked, what I didn't like, what I liked to do, what my favourite lesson was... I had sat there for over an hour answering endless questions and I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. I wasn't used to people taking so much interest in me. I wasn't used to people actually wanting to know. I was used to being ignored, unless I had done something wrong.

I had tried countless times to try and leave the conversation, trying to put an end to it... Apparently I was far too subtle in my attempts. It was getting a little heard to breathe and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. My hands wouldn't stop shaking, my palms sweating profusely... I hated when my anxiety acted up. I clenched my jaw, starting straight at the table top, curling my hands into fists, hoping that I could get some control over what was happening. Not that it ever worked. It never worked.

In the end, I just walked out.

I knew that could be risky. They could react exactly like my parents - lock me in the dark room... But I had to do something. I couldn't stay there and have so many questions thrown at me.

I would have gone upstairs, but I knew that would be the first place they would look for me and the living room was out of the question. There weren't many places for me to go inside the house, so outside in the gardens was the only other choice. I went to a different spot compared to the one before, finding myself surrounded by groups of flowers. The flowerbeds surrounded a small, beautiful fountain reminiscent to a waterfall. My parents didn't have a fountain at their place, always muttering something about them being tacky and hideous. Like many things, I disagreed with them. Yes some were far too extravagant, but some, like the ones the Watsons owned, were really quite lovely.

Slowly, I laid down by the edge of the fountain, watching the water as it fell, listening to the calming sounds. The weather was still fantastic - hot and sunny, quite perfect - so I didn't have to worry about a sudden shower of rain, unlike any other day. Something about being outside always seemed to calm me - something about the tranquillity. It was nice. I let my eyes close softly as I lay there, just listening to the water beside me and the birds above me. I couldn't understand how it could be so calm and quiet, I couldn't understand how it was so soothing... It was frustrating beyond belief - I was supposed to know everything...

Sighing, I tried to think of something else, something...happy. There weren't many things that actually made me feel that emotion, so many things that I had yet to experience to know what emotion it would cause. Honestly, I didn't know if I could actually feel that emotion.

Huh, I really was a freak.

I couldn't for the life of me tell you how long I was lying there for. I could get so lost in my own head that a whole day could go by without my knowing. But I knew that a large amount of time had to have past, considering I could hear the footfalls of someone approaching me. The footsteps were inconsistent, immediately letting me know that John had found me - he was easy to identify, what with the cane and the psychosomatic limp. The seventeen year old stopped near me, sitting down on the edge of the fountain, not making a noise or moving towards me at all. I just lay there in silence for a while longer.

"I'm not good with people." I ended up saying after a few moments. "I can't seem to handle them very well, nor them me. I'm don't handle being questioned very well, especially about myself. I don't know what it's like to have a friend, I don't know what it's like to have people that are actually interested in learning about me, so you must excuse how I deal with it."

I couldn't understand why I was explaining myself to John. I had never done that before - not that anyone would have cared... I couldn't understand why I felt the need to now... But John - John seemed different. He hadn't shied away when I first made my deductions, he had marvelled in them. At school, he was the only one that had yet to call me a freak, not that he had really interacted with me, but still... From what I knew of the young Watson, he was unlike all the other 'goldfish' - as my brother called normal people - in the world.

"It's fine, I tend to be the same with people asking questions about me. Bit strange, you know?" John agreed, his tone soft. "I don't blame you, and I think mum and dad understand they went a bit overboard. Just... You can ask them to stop, you know that right? They'll understand if you want them to stop."

These people were increasingly annoying. Anything I assumed they would be like - based on my deductions from my parents' other acquaintances - were totally wrong. The Watsons were the complete opposite of my parents and the other people they knew... It was a little disconcerting, yet...refreshing. I couldn't understand it and it was terrifying.

But maybe that was...good?

John and I spent some time outside by that fountain, the youngest Watson leading the conversation and taking care not to ask too many questions. It was...nice.

John told me how the scar on his left shoulder was caused when friend's of his parents came to the house last summer, John's father and his friend going hunting - not that Mr Watson liked doing such a thing. John hadn't known about this, taking to walking around the wooded area near his house... Unfortunately, Mr Watson's friend saw movement and mistook John for an animal, pulling the trigger. The scream that came with John being hit was the only reason they knew it was his and not an animal. The surgery had gone well, though he had lost a lot of blood - the only thing left now was a memory and a 'bloody nasty scar'. The limp had come shortly after the incident.

During the retelling, I had shifted from lying on to grass to sitting opposite the seventeen year old, for once in my life listening intently to someone else.

"Can't play rugby anymore, but I make do." he smiled.

"You are strangely optimistic." I mused.

"Is that good or bad?"

"Bit of both."

John's smile must have been infectious. I couldn't even remember the last time I smiled, but he seemed to bring it out in my easily.

"So, how come I never really see you around school?" John asked, frowning slightly. "I see you in lessons, sure, but never anywhere else."

"I spend most of my time in the labs or in the library." I shrugged. "No one likes me, I don't like anyone, so I keep myself to myself. It's...safe."

"Mind if I join you some time? I need a little help in Chemistry so, maybe, if you don't mind, you could explain a few things to me? Our teacher is great, don't get me wrong, but his explanations are..."

"I would not mind. Though I could easily help you here..."

"I know. But it helps that the labs at school have everything we would need."

Now, don't ask me why I agreed so quickly to help John. I wasn't that kind of person and I barely knew the younger Watson. But there was something about him, something that I couldn't put my finger on, that was different. He was different compared to everyone else. Different in a way that, maybe, possibly, hopefully, could mean that for once I could have...a friend.

I hadn't had a friend since I had lost Mycroft. I hadn't had a friend since Father put a bullet through Redbeard's head. Maybe John Watson could be my friend...

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