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 6

Sherlock

Every night, John would wait a few hours, until everyone was asleep, before sneaking into my room a doing the whole tuck-in-story routine. It quickly became the only way to get me to sleep, even if he was just simply talking about his day. In the morning, I would wake up to find John already awake, but still in the bed, asking if I was alright before leaving to go back to his room.

That was the part I hated about our newfound routine.

As soon as John left my room, he would treat me a little differently. At the house, it wasn't so bad. During school? During school if there were any comments made about he and I, John would be very quick with the his usual 'I'm-not-gay' or 'we-are-not-a-couple'. It was...frustrating.

Now, yes, I did remember that I was the one to say I wanted no relationship with John on the day I moved in, but that had all changed. I had thought I had changed my mind only recently, only when he first came into my room after my nightmare. No. I had realised, once I had accepted it all, that I had actually been slowly falling for John Hamish Watson. He was different from everyone else, he was the first one to praise me for my intellect straight away and not be frightened of it. John was the first friend I had ever acquired. At first I wondered if that was it; wondered if what I was feeling was only friendship. However, after countless hours of visually studying the interaction between people who considered themselves friends, I realised that, no, it was friendship. I had debated asking John - Mrs Hudson and Harry too - but, I suppose, that would have been classed as 'not good'.

It was all very new and strange.

Relationships, no matter the type, were not my strong point. My relationship with Mycroft broke down, I never had a relationship with my parents, my relationship with my dog ended after my father shot him, I never had friends before John... Mrs Hudson was the only person I had ever had any type of relationship with, but that didn't tell me a lot. There was so much I didn't understand about it all. It was confusing.

It was confusing as to why I felt this pull towards John.

It was confusing why I found myself looking forward to going to bed.

It was confusing why John had pulled away from me and was acting so strangely.

It was just confusing and I didn't know what to do.

The days passed and, soon, we had slipped into December. We were only a few weeks away until the holidays, meaning it was only a few weeks away until I spent my first Christmas away from my family. Mrs Hudson had reminded me about presents, explaining to me that, yes, the Watson's do celebrate the holidays - including birthdays. It would be a first for me, that was for sure, but I did find a certain pleasure in finding gifts for people.

It had started off as a normal Saturday - I had gone outside to the gardens, something that I found myself doing if I ever needed to be by myself and think. It was cold but it wasn't warm either, just that weird in between. I had forgone a coat, simply slipping on a cardigan John had given to me during my first few weeks at the house, the fabric thick enough to fight off the chill but not bake me. I couldn't say how long I had been sitting by the fountain, staring at anything and everything, but the sun had rose considerably.

I had walked inside, stretching my arms out to hear them give a satisfying crack, when I heard the voice. I had heard the voice far too many times to not recognise it. At the sound of it, my back straightened, jaw tightening, the facade that I had started to break down over the three months of my living with the Watson's quickly flying back to the surface. I didn't want it to, I also didn't want to walk through the living room, but I had to if I wanted to grab my notebook before going to my room.

Walking into the living room, I found four people - John, Harry, Gregory Lestrade and Mycroft.

Mycroft.

Now, don't get me wrong, John warned me there would be more people in the house than usual that day, telling me his 'mate' Greg was coming around with his 'partner'. I just didn't realise John's 'mate Greg' was Mycroft's Gregory!

This was already a disaster.

Taking a breath, I walked into the living room, not paying the group any attention, hopping to get in and out without any problem.

"How nice of you to join us, Sherly." Mycroft's voice boomed from across the room.

"Yes, hello Mycroft." I sighed. "How's the diet going?"

Turning to face my older brother, I found that the smug look that had, no doubt, been on his face, had dropped. The fake pleasantness had disappeared, back in place was the cold shell of my brother.

"Obviously it's not going well - even from here I can smell grease from the full English you had this morning." I glared. "And you're teeth are sticking from the two - no, three - shortbread biscuits. Honestly, have you no self-control?"

"At least my manors are far better than yours, brother." Mycroft shrugged, trying to gain some dignity. "Surely acting your age would be more desirable than acting like a five year old."

"Maybe we should all calm down, yeah?" Gregory interrupted, as he gently tugged my brother closer to his side, whispering something in his ear.

Growling quietly under my breath, I seized the opportunity to grab my notebook and make my leave. I was so close, so close to making it out of the door and to the stairs.

"You really should change yourself, Sherlock." Mycroft called after me. "Maybe then they'll like you."

And that hit a nerve.

"Don't you dare tell me to change myself! If you lot don't like me how I am, how the fuck is that my fault, huh? People should like me for me, not an act they want me to put on!" I yelled. "I thought you of all people would understand, but no! Why would you? You always had it easier than I did - Mummy and Daddy's golden child, the perfect son! You have no idea what it was like!"

"Sherlock, you're being melodramatic again." Mycroft said, airily, fooling everyone but me that he was uncomfortable with the situation.

"No I'm not! You know that there is truth behind what I'm saying. You abandoned me and left me to deal with that all on my own, all so you could play favourite, just so they would stop doing it to you! You are no brother of mine!"

Storming out of the room and up the stairs, I refused to believe that my tears were from the hurt and the pain. They were simply due to frustration - I just had so much anger that this was the only way I could get some of it out of my system. It had nothing to do with how much it hurt to have my big brother be so cold to me, no not at all.

Ok, yeah, even I knew that wouldn't fool anybody.

Twenty seven minutes and thirty six point nine seconds later, there was a knock at my door. I didn't get up off of the bed to answer it, I didn't shout for whoever it was to come in - I just laid there, cocooned in my duvet of misery and self-pity. The door, however, opened anyway. It was opened and shut softly, as if the person thought any loud noises would set something off in me. That seemed to be everyone's default when someone was upset - do everything as quietly and softly as possible. I didn't get why.

As the mattress behind me dipped, I felt slightly muscled arms wrap around me as a body settled on the bed, pulling me back towards them. This wasn't normal behaviour for people who were supposed to be friends, that much I could tell... But it just felt so nice...

"I'm sorry."John whispered. "I completely forgot that he was your brother, I... I wasn't thinking."

"Not your fault" I croaked, sniffling slightly.

And it wasn't. John had no idea what to expect - Mycroft and I didn't even speak when we were in front of the Watson's when I first came to live with them.

"I still feel responsible. He had no right to say that to you - mum loves you; dad thinks you're great; Harry, ever since she got over the shock of you deducing her, always says you're her favourite person in the house; you're my best friend..." John told me. "You don't need to do anything for us to like you and there's nothing you need to change. You're great the way you are."

"Whilst I thank you for your kind words, I must disagree with your last statement." I huffed. "I am not 'great' like this."

But John was having none of it. For, around, half an hour we went back and forth, arguing over that one little comment. We both kept going on and on and on, until he moved me around to face him, moving one hand to gently cover my mouth.

"Now you listen up, Sherlock Holmes. Whilst I agree that no one's perfect and there's probably a few things the best of people could change about themselves, I am telling you now that I like you the way you are." John growled. "I don't know what kind of shit's happened to you to make you think otherwise, I don't know what's gone on with you and your brother, but you need to realise just how brilliant you are."

John didn't move his hand until he was certain I wasn't going to argue. He didn't get up and leave like I thought he would, he just settled down again and hugged me. I had rarely felt the sensation of being hugged - never by my parents, a few times when I was younger by Mycroft and a few times by Mrs Hudson. The feeling of being held was...strange, but I kind of liked it.

John

Sherlock didn't come down for dinner. It was the only time that I had actually left him. I would have gone straight back upstairs with a couple of plates of food, but I didn't think Sherlock wanted me there at that time.

The thing was, Sherlock and I had talked a little about life before he came to live with us. He didn't go into detail, a lot of what he told me was just about him and Mycroft when they used to get a long - I was curious as to what had happened to change that. He told me about a few things he remembered doing and I couldn't help but notice the signs. Wanting to be a doctor, I had read about a lot different illnesses and behavioural/learning disabilities and everything of the sort... So, of course, I asked if he had ADHD or some form of autism - possibly both.

He completely flipped out on my, yelling that he had nothing of the sort.

I know some people don't take well to being asked that sort of thing, don't like having to think there's something 'wrong' with them. I didn't see it as something being 'wrong', I saw it as something that made that person just a little more unique. I guess Sherlock didn't see it like that...

I didn't understand him, I honestly didn't. So I called the only person that knew what it was like to deal with a Holmes - Greg.

I didn't bother trying to delay the question, just jumping straight into it after exchanging pleasantries. Greg understood, of course. He even told me, when he realised the younger Holmes was being 'paired' with me, that I could call any time - though, to be truthful, this was the first time I had called.

"Yeah, I know the issue here... My and Sherlock had a bit of a rough patch when they were kids-" he started.

"A bit is kind of an understatement there, mate." I interrupted.

"Yeah, yeah, can I speak? Look, all I know about this is My would...torment the kid about those kinds of things, you know? My had nightmares for a long time about it all... Sherlock doesn't take well to being talked to about it."

"Kind of figured that bit out for myself... Has he ever been, I dunno, tested for anything?"

"Never. I don't know how much he's told you, but their parents aren't the nicest people around. He'll tell you in his own time and when he does, expect the worst. Just...take it easy when talking to him about this."

"Cheers, Greg."

"Anytime."

I couldn't understand how someone could end up being so cruel to their sibling that they reacted so badly to just one simple question.

I couldn't understand what could have pushed someone to the point of torturing their sibling, so they think their disability - though I do hate that word - is something to be ashamed of.

I just couldn't understand it.

Sherlock

I didn't think John would turn up again. I realised that yelling at someone, especially a friend, was considered a bit not good, but I couldn't control my reaction. It was like something you were so passionate about and someone putting it down - you defend it. I just happen to become protective of myself when someone tells me there is something wrong with my brain. Just like Mycroft did.

But he came back just over two hours after he had left.

I suppose I should have expected John to be a little freaked out after seeing the skull.

"Oh, calm down. It's only Yorick." I mumbled, placing the skull back on my bedside table.

"Where the hell did you get a skull?!" John shrieked.

"A thank you, from Graham's father. I solved a case for them."

"Who's Grah- You mean Greg? Yeah, he said you'd do that."

I shrugged, staring down at the duvet, picking at it slightly. I was too tired to argue anymore, I didn't want to argue anymore...

"You solved a case for Scotland Yard?" John asked, surprised.

"Many, actually. It was an accident, on their part, at first, now they bring me in when they work themselves into a corner. Those on top look over the fact that I'm still, in the eyes of the law, a child - they like the fact that they can lock up those that deserve it, even if it means getting a child to help and keeping it out of the media." I explained. "Yorick was a thank you - we had just wrapped up a six year long case, very intriguing but easier than I expected. It's not even a real skull."

"Would have been nice if you mentioned it wasn't real first!"

Again, I just shrugged.

My room was plunged into silence and John took that moment to walk further in. I could hear his steps, could judge how far away he was, yet it still surprised me when he sat directly next to me .

"I'm sorry. About earlier." John sighed. "You realise there's nothing bad about it, right?"

"Yes there is and there is nothing wrong with my mind!" I growled.

"Sherlock, having something like ADHD isn't bad. Nothing like that is bad. Harry's dyslexic, is that a bad thing?"

"Well, no, bu-"

"So there's nothing wrong with you having ADHD, autism or the like. Having it won't define you, but it might help you understand why you do certain things. I don't know what your parents or your brother said or did to you, but there is nothing wrong with any of it. It's fine, it's all fine. And, if you wanna get it checked out, I'll go with you."

Finally looking up at the eighteen year old beside me, all I could see in his eyes was sincerity. No deception, nothing. Just plain old sincerity. He truly believed in what he said, he truly believe that it meant that having some 'mental problem' wasn't a bad thing.

But what if I was reading him wrong? What if I just wanted to believe it so much that my own wants were clouding my judgement? I had already gotten closer to John than I first wanted to - what if that was the plan?

But my brain had never failed me before.

"I'll think about getting it checked out." I whispered, looking back down into my lap.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see John grin. The young Watson stayed sitting for a moment longer before placing his hand on my shoulder and getting up, saying he would see me later. I think I surprised both of us by what I did next.

"John! C-Could you stay? J-Just for a little longer?" I stuttered. "Please?"

All John did was smile, jumping back onto the bed, next to me.

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