Hello! Yes, I'm back! Thank you to anyone who has stuck with this story in the huge break I took. I'm so sorry, but I sort of lost my muse for it. But it's back and I'm back and everything's great. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate them! And now, onto the next chapter!
Being a teenager was no holiday, Mycroft later ammended to himself. He had never really been very good at personal relationships, but this was getting ridiculous. It was only his second day but he was still getting funny looks anytime he spoke or walked by. He had tried talking to some of the students, but they found him too odd or mature for their tastes, and quickly ended his attempts at conversation.
He sat by himself at lunch, staring dejectedly down at the food John had packed for him that morning. His day wasn't going very well, so far, and it was only going to get worse after school. He and Sherlock had their first therapy sessions after classes, and neither of them were looking forward to it.
Just as he was about to stand from his spot at the empty table, a dark haired girl and her blonde friend sat down across from him. He looked up in surprise and watched in confusion as another boy followed them and sat down beside the blonde girl.
The dark haired girl was quite pretty, and she was the one that was staring at him with a wide smile. She thrust her hand out to him and he tentatively reached out to shake it. "Hi! I'm Marci Fox. These are my friends, Angela and Aaron McCarthy. They're siblings." Her smile never faltered, though he assumed he had to look like an idiot with his mouth hanging open in shock.
"Um, yes. Nice to meet you all. I'm Mycroft Watson," he explained, using the name they had agreed to use in public, seeing as John had practically adopted them. They were still waiting on the papers to go all the way through, but Anthea was anything but unreliable.
And that seemed to break the ice. Mycroft actually found himself smiling fondly at the three teens before him that were extending the hand of friendship towards him. They spent the rest of lunch chatting, and Mycroft found that he had a few classes with each of them throughout the day. Whenever they were in the same class, they would group together, and readily invited him to join them.
He found that he really enjoyed having friends.
Sherlock liked his class. It wasn't hard at all, but it was entertaining. They were always doing something, and there was hardly ever a dull moment. He enjoyed his teacher, a young woman with long red hair and constantly smiling blue eyes. She wore long skirts and bright shirts and always seemed happy. His classmates were annoying sometimes, but then again, he found that he could be quite annoying too.
He had made a few acquaintances, people that he felt comfortable sitting with and sharing his crayons with. Some of them were even interesting, and actually thought his deductions were 'cool'. It wasn't like when John called him 'brilliant' or 'fantastic', but it would do for now.
"Sherlock! Do you know how to do this?" Anna asked him sweetly, shoving her book towards the dark-haired boy. Sherlock looked down at the book and saw it was elementary maths, and nodded, smiling at the little girl. She was always asking him for help, but he found he didn't really mind. She had pretty brown eyes that sparkled as she laughed and long curly hair that she flicked over her shoulder constantly. He liked her very much.
"Of course. What don't you understand?"
The girl giggled, and pointed at one of the problems. "Could you do an example, you think?" Sherlock nodded and set to work on one of the problems, keeping up a constant explanation to Anna. When he was finished, the girl smiled again and took the book back. "Thank you, Sherlock. I get it now." She continued to smile as she turned back to her book and set to work on another problem. Sherlock felt a light fluttering in his chest at the thank you, and smiled shyly down at his own workbook.
Yes, he was starting to really like being young again.
John stood outside the school, waiting for his boys to finish with their classes. He was standing with a sea of other parents waiting for the school to let out, and he studied the others around him curiously.
There were mostly middle aged mothers standing in tight groups with other mothers they knew. As he looked around, he only noticed a total of ten or fifteen fathers standing scattered throughout the parents. One man caught his attention immediately, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention.
The man was tall, with a military haircut. His hair had originally been blonde, but he was starting to get grays. He was muscular and held himself calmly. Too calmly, too relaxed, in John's opinion. It looked like the man was trying to seem like he fit in there, and that he was just picking up his own child, but he was standing away from the other parents, and wasn't focused on the school at all. The man was staring at the playground, where a few of the younger children were gathering by their teachers so they could be collected by their parents. That by itself wasn't odd, but the fact that Sherlock was in one of those groups had his hackles raised. The man didn't seem right, and his instincts were rarely wrong.
As he made his way towards the children, he kept an eye on the other man. He was either being incredibly paranoid, or he was right and someone was following them. As he saw Sherlock chatting in line with a little girl, he slowly relaxed and smiled at the sight. Sherlock was energetically waving his hands around, smiling happily towards the little girl that nodded along to his words.
It made his heart warm, seeing Sherlock so energetic. It almost made him forget about the strange man. Almost, but not completely. As he moved forward to collect Sherlock, he went down on his knees and smiled at Sherlock's friend.
"Hello, Sherlock. And who is this? Did you make a friend, love?" Sherlock blushed and nodded, knudging the girl at his side.
"This is Anna. Anna, this is John Watson, the man who adopted me and my brother. He was good friends with our parents," Sherlock lied expertly, giving the girl a shy smile.
"Hi, Mr. Watson! Sherlock's told me all about you and his brother. It's nice to meet you, but I have to go. My Mum's over there," she said excitedly, pointing at a young woman with a pinched face but she wore a soft smile when she saw her daughter pointing. The little girl flounced off and John chuckled, gathering Sherlock to himself.
"She seems nice," John murmured quietly, poking Sherlock playfully in the shoulder. He looked around for the odd man again, but didn't see him anywhere. That didn't always mean that he had gone away, though.
"She's just a girl who sits next to me," Sherlock grumbled, completely oblivious to John scanning the croud with a furrowed brow and suspicious eyes. "Can we go get Mycroft now?" the boy whined, tugging on John's hand to lead him towards the front of the school, where Mycroft would arrive in a few minutes.
"Yes, Sherlock." John held his boy's hand tightly and turned to look at the front door of the school, shoving the thought of the odd man out of his mind, chocking it all up to his paranoia. "Look, here he comes," John pointed out, and Sherlock twirled around to find Mycroft gliding down the steps surrounded by another boy and two girls. They were chatting, and John was surprised to see Mycroft with a large, genuine smile on his face.
"Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted, waving his short arms in the air to get his brother's attention. "Over here!"
Mycroft turned toward them and his smile softened. He said goodbye to his new friends and headed over to John and Sherlock. "Mycroft, I'm happy for you! You've made some friends." John was beaming proudly down at Mycroft, who ducked his head and blushed.
"Well, it's not unheard of, John. I am capable of making friends on my own!" he grumbled, knudging John with his shoulder as a tiny grin snuck onto his face. Sherlock grinned wide and snuck between John and Mycroft, tugging them toward the nearest tube station.
"I don't believe you're excited to be going to therapy, so what's going on, Sherlock?" John asked disbelievingly, tugging Sherlock to a stop a few blocks away from the school.
"I don't know," Sherlock said innocently. "I just want to get this therapy thing over with, so we can go home. So, c'mon!" They started walking again, and John just exchanged a look with Mycroft, who was just as suspicious of Sherlock as John.
John was just too happy that his boys were doing well at school. From the way they had turned out as adults, he had been expecting far more problems with them acclimating. To see them smiling and laughing warmed his heart beyond belief. As they took their seats on the tube, John thought that they might just make this work out in the end. Everything would be alright. Yes, yes it would.