The bus is an absolute disaster.
Sherlock and I agree to take it for the first week of school, at least, but Sherlock can barely stand the sight of it when we arrive at the stop. When the bus pulls over for the man standing next to us, he refuses to get on. Too many people, he insists. I tell him that we must catch the next one if we're to make it to school on time, but he is indignant. When the bus drives to the stop, I reach out my arm to flag it down. Sherlock pulls on my sleeve.
"I don't want to take the bus," he says.
"Would you rather walk to school and be late?" I ask him. I keep my voice level so he doesn't think I'm angry. "Not a good first impression on your first day back to primary school, is it?"
"But there are so many people," he groans, loudly enough that the woman standing next to us took notice. I take my brother's hand (which happens to be the only one he'll take) and lead him onto the bus. I flash my photo ID at the bus driver and we step on, free of charge.
"Stand here, Sherlock."
My brother stands close to me as we pack on. A tall gentleman notices us board, and he stands up to let one of us sit. I show Sherlock to the seat, nodding my head at the man in the suit. After the bus makes a stop, the woman sitting next to my brother stands up, and I take her place.
"It smells," Sherlock says sullenly. His eyes dart to the back of the bus. "And someone is wearing very strong perfume."
"It's a man's perfume," I reply, quietly, with an amused smile. "It's called 'cologne.' He must be trying to impress someone."
My brother shrugs at my guess. Obviously not the deduction he had come to.
"Is your school close to mine?"
"Close enough," I say. I wonder if that's a comfort to him, or simply disappointing news. He only nods once, so I can't tell. "I can see you at break, if you like."
"No, it's fine."
When it is our stop, I push the button and get ready to get off the bus. We have to squeeze past a large group of people, much to Sherlock's dismay. I place my hands on his small shoulders and guide him through. Somehow, we make it to the pavement in one piece. I quickly snatch his hand in mind to make sure he isn't lost.
"Not so bad, was it?" I ask.
"That was awful," says Sherlock.
That will have to suffice, for now. I simply smile and take him through the large gates of his primary school.
Some of the other students recognize my brother from the previous year of school, and they wave to him. "Hello, Sherlock," one boy says hurriedly as he runs by. My brother stares directly at the ground and says nothing. "Have a good holiday, Sherlock?" another student asks. Sherlock glances up. He gives a small nod, and still says nothing.
It's almost like my brother has become a different boy at school. I can't seem to get him to stop talking at home, but he nearly passes for a mute boy when he is with his classmates. I stare after the other boys.
"Are they your friends, Sherlock?"
"Classmates," Sherlock corrects.
"Yes, I deduced that," I tell him jokingly. Before I let him walk to class, I glance over his uniform and tidy his jumper. Without thinking, I smooth down his mess of dark curls, and he bristles under my hand. I forget that he doesn't like it when I do that, but this time I can't help myself. "Be good, brother. I'll pick you up this afternoon."
"Mm-hm," he says quickly.
He hurries into the school without glancing back once.
Sherlock's break is in the middle of my second course. I sit next to the window, and I can see the kids filter outside for their first break before lunch. The school is close enough that I can barely make out Sherlock's figure when he slowly walks out of the building.
This is the year I hope that Sherlock manages to find at least one other boy to become friends with. I nearly sigh aloud when I realize that he has taken a seat against the gate, reading a book by himself. Is there no one in his class that enjoys reading as much as he does? Surely there is another boy—I think to myself—that might read with him during the break?
"Holmes," says my professor in a sharp voice.
I turn my head. I've been caught staring out the window.
"Yes, professor?"
"Read the next section, if you please."
"Yes, sir."
After the school day is over, I hurry down the block and find Sherlock waiting for me, patiently. His teacher is with him, thankfully. She recognizes me as I approach, "There's your brother, Sherlock. I'll see you tomorrow, then."
Sherlock nods his head once to acknowledge her, though his eyes are still focused on the ground, before scurrying toward me. After we leave the primary school grounds and walk toward the bus stop, my brother seems to come alive with conversation. I smile to myself, and I wonder if he saves it all for me.
"I found a book on planets today," he tells me. He doesn't sound impressed.
"How did you like it?"
"There were so many facts," he sighs. "Most of them seemed useless."
"That's a shame," I reply. "What did you do at break, then?"
"I read the book. Didn't I say that?"
I frown, "You didn't talk with any of your classmates? Play games?" I try to hide the fact that I had actually peeked in on his break through my second course window earlier.
Sherlock furrows his eyebrows in confusion. He glances up at me briefly before staring at the pavement again. "They didn't ask me to join them," he explains. We walk on in silence for a few more paces, but when we arrive at the bus stop, he finishes his thought.
"I think I'd rather talk with you, anyway," he announces. Then he adds, jokingly, "Could I go to secondary school with you tomorrow, Mycroft?"
"You have to finish primary school first."
At this, he simply nods.
I flag down the next bus, and we board together.