Account statement, you're the winner thing, charity leaflet, another you're the 1000th winner thing… John was going through the regularly boring Monday mail when he found a thing that caught his attention.
"Sherlock?"
Sherlock was contemplating in his armchair when John gave him the postcard.
"It's a primary school reunion invitation."
"I can read, thank you."
Sherlock let the card fall on the floor, continuing with his contemplating.
"Are you going to attend?"
"I am not," Sherlock said.
"Why? It can be fun. You'll meet your friends again, see where they've gone since you'd last seen them… I bet the class playboy is a utility worker and the class beauty owns a musty hair salon for old ladies."
Sherlock snorted slightly, looking straight ahead.
"So are you going?"
"Of course not," Sherlock said. "What a ridiculous idea."
"I can't believe I let you do this…"
John chuckled. The reunion took part in a smaller restaurant with a banquet and people were walking around them, chatting.
"I'm sorry, but to see the class of Sherlock Holmes was too tempting to resist…"
"Oh bloody hell, look who's here! It's Sherlock Holmes!" a dark-haired man shouted all of the sudden.
"Unbelievable! They let you out of the nuthouse?" another man asked.
"And who's this fellow, your counsellor?"
"Most probably tells him when to shut up…"
"Which is always…"
The group that gathered around them roared with laughter, all of them keeping their amused eyes on Sherlock.
"I'm actually his friend," John said, feeling the need to introduce himself and punch each one of them in the face.
"Friend?" the dark-haired man repeated. "So you're too from the nuthouse?"
Another burst of laughter. John faked a smile, narrowing his eyes.
"Hello, Richard," Sherlock said his first words since he'd entered. Richard shook his head in bewilderment, looking Sherlock up and down.
"I bet with Tom and Dave you wouldn't show up…"
"And here I am…" Sherlock said silently, shifting his eyes from one to another.
"So tell us, how are you? I'm dying to know…" Richard said, grinning.
"I'm doing fine, thank you. I live in a –"
"Remember Merlin?" Richard interrupted him, looking at John.
"We had a hamster in the class and Sherlock was calling it Merlin, would you believe that? Who would name a hamster Merlin?"
Richard was obviously enjoying it while all the others were laughing and giggling with him.
"Sherlock was just so weird, you know," a woman said to John. "It was the weirdest thing you could see with his scary mind tricks and stuff… Are you really his friend?"
"Or did you pay him to pretend it?" Richard added, laughing.
"Aren't you exhausted from all that laughing?" John remarked but Richard was unstoppable.
"You know the class types, right?" he said. "The clown, the mad genius, the odd kid nobody likes… We had it all in Sherlock. He even had a nickname – the freak."
"Cute…" John said. "It must have taken you ages to think that up."
While Richard was frowning, John glanced at Sherlock. He was watching his former classmates with a rather icy look. John was sure he knew what would follow.
"Hi, Susan," Sherlock said, "don't be sad your husband doesn't want to sleep with you, he's just met a younger, better-looking woman."
Sherlock turned at a man beside shocked Susan.
"And you, Mike, I remember you claiming your father would make you his successor. So why do you work as a garbage man? Or that's your family business? Nice to see you, Paul, found a new cheap porn shop? And you, Alex, when have you found out your wife is a lesbian? Oh, you haven't. I'm so sorry…"
Sherlock looked at Richard then.
"Richard, Richard…" Sherlock said with a glare that didn't predict anything good. "I must make sure to see your show. I've never been a big fan of cross-dressing art but I think I may give it a try…"
Sherlock fell silent then and walked away swiftly, leaving John standing there in the awkward silence, feeling extremely stupid.
"Well… it was really nice to meet all Sherlock's old friends… I've heard a lot about you… I mean, I've heard enough. And to be sincere – no, it wasn't particularly nice to meet you…"
John coughed.
"Have a nice day!"
When he was leaving, he could hear an angry scream: "My wife is not a lesbian!"
He caught up with Sherlock, who was marching down the street, frowning.
"Why haven't you told me your class was full of twats?"
Sherlock didn't say a word and John sighed. He could quite clearly imagine young little Sherlock trying to impress his classmates with his deductions, earning himself the label of the class lunatic. And if he thought they would accept him after all the years, he was wrong.
"Was there anyone in your class that… you know…"
"No," Sherlock said. "Nobody."
"I see…" John knew Sherlock wasn't just angry or disappointed. He was hurt. In his own way.
"Too bad I wasn't there," John remarked. "I could be your flunkey."
Sherlock chuckled a bit and John smiled, happy to cheer him up.
"So… when are we going?"
"Where?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Richard's show?"
"Oh…" Sherlock smirked. "This Saturday, perhaps?"
"Good," John nodded, "we must buy him a nice bunch of roses, you know, so we could throw them at him during the performance and scream for more…"
Sherlock laughed briefly, shaking his head.
"That's an excellent idea, John," he said. "Richard will love it."