Story No. 3

Hey all! Little forward note here: thanks to emedealer, Guest, The-Scorpio-Holmes-Sister-221B, and olechkin1 for reviewing! It's very helpful and encouraging. Also, I was not aware that Molly actually did have a cat, Toby, so I apologize. If I can figure out how to edit the chapters, I'll be sure to change that last one (but Toby still dies. Sorry Molly!)

Anyways, the prompt for this chapter came from user sfk123. Thank you so much!

MANY YEARS EARLIER

It was the spring of Sherlock Holmes' fifth-grade year. The school cycle was almost over, and the seeds of summer dreams were all sprouting in the children's minds. Everyone was excited and wound up for the year to be over. All except Sherlock Holmes. Summer was just like spring, which was just like winter, which was just like fall. There was no variation to him: he was always bored. School curriculum was never challenging, and breaks were just as uninteresting. Today was no exception.

It was the last class period before dismissal on Friday, art, the class Sherlock detested most of all. Art was meaningless to him, the teacher was old and deaf and didn't know what went on in her class the majority of the time, and all his classmates took advantage of it. They threw supplies around the room, screamed as loud as possible, and engaged in other typical, inappropriate, childish behavior. Sherlock loathed them all. He sat in the corner of the classroom by himself, observing (and judging) everything that went on. He watched as one boy opened a jar of paint and threw it onto a girl next to him. A blonde girl with a bossy attitude stood yelling at another girl: something about "Jimmy is mine" and to "back off". He rolled his eyes. They were all so immature.

Sherlock turned to see a small brunette with wide brown eyes hiding under a table. Three boys, the class bullies, surrounded it, trying to get her out from underneath it. He watched as one managed to grab the girl's ankle and drag her out. They shoved her against a wall, hit her, and then stuffed her in the supply closet and locked it. There was a pounding on the door, and it was evident that the girl had begun to cry. The three boys laughed and walked off, leaving the poor girl banging on the door for help.

Sherlock was appalled. The girl had done nothing to provoke them, yet they beat her and locked her up. He looked over at his teacher, certain she would surely do something about this, only to find her sound asleep in her chair. Sherlock groaned. Slowly, he stood and walked over to the three bullies who were still laughing at their handiwork.

"Excuse me." Sherlock said. One of the boys, clearly the ringleader, turned around and glared at Sherlock.

"What do you want, weirdo?" he said stupidly. The boy's accomplices high-fived him for administering such a 'cutting insult'. Sherlock sighed.

"I would like to know what that girl did to deserve such harsh retribution. If you don't mind." Sherlock stared into the leader's dull eyes and tapped his foot, waiting for a reply. His ears registered that the volume of the room had decreased drastically, except for a hopeless pounding on a closet door: everyone was watching what was transpiring with bated breath.

"Molly? Well, she's Molly. What other reason do I need?" he said with a cruel smile. "Now get lost, weirdo, before you get the same treatment." The three boys jeered at him, then turned their backs on Sherlock. A collective "ooh" went up from the crowd. Sherlock bared his teeth, stepped up and tapped the leader on the shoulder. The boy turned around angrily.

"I thought I was pretty clear –" was as far as he got before Sherlock punched him square in the face. He managed to land a few more punches before the three boys overpowered him. He was beaten, lifted up, and then literally thrown in the same closet as the girl. He heard the door slam shut again and the lock click from his sprawled position on the floor.

Sherlock sat up, bruised and angry in the dark of the closet. A small voice came from the corner of the blackness.

"They got you too, didn't they." The voice wavered with lingering pain.

"So it would seem." Sherlock said in reply. He got to his feet slowly, his battered joints groaning in protest. He kicked the door and jiggled the handle, trying to escape. Laughter roared from the other side of the door, then faded as the three boys walked away.

"Don't bother, I already tried. It's good and locked," the girl said. Sherlock sighed and slumped down against the wall, his back aching. He heard the girl slide over to sit next to him, and he felt her clothes graze his arm.

"I'm Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes." he said, attempting to break the awkward silence.

"I know. We've been in the same class since first grade. You sat next to me all last year." The girl said in reply.

"Oh." He thought for a moment. "Molly Harper, right?" The girl sighed.

"Hooper, actually." Sherlock nodded. He shut his eyes and tried to envision a plan of escape. Multiple ideas came to mind, but none seemed like they would work. He dropped his head in frustration. They sat still in the darkness for what seemed like an eternity, until Molly spoke again.

"I'm scared." she said, her voice small and timid. Sherlock turned towards her.

"Those idiots can't hurt you when you're locked up in this closet, what's to be afraid of?" he said. "Honestly, we're probably safer in here. Unless, of course, we can't get out, and we begin to suffer from dehydration and starvation. Then the fatigue and desperation will set in, and soon enough we'll probably end up eating –"

"The dark!" Molly interrupted ashamedly. "The-the dark. I'm afraid of the dark." Sherlock looked at her huddled form incredulously.

"You're afraid of the dark? That's ridiculous! Aren't you a little old to be scared of such a childish thing?" Sherlock said, his tone loaded with sarcasm.

"Yes! No! I don't know! It's just…scary!" Molly replied, humiliated at Sherlock's reply. More silence permeated the airspace. Suddenly, Sherlock readjusted himself so he was sitting directly in front of Molly's embarrassed form. Her head hang low, barely distinguishable in the lighting.

"Listen," Sherlock said, lifting her chin so that she faced him. Her eyes caught the small amount of light that flooded from under the door, and they shined with barely withheld tears. "The dark is a literal lack of light. The only thing it does is make things harder to see. It can't hurt you. Sure, it's a bit disorienting, but that's all it is. It won't hurt you."

Molly nodded and wiped her eyes. "Ok. Ok." They sat together in silence for a long time, listening to the racket of their class drone on. No one had seemed to remember or care that there were two young people locked in a supply closet. Molly looked at Sherlock, boredom setting in, and tried to make conversation.

"Got any siblings?" Molly asked. "A brother, but he doesn't count." Sherlock said in reply.

"Pets?" Sherlock stiffened. "No. Never."

"Um, what about –" she began. Sherlock stood up, interrupting her. "Shut up. I'm tired of this. Let's break out of here." Molly smiled and bit her lip. I like him. He's weird, she thought. Sherlock rummaged around through the mess of art supplies until he found a pack of paintbrushes. It was time to test the one idea he'd had that could work. He paused, his ear pressed against the door. The absence of noise told him that the class was over, and everyone had been dismissed: the coast was clear. He fumbled around until he managed to grab the skinniest paintbrush. He stuck the handle into the lock, trying to pick it open, but failing. He tried three more times before he threw it to the ground in frustration. Molly bent down and picked it up.

"Here, let me try." Molly stuck the brush into the lock and picked it with ease. The door swung open noiselessly. Sherlock stood gaping at Molly.

"What?" she said with fake innocence. "I know a few tricks." She grinned at Sherlock, who still looked at Molly with a bit of amazement streaked across his face. The two walked out into the empty art classroom, taking in the mess of paint and supplies strewn across the room. Molly laughed at the sight of their art teacher, still fast asleep in her chair. Sherlock looked over at Molly, trying to read her. She's nice, and pretty. Wait, what? He shook his head. That was something he'd deal with later.

"Well. It's been fun, Molly Hooper. I guess." Sherlock extended his arm for a handshake. Molly looked at his hand, then up at Sherlock. She leaned forward on her toes and kissed Sherlock on the cheek.

"I heard you sticking up for me. Nobody's ever done that before. Thank you." Her face colored as she saw Sherlock's eyes widen as big as saucers, and she smiled embarrassedly. "Well, I'll be off. My mom will be looking for me." Sherlock nodded vigorously, his curly hair bouncing.

"Yeah, uh, yes, well, you're welcome, and, I'll, uh, see you round." Sherlock said, still disconcerted by Molly's kiss. He watched her as she walked out of the room, rubbing her battered shoulder. He sat down on the floor, thinking about the strange girl he just met. He didn't know then that she would grow to be one of the most important people in his life, one he couldn't live without. He didn't know how much he would need her, how much he would love her. But that was ok. Even though he had quite literally taken a beating for it, the one thing Sherlock Holmes did know was that he had made a friend.

How'd I do? I was really excited to write more, so I think I might've rushed it a bit. Was it ok? Please send me more prompts! I love them! Thanks for reading, and as always,

PLEASE REVIEW!