WARNING: This chapter contains domestic violence and swearing, and a bit of bullying. Sorry.

"Mum, I'm home."

John dumped his bag at the foot of the stairs and walked through to the kitchen.

"Harry, why do you always do this to me? What do you expect me to do when you come home pissed in the middle of the day?!"

"I'm not drunk…"

John sighed, hearing the familiar voice of his drunk older sister. He walked into the room and made his way to the fridge as Harriet and mum continued to shout.

"I can smell the alcohol on your breath! Don't you dare lie to me!"

John pulled out two slices of bread and some jam, making himself a jam sandwich. He may have well been invisible based on how much notice his family was taking of him. They hadn't even realised he'd walked in the room.

"I'm not drunk. Ask Dave, I only had lemonade."

"That's bollocks, you don't think I'm…"

The shouting became more muted as John left the kitchen and made his way upstairs to his bedroom. He closed his door behind him and flopped onto his unmade bed, munching on his sandwich. Of course Harry is drunk. When is she ever not drunk? Lucky dad's not home yet, he'd kill her. John thought. He finished his sandwich and began writing his English essay, which was boring but better than trying to hear the TV over the shouting. He'd got halfway through when he heard the front door slam and heavy footsteps walk through the hall. Dad's home. John put his pen down and listened, hearing the muffled low tones of his father and the quieter voice of his mum. John expected shouting but none came. He breathed a sigh of relief; maybe dad's in a good mood. John hoped for a miracle and made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. He could see his mum had been crying, Harry had gone and his dad had moved into the living room.

"Everything ok?" John asked softly.

"Ah John, when did you get in?"

His mum rubbed her eyes in an attempt to hide her tears from her boy.

"I got in half an hour ago. Mum, I was wondering whether we have a net? Like, in the shed or…"

John's mum interrupted, distracted from the conversation.

"Be a good lad and empty the bin for me."

John moved over to the bin and pulled the bin bag out.

"So, do you think we have…?"

John tries asking again, he didn't want to let Sherlock down but his mum just nodded absently, muttering a distant "mmh, yeh." John took this as all the permission he needed; after he'd dealt with the bin and managed to climb over all the old garden tools in the shed, John finally managed to grab the net and walked back into the house with it. He closed the back door softly but as he turned he bumped straight into his father, knocking the man's beer onto his shirt.

"Sorry…" John mumbled with his head down. His dad had stopped and was staring down at his son.

"Clumsy little bugger. You made me spill beer on my shirt."

His dad's voice was deep and menacing. John gulped.

"Sorry dad…"

John dropped the net as his right arm was grabbed and twisted up behind his back. John yelped as the muscle in his shoulder tore and burned- it had already been damaged by his dad before.

"Too right you're sorry boy!"

John's dad was twisting his arm up his back further, causing the boy to cry out in pain.

"What are you doing? Get off him Richard!"

John's mum rushed into the room and started grabbing at the man's arms as John struggled free, just in time to see his dad turn and slap his mum right across the cheek.

"Bitch."

John's mum stood slumped against the counter with her head in her arms as his dad stood stoic, breathing heavily. The man turned to John and hit him across the back of the head, causing the boy the stumble forward.

"Fucking idiots, all of you…"

His dad left the room and slouched back down on the sofa. John clutched his arm and pinned it to his side as he stood beside his mum.

"You okay mum?"

The woman stood up straight, a bright red mark clearly visible on her cheek.

"I'm fine John. Is your arm ok?"

She spoke in hushed tones so she wouldn't alert John's dad.

"It's no worse than it was last time."

John tried rotating it but winced at the shooting pain; his mum produced a well-used sling from the cupboard and strapped it round his arm. Her face stopped directly in front of his and she whispered with a scared look in her eyes, a look which John hated.

"If anyone asks, you did this playing rugby, ok?"

John nodded and walked silently to his room. He shut the door softly and fell onto his bed as tears sprung to his eyes. How dare his father treat him like this? How dare he treat his mum like that? Why should they have to live in fear? John buried his face in his pillow and cried until the pillow was soaked, he cried until his eyes were tired and he cried until his eyes closed, and let him drift off into a peaceful, safe sleep.

The next day, John walked into registration with a frown on his face. His arm was still in a sling, his blazer still had some pond weed stuck to it and his eyes had bags under them from lack of sleep. He'd been woken up by his mum and dad, screaming and shouting downstairs. John slumped into his seat and rested his chin on his non-injured arm as his form tutor, Mrs Hudson took the register. The class was rowdy as ever; a group of girls were laughing hysterically at something in the corner and Anderson and his mates seemed to be sniggering at John. They're probably plotting my death John thought glumly. The smaller boy tuned out his surroundings and stared straight ahead, letting his mind wander. He wondered what form Sherlock was in, they were in the same year group. So far he'd only shared his Maths, PE and biology lessons with Sherlock but then again he hadn't even had some lessons at all yet. John was wondering what Sherlock might be like in a drama lesson and smiled to himself but was shook out of his trance by Mrs Hudson's voice.

"Class dismissed, John could you stay behind a second? You're not in trouble honey."

Mrs Hudson smiled and John remained seated, looking down at his desk as Anderson and his mates passed, taking turns to elbow John's head as they went by. Once the class had left, Mrs Hudson grabbed a chair and sat down beside John.

"Are you okay John? You've been looking a little down these last two days, is it just new school nerves?"

John nodded and there was an awkward silence. Mrs Hudson spoke softly.

"What happened to your arm?"

John swallowed.

"Uh, I pulled my shoulder, playing rugby."

Mrs Hudson smiled.

"You like rugby do you? You know you could try out for the rugby team in two weeks, if your arm's better by then."

John smiled weakly and nodded.

"Yeah I might do, thanks."

He got up to leave but Mrs Hudson stopped him, patting down the pond weed on the front of his blazer.

"Look at the state of you! Teachers will have you in detention for having such a mucky blazer!"

Mrs Hudson tutted.

"What are you like? Come on, the nurse will clean you up, and have a look at that arm."

With that, Mrs Hudson guided John out the door and down the hallway. He kept his head down but still couldn't avoid Anderson's smirking face as he walked past with a teacher. John went red. Anderson would have him for that later, teacher's pet he'd say. John sighed as he walked into the nurse's office, with Mrs Hudson giving him an absence note for his next lesson.

"Hello, I'm Mrs Turner."

The blonde, attractive nurse introduced herself to John.

"H… hello…"

John blushed; the nurse was only in her twenties and was wearing a very low top. John thought that being stuck with her for half an hour perhaps wouldn't be so bad after all!

John returned to Chemistry 20 minutes later and handed the note to the old teacher, who was trying in vain to keep the class quiet.

"You need to get into pairs and go to your practical work station. Put your goggles on please."

The class all moved and grabbed partners, John stood by the teacher looking around the room for a partner. He saw a mop of curly hair, skulking at the back of the room. John smiled and went over to Sherlock.

"Do you want to be my partner?"

John asked, sitting beside Sherlock. The taller boy looked over at John with a confused look.

"Um… I'm not really interested in a relationship at the moment John but I'm flattered…"

John shook his head and giggled.

"No you idiot! I mean we can go in a pair for this experiment!"

Sherlock face relaxed and he let out a small smile.

"Oh, yeah sure!"

The boys went to their work station and put on their goggles. Sherlock collected a scalpel as John stared at the experiment in front of him. They had to dissect an eyeball. It was fascinating! John and Sherlock worked together, cutting open the eye and noting down the different parts on their worksheet. Sherlock just started to get impatient with cutting it open and produced some acid from the drawer.

"It's fine John, I do experiments all the time at home."

John believed him as Sherlock plopped eyeball parts in the test tube. The boys were staring down at the dissolving mass in front of them when Sherlock spoke.

"What happened to your arm then?"

"Oh, pulled my shoulder- playing rugby."

Sherlock made a 'hmmm' noise and put another section of eyeball in the tube.

"What really happened? Whatever it is has happened a lot before; your shoulder gives you a bit of hassle doesn't it?"

John gulped. He knew he wouldn't be able to lie to Sherlock. That boy could see everything!

"It wasn't rugby… I… I'll tell you later. At lunch, we can go to that hideout of yours?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Alright, and that's a cool name for it. I've always just called it 'the pond' before, but I prefer 'the hideout'."

John smiled but then he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder which spun him around. He turned to be greeted by Anderson's ugly face, which was made even uglier by the goggles squished over his piggy eyes. Sherlock turned around next to John and they both looked up at the bully, whose focus was solely on John.

"First you're a loner, then you're hanging around with old teachers and now you've decided to pair up with the freak. You're not making very good choices in this school really are you Johnny?"

John removed his goggles and breathed deeply to calm himself.

"My name's John."

Anderson ignored him and continued speaking.

"What did you do to your arm? Did Mrs Hudson break it when she held hands with you? Did you skip along the hall together?"

Sherlock looked over at John who was beginning to go red. He decided to step in.

"Anderson, he broke his arm playing rugby. Mrs Hudson is about as strong as you are so she wouldn't be able to break anything and just because Sally is cheating on you doesn't mean you have to take it out on the new kid."

This time it was Anderson's turn to go red.

"Shut up freak. You're as bad as 'teacher's pet Johnny' here."

John clenched and un-clenched his fists to relieve the tension that was building up. He so desperately just wanted to punch Anderson square on the nose but held back when the teacher walked over.

"Have you finished your work boys?"

Anderson took a step back and pretended to write in his book. Sherlock nodded and John said "Yes Sir" as the teacher moved on to the next group. Anderson dropped his pen and stood in front of the boys again.

"You're both a pair of freaks and we don't accept freaks here."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'm not sure why they let you in this school then Anderson."

The bully seemed to snarl at Sherlock's wit.

"I'll have you for that later freak. You and your short pet are in for it."

With that the bully walked away, back to his work station ad Sherlock and John turned back to their dissolved eyeball. John smiled at Sherlock.

"That was a pretty good come-back."

Sherlock smirked.

"I don't think he got what I meant."

John giggled.

"Has he always been like that?"

Sherlock turned to John.

"Like what?"

John looked up at Sherlock.

"A bully?"

Sherlock nodded.

"He's just got some serious social anxiety issues so hides behind bravado to get over them. He's always hated me."

John frowned.

"He seems to hate me too, though I'm not sure why."

Sherlock shrugged as he picked up another eyeball, one that wasn't dissolved.

"Let's teach him a lesson then shall we? He needs one, he's stupid enough."

Sherlock turned and walked across the classroom towards Anderson's desk. John hurriedly followed him, hissing at Sherlock.

"What are you doing?"

Sherlock stopped by Anderson's desk and looked around. All of the other students were busy with their work and the bully was busy kissing Sally in the corner. Sherlock picked up Anderson's bag and opened his lunch box, placing the eyeball in the centre of Anderson's chicken salad. He replaced the box carefully and snuck back to his work station, with John following him wide eyed.

"Wh… what did you do that for!?"

Sherlock grinned as he packed away the chemistry equipment.

"He shouldn't talk to you that way. He needs a taste of his own medicine… or rather he needs the taste of an eyeball…"

John smiled and realised that Sherlock had done that for him. He had stuck up for him. No-one had stuck up for him before.

"Thanks." John said as he and Sherlock sat back down in their seats. The chemistry teacher started writing complicated things about acid and alkali balances in the eye. Sherlock turned to John.

"That's what friends are for."