Another day passed after the incident, with Sherlock sticking to his words refusing to even look in John's direction during maths which was the last block of the day. So John just assumed that he was tired.

This morning, as expected, John was the first one in the maths classroom again. So, he settled down in his spot and started working on his character sketch again.

Weaving and constructing characters and worlds were some of his favourite things to do. It brought himself into a completely new world created all by himself and he liked the feeling of that.

"I get the feeling that I'm always interrupting you."

John looked up and there Sherlock was, as pale and mysterious as ever taking a seat beside him and putting his backpack down beside himself.

"Well, I mean we've only known each other for two days. What ever happened to the "never speak to each other again" thing?" John laughed as he closed his note book and stuffed it back into his bag.

"Yes, um well, I just wanted to say thank you. For the day before yesterday you know." Sherlock muttered as he pulled out three slightly crumpled yellow roses from his bag which was tied together by a blue ribbon.

This boy just loves to surprise. John stared at the rose and to Sherlock for ten seconds straight before stuttering out a response.

"Sherlock... um I...I'm really flattered by your in...interest. But I'm not gay so..."

"No, god Watson how does your little brain even function?? Yellow rose means joy and friendship, it's a token of gratitude. My parents are florists; our flower shop is just down the street." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You were wandering how I knew about you even though having never met you before. I could tell that you had an older sibling, probably a brother by your left sleeve, your family's economic welfare by your socks and your family's dissolution by your phone."

"So what about those things, I don't think I wrote that I had an older brother on my sleeve." John propped his head up with one hand looking at Sherlock with curiosity.

Sherlock took in a deep breath. "Your left sleeve was worn but you are right handed, so how could this be? A hand me down from your older sibling of course. Not a cousin because if you had a close extended family then your family wouldn't be so economically unwell right now. Your socks are clearly handmade even though your mother's skill can compare with store bought ones, I could still tell the difference. Then there was your father, despite your efforts to cover the engraving of "Happy Birthday – Dad" with your mother's black nail polish on the back of your phone, it's still able to be seen if you learn to observe. If you didn't want this painful reminder of your father you could've bought a new phone but because of your family's financial situation that is not an option. But what if your father just passed away? Again, if he passed away you'll probably leave the engravings, it's what people do, sentiment. Am I wrong?"

Sherlock finished before looking away slightly as if ashamed of what he had just done.

"Yes... Yes you're absolutely right." John stared at him in disbelief. "That... was amazing."

Sherlock's head snapped back. "You really think so?" a faint blush creeped up his pale cheeks.

"Of course! It feels like I have Einstein sitting right beside me." John smiled shaking his head still not being able to fully grasp of just how brilliant his desk partner was.

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off."

Their eyes met and as if on cue as the corners of their mouths lifted in unison making a big goofy grin on both of their faces which turned into a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

John didn't even know why he was laughing, maybe because uncontrollable euphoria that had erupted from his chest knowing that he had just made some sort of a new friend within two days in a new school.

Or maybe it was the pure joy that had shattered the cold mask that his desk partner never seemed to have taken off.

Students started coming in in gradual clumps, laughing and talking with their friends before the bell rung which announced the teacher's "grand entrance" silencing everyone symbolizing the initiation their daily dosage of maths hell.

Usually, if John payed attention to the maths teacher's (He didn't bother with remembering his name) daily ritual of boring everyone, he could still manage with maths. But today, his mind seemed to be on strike down right refusing to cooperate and listen. He could hear the words but his brain was unable to make much sense of it and by the time the text book assignment was assigned, John could do absolutely nothing but stare at the alien symbols typed neatly over the pages of his maths textbook.

John took a slight peek at Sherlock who was tearing through this like it was primary school maths before setting his pencil down and sighing contently at his own ability to get this tediously boring assignment over with so quickly.

"Hey Sherlock." John whispered fearing that the teacher would hear and turn his vulture like face towards them.

"Hm?"

"Can you help me with this? I wasn't listening." John asked slightly embarrassed by how Sherlock could whipped through the questions while he didn't even really get the question.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow opening his mouth to say something before slowly closing his mouth and muttering something under his breath.

"Right, yeah, it's not that hard if you could think properly." Sherlock started with a nonchalant tone before noticing the slightly offended look on John's face.

"Oh don't be like that I've never met anyone besides my brother who could think properly." Sherlock "reassured" as he began to turn his attention to the John's textbook finding the first question.

"Speaking of your brother, your deduction wasn't actually completely accurate." John pointed out causing Sherlock to look to him immediately.

"Oh? Enlighten me then." Sherlock raised his eyebrows a bit before his attention was turned back to the textbook again trying to figure out how to teach John how to do this.

"That sweater was a pass me down from my older sister, Harriet. Apparently, some idiot put the man's sweater in the girl's clothing section. It was a clearance sale that day so no refund." John tried to hide the slight pleasure of seeing mister "know-it-all's" blink a few times in realization.

"a sister... A Sister!" Sherlock exclaimed burying his face into one of his hands.

The entire class's eyes locked on Sherlock and John with the latter trying to decide whether to try to laugh it off or beat Sherlock's sorry arse in front of the entire class.

"Mr. Watson, Mr. Holmes. Outside please."

The teacher hissed with his vulture like glare fixed on the two of them.

"There's always something, I really should've known. Whose mother has black nail polish??" Sherlock was still muttering to himself as John dragged him out of the class blushing in pure embarrassment. Great, there goes his streak of never having to be asked outside by the teacher.

"Great, thanks Sherlock, there goes my chance of getting my maths done in class." John threw his arms up in the air. Looking up at Sherlock with an exasperated look.

"I'm sure life would've been a lot easier if you just paid attention like everyone else in this class." Sherlock rolled his eyes flipping his coat collar up and hunching his shoulders so that only his curls stuck out of the coat.

"And this is the part where you apologize." John glared at the curls sticking out of the coat clenching his fists. Was Sherlock always this unreasonable? Did he actually have no friends? By the looks of it, the answer to both questions would be a definite yes.

"Gentlemen, I hope you recognize the disturbance you've brought to this class." The spectacled vulture loomed over them closing the door gently behind him. "I expect you both to be here at lunch for the rest of the week, I would appreciate some help with marking."

With that the teacher opened the door letting them both in the class.

John shrugged slightly thinking that he didn't have anything better to do during lunch before he remembered that he had promised to play football with Greg and his group of friends today.

John sighed making a mental note to tell them that he wouldn't be able to play football until next week. This was all because of the idiot scowling beside him.

The bell rang and John started packing his bags for History. Sherlock merely stayed there silent with a certain anger clouding his austere greyish blue eyes.

John couldn't help himself, but the words flew out all the same. "You look like someone murdered your mother, even though you probably have nothing better to do..."

"...Freak!"

John's attention was caught by the same pack of wolves that had shoved the boy beside him into the washroom the day before.

"Not so prone to biting today are we? I bet your boyfriend here would love to see you "deduce" some more. Come on now, did Sally and Scott here go shagging again last night?" The alpha of the pack snickered, standing out from his pack. He was at least half a head taller than Sherlock with a large frame and slicked hair looking like he just stepped out of a model magazine.

John's face flushed with anger as Sherlock did nothing except for looking straight ahead seemingly not able to see, or feel anything around him.

"I see you've did your hair again before you dropped by for this lovely little visit, there's really no need for you to do that for me Moran. If you wanted to pay a visit, there's no need for makeup." Sherlock muttered slowly still not looking at anyone as he took a book out of his desk and started reading.

"I like to keep up my appearances, unlike someone here. It is courtesy to the public's eye." Moran snickered eyeing John's worn out sleeves and socks.

"At least I'm not a desperate attention hogger, you lot leave Sherlock alone." John snapped as he dropped his head not wanting to see him blush even harder taking his stuff and shoving past them storming out the classroom.

Sherlock seemed more than capable to fend for himself, and John wasn't going to be the plaything of their little games. He thought that maybe Sherlock would at least try to say something for him. But he was probably just way too over his own head.

John couldn't feel anything but drained. He had tried to scrape the last bit of what he has left within himself to give to Sherlock, his lonely, odd yet fascinating desk partner. And when he realized that he had nothing left to give and nothing to return for it, his heart felt nothing but a dull ache, a fatigue that seemed to make his heart beat slower and heavier.

English began and ended with Mr. Roylott scowling at the whole class like they all owed him a million pounds each. Which was basically what he did to most living creatures on this planet too so no one felt personally offended. Despite his innermost desire to boil all his students alive, (John had noticed a copy of Hannibal which had been on Mr. Roylott's desk for way too long to not be suspicious) his English skills were truly impeccable.

Lunch had left john puzzled with the Maths teacher no where in sight. But John decided that he would still serve his sentence in case the vulture swooped in on him at any time.

History rolled along with Ms. Smith giving a lecture on the Industrious Revolution. But John couldn't listen for even a minute, it felt as if the smoke and fog of the Industrious Revolution had crept into his mind and hid everything from him.

John couldn't help but play with the cuff of his sleeves, his uniform should arrive soon. Then he'd look like everyone else, he would be able to hide within the crowd and appear "normal".

"You've just got to get yourself out there. I'm sure you'll make lots of friends in Sherrinford." John could still hear his mother's words in his mind playing repeatedly in his head like a broken cassette tape.

But he felt so...scared. Sure, people don't bite, but they can do things so much worse than biting...

"Mr. Watson? Can you give an example of how the industrious revolution changed people's lives?"

John's head snapped up seeing an unimpressed Ms. Smith and all twenty-three pairs of eyes clamped unto him.

"Uh... The industrialization of manufacturing products caused family owned small businesses to decrease significantly." John answered uneasily hoping that the big words could throw Ms. Smith off thinking that he was listening in class.

"Thank you Mr. Watson."

John sighed in relief inwardly.

"But that wasn't an example that we have talked about. Please pay better attention in class next time"

The class seemed ready to burst with laughter with only their basic human decency keeping them in check.

"I'm sorry Ms. Violet, this won't happen again." John muttered looking down. This was one of the times that he wished that the earth would just suddenly come alive and swallow him whole.

The class's attention eventually turned away from him and the class carried on without any more interruption.

The bell rang signifying the end of History liberating the students into another prison sentence of Science.

John walked out trying to remember his room number because being the buffoon that he was, the idea of grabbing the paper with his room numbers on it completely slipped his mind and so he is left stranded only able to rely on his unreliable memory.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he could see the maths professor coming towards his way with as big of a stride as he could manage with his short legs.

John continued on but walking slightly faster now, maybe the maths professor was just passing by, maybe he fancied a cup of afternoon tea from the staff room...

"Watson!"

Crap

"Yes, professor?" John turned around trying as much as he could to slather a smile across his own face so that detention wouldn't be both lunch and one hour afterschool.

"You are friends with Sherlock, right?"

"I can only say I know him."

"Yes, yes but does he talk with you?"

"Yes, we do talk, may I ask what this is about professor?"

The vulture sighed seemingly annoyed by the fact that he was the one that had to deliver the news.

"As I was told by a student, he got himself in quite a nasty fight right after you left the classroom. The principle would like a word with you all after school." With that he turned around and left as quickly as came.

John stood there processing the words in his head for a minute before changing the direction of his destination.

"That blithering idiot."

John muttered shaking his head as a foolish grin crept up his face and the nurse's office came into view.