"I could not fathom why in the bloody hell's name are you doing this, Mycroft. You hate walking! Hell, you bloody hate outdoors!"

"Oh shut up and hand me that strings over, will you? My head hurts listening to you, James."

"Why, how rude!"

----

Holmes residence.

How could he not notice it?

John scolded himself over his neglicience. The familiarity he felt when he heard Sherlock's name was right afterall. He saw the name countless times as he passed the newspaper stand, of the Holmes family. John never really paid attention to it.

Untill now.

And he felt utterly stupid.

"Well?" Sherlock spoke up, raising an eyebrow.

"Are there any objections?"
John could've sworn he saw Sherlock smiling with pleasure.

The Headmaster stuttered. Rambling and spouting off things John could barely comprehend.

"Would-would like to visit the office then, young master? Perhaps some tea before you leave?" The Headmaster asked at one point, finally managing to utter few words for his own sake.

John saw Sherlock rolled his eyes and groaned. He then waved his hand.

"No thank you. I think I have enough seeing you lot-" Sherlock paused. Abruptly. His eyes locked to the window outside.

John, confused, also looked towards Sherlock's view. To see nothing. Nothing but green grass of the school's lawn that was neatly trimmed every sunday. And a large apple tree by the school's gate.

Yet nothing seemed off put. Atleast in John's oppinion.

"...Perhaps I shall take that offer." Sherlock slowly mumbled, his eyes squinting, as if calculating whatever he was looking at.

The Headmaster quickly nodded.
"Right. This way please." He quickly steered Sherlock down the corridors, as Channing stood by John. A small lecherous smile cracking on his face.

It was when Sherlock called out,

"John, Lestrade. What were you two doing? Come along."
John blinked. His eyes widened as he shared a look with Greg, both gaping as were the Headmaster and Channing themselves.

"B-but young master, are you sure you want them to come along? They are Commone-" The Headmaster stopped when he saw the look on Sherlock's face. A shadow casted over the brunette's face, eyes wide with that scrutinizing judging look.

"Did I bloody stutter?"
It was when John noticed one thing more of Sherlock.

He was tall.

Quite tall. With lanky build, as if made from bones. And it was emphasized clearly as Sherlock sized upon the Headmaster, pot-bellied and around average height.

"N-no. No, of course. Yes." The Headmaster babbled, face beet red from what presumably anger and embarrasment.

Because, if John and Greg came along, it means he would have to serve them too. A Noble serving Commoners. John could imagine how infuriating it was for the Headmaster. He wondered whether Sherlock did it on the purpose of courtesy or because they were now friends.

But seeing the pleased look on Sherlock's face,-along with a subtle sly smile-, John knew, he did it just to piss the Headmaster off.

Sherlock even winked at him as John sent the taller boy a disapproving glare, as they walked towards the Headmaster's office across the building.

What a child.

----

John was sure he had gone mad.

For one moment, he was walking towards his own room. Greg by his side, as always. It was late, and Sherlock already left ten minutes ago, he was purposefully dragging his time in the Headmaster's office just to fool around untill John decided to intervene.

The clock had struck seven when John unlocked the door to his room. And he nearly dropped off his keys when he caught the sight of a young boy, perching ontop of his desk, with an apple in one hand.

He could barely process what happened when an apple was chucked to his head, blur of white, Greg yelling, and then a sharp pain before black out.

And really, he was so sure he had gone mad when he woke up in an old warehouse, hands tied to a chair,-Greg not too far beside him in the same position-, while facing a table with another boy sitting behind it. His hands was folded neatly infront of his chest.

The strangest thing that stuck out was that the biy was wearing a suit. A perfectly tailored burgundy suit with golden buttons, with a matching top-hat. A black umbrella was leaning against the table, and John couldn't help but stare.

It was late. Why on earth would anyone carry an umbrella? Lest it was raining, but it wasn't.

"Who are you?! Why did you kidnap us?!" Greg yelled from his side, tugging against his restraints.

The boy quirked an eyebrow, his hands slipping into his pockets as he stood up, walking just few feet away from Greg.

"I suggest you stop moving, Lestrade. You maybe strong, but not strong enough to break through iron woven ropes."

Immediately, Greg stopped. John stared at the ropes restraining his arms, trying to see it clearly despite the very dim lighting.

'These are made from iron?' He thought, starstrucked.

"What do you want from us? Who are you?" Greg said again, although his voice lacked bite. It seemed he calmed down a bit.

"I should've asked the same thing." The boy said, his footsteps echoed that it made John realized how close he was now to Greg. Almost face to face, as the boy lowered his head to meet Greg's level. Both of them glaring.

"What do you want with my brother?"

John blinked. Once. Twice.

"B-brother?" Greg echoed, almost stupidly as another voice piped in,

"You heard the man!"

He thought he saw the boy groaning in exhasperation when they all turned towards the new voice. Sat on the table, again, was the same boy John saw in his room. Clad in worker's shirt and rolled up dresspants, and long coal black hair tied into a low tail.

"I would really appreciate if you could just stop doing that, James."

"Well. News flash, you can't keep me forever." The boy shrugged, sauntering over towards John with a strange smile on his face.

"So this is the guy Sher's been pining on, huh? Not bad." He said, poking at John's mess of blond hair before quickly pulling his hand hand back, as John was clamping his teeth to where his finger once was.

"Whoah! A bit prickly! Not bad at all. Like a porcupine!"

John glared at him,

"I am not a porcupine."

"Okay then, hedgehog."

"That's the same!"

"You know, I would really appreciate if you could just drop by and say hello to my partners here, instead of kidnapping them in broad daylight."

John's head snapped up, eyes quickly meeting those belonged to Sherlock. The taller boy was hidden in the shadows right above them, perching like a falcon ontop of a wooden mast.

"Why Sherlock, have you forgotten it's not day time anymore? It won't be counted as daylight." The long haired boy tutted, smiling innocently despite the fact Sherlock was glaring at him.

"You know what I mean."

"Get down from there, Sherlock. We'll settle this down on earth." The boy in suit spoke up, rather dryly as Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him.

"Gladly."

John thought he would climb off the mast. Or maybe a rope or a ladder hidden somewhere from his sight. But no, Sherlock literally leapt off the wooden mast. John wasn't able to stop himself from yelling his name as Sherlock twisted himself in the air, like an acrobat, before taking hold of a metal railing attached on the wall. He then sommersaulted off and landed with a roll on the ground.

He didn't even look out of breath as he dusted himself of casually, as if nothing happened as the long haired boy chirped,

"Aw, he called for your name. How cute, Sherlock."

John tried to avoid the strange gaze Sherlock gave him.

It was quickly broken however, by Greg's utterly baffled, mad, and confused voice,

"What the bloody hell is going on?"

Aaaaaaaaaaa- i'm sorry it took long! School's been taking a lot out of me, and i caught flu. So welp. Damn.

I really do hope this is a great chapter. I'm writing this as my sick and sleep deprived mode, so I'm not sure if it's up to my usual writing standards or not.

Also, I got some changes. Sherlock will be an FTM trans, Moriarty is a Gender-fluid, and Mycroft will be.. something. Okay it's hard to explain. I promise you'll find out later.

Thank you for reading! Enjoy!