Family Ties: A Kidlock Fanfiction

Chapter 3: The Fall

"Good morning, class!" A young, stout woman at the front of the room said, "My name is Ms. Scott, and I am your teacher and friend for the year!"

She looked to be in her mid-20s. Straight, brown hair framed her round face in an unflattering fashion. Judging by her nervous smile and shaking hands, this was her first year teaching. Clearly her approach was to address the class as if they were babies. Sherlock frowned and sank lower in his plastic chair.

"Now," Ms. Scott continued slowly. "To get to know our classroom and our classmates, we are going exploring!" She clapped and grinned like a child at Christmas. "I'm going to let you play and make new friends!"

Sherlock scoffed. This was definitely her first day. What sane adult would allow a bunch of hyperactive 7-year-olds run loose in a classroom!?

Before Sherlock could give his idiotic teacher some well-needed advice, the room erupted in activity. Little girls ran to claim the prettiest babydolls and cutest stuffed animals. Boys crashed toy trucks into towers of wooden blocks. Messy markers and paints were pulled out along with paper and glitter. 

Soon enough, only two other students were left in their seats. One, a pudgy brown-haired boy, was pulling plastic dinosaurs from his backpack. The other, a tiny blonde boy, was looking around the room anxiously. His wide blue eyes were filled with hesitation, most likely to engage with the other students. 

Suddenly, he turned and met Sherlock's eyes. With an excited smile, the boy got out of his seat. Sherlock cringed as he advanced. He didn't want to talk to him, let alone anyone. He reached for his book for protection, but it was too late. The boy stood in front of his desk, an eager smile plastered on his face.

"Hi, I'm John!" He chirped, "What's your name?" Sherlock rolled his eyes at this cheesy act of friendliness. He had to get rid of this boy as soon as possible.

"Sherlock," he forced a tight smile.

"Whoa, that's a cool name!" John said earnestly.

"Tell my mother that," Sherlock replied flippantly. "The name wasn't my idea, obviously."

John seemed taken aback by Sherlock's rudeness, but he would not give up without a fight. "Um," he bit his lip. "Do you have any pets?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "But it died a couple weeks ago during one of my experiments. I guess it was more of a test subject."

John's eyes widened, and Sherlock had to suppress a smile. This was getting fun!

John opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it and stared at Sherlock expectantly. 

"What?" Sherlock asked, confused by his suddenly mute interviewer.

John leaned in and whispered, "You're supposed to ask me a question now." 

Sherlock almost laughed at this ridiculous comment. Was this what normal conversations were like? Just useless questioning?

"I don't need to ask you anything," Sherlock said matter-of-factly. "I already know everything about you. I know that you have no real friends, so your loving mother gave you a silly set of instructions in order to make some. You are also very loyal to your older brother, even though he drags you into trouble constantly. And you miss your father, who has been away as a soldier for many months. You also love the idea of heroism and want to be a soldier, too. So as you can see, it is stupid to ask questions."

John was staring at him with eyes the size of saucers, his jaw dropped in disbelief. "H-how did you know all that?" He stammered. "I mean, you got the brother part wrong, so you don't know my family."

"Darn it, I knew I got something wrong!" Sherlock muttered.

"No, no but you got everything else right!" John reassured him, "How did you do that? That was fantastic!"

Sherlock was taken aback by this. He had never, ever been praised for deduction. In fact, it was second nature to the Holmes brothers. Mycroft could deduce better than he could, and would constantly laugh at Sherlock's mistakes when they were out in public. Of course, Mycroft would always whisper his deductions in his brother's ear, but Sherlock couldn't help finding out if he was right. His mother constantly scolded him for going up to strangers and "reading their minds". Never had it been called "fantastic".

"He's just messing with you!" A snobby voice interrupted his thoughts. The dinosaur boy had turned around in his seat and was talking to John. "He was just guessing and got some stuff right. It's just a lousy way to impress you." 

"And you are?" Sherlock asked, annoyed.

"Anderson," the boy puffed up his chest. "I think it's a much cooler name than Sherlock. That is a dopey name."

Sherlock got out of his seat and walked toward Anderson. John nervously following as if a crime were about to be committed. 

"Well," Sherlock spat. "I think you are a fat, lazy oaf that has such low self-esteem that you pick on other people for fun." Anderson's puffy cheeks flushed red and he stood up to meet Sherlock face-to-face. 

"Oh ya?" Anderson's beady eyes narrowed. "What else do you think, freak?"

Sherlock smiled confidently. "I think your dinosaurs are lame."

Anderson's face turned purple in rage, and in one quick, hard movement, he shoved Sherlock. Everything moved in slow motion as he toppled backwards. Unable to stop his falling body, he gazed at John. "Help!" Sherlock tried to say, but his head smaked against the floor before he got the chance. 

Everything went black.