The Boy in the Treehouse

Chapter 2 - My Treehouse

Sherlock Holmes is not your every day guy. He's different and of course because of this society takes its toll on him. He is used to names like "weirdo" and worst of all "freak". If only society allowed him to punch all those people in the face.
He had no friends beside his brother Mycroft, who was growing more and more distant by the day, and no places of solitude. Except for one.
The treehouse. His treehouse.
All his life Sherlock had spent it hiding away from reality and society in that little building in a tree and all his life he could trust to find comfort in that place.
That's why it was almost unbearable when his family changed houses for the first time. Deciding on needing a bigger house they moved into an expensive, mansion type hell hole (as Sherlock would call it) a few blocks down from his old house. He hated the place, and without his only space of solitude taken from him, he would surely break.
School became worse than usual, and he had no place to run and hide from the constant bullying and torment that he now faced. Not even his own room provided any comfort, it was cold and dead.
Sherlock struggled at containing his anger and would end up in lots of fights and constant detention. His parents were disappointed deeply in him and would ignore him and push him away. Mycroft was never there.
Deciding it was time for a change, Mr and Mrs Holmes built a new treehouse in the backyard, a newer and "safer" one they would say to Sherlock. But still Sherlock refused to go in there and the only time he did he burnt the whole thing down including the tree in a failed experiment, so there was no point of building a new one.
Life for Sherlock was pretty damn miserable.

Present day

Sherlock was walking home late from school one afternoon. He looked up at the greying sky and sighed as he knew a storm was coming shortly. His face was bruised with a black eye, torn shirt and an empty backpack.
He had had another terrible day. Sherlock had gotten rather pissed off with the main bully, Henry, always calling him a "freak". He shuddered a bit at the word. So regretfully he had told Henry and his friends, Henry's whole life story which was a bit of a "touchy" subject.
'Stupid Sherlock. Stupid-'
"Freak!" A mocking voice yelled from behind him cutting off his thoughts.
'Oh for the love of-' Sherlock cursed irritably. Henry and his gang were walking up to him, and walking fast.
'Shit-' Sherlock thought. He didn't have the energy to fight but he sure had the energy to run.
Without a second look back he bolted away from the gang.
"Oi! Get back here Freak!" They yelled chasing after him. Sherlock was so scared he accidentally ran right past his house.
"Where ya going Holmes?" They chanted again.
'Detour' Sherlock thought. Just as he reached the end of the block, the gang still behind him the storm began the hit full force.
Thunder clapped and lightning struck hard, as the rain began to put down on him. He turned to see that the bullies had given up.
He smiled triumphantly.
"Fat arses!" He laughed, he laughter seized when he realised where he was.
He was outside his old house around the backyard. He saw the treehouse and immediately memories flooded in and suddenly he wasn't scared anymore. He was home.
He jumped over the fence and deduced the place for a sign of any people.
Family hasn't arrived yet. Place is quiet and lawn is slightly too long. Shouldn't be long until they arrive.
He deduced.
'Have time for a quick visit-' he thought before the thunder boomed again. 'Or maybe until the storms gone'. He smiled and began to climb the tree. He walked over to his little bench/bed thing in the corner and sat down across it. He pulled a small blue blanket out of his school bag and wrapped it around himself, before falling asleep in the warmth.