Remember Me (Teenlock)

Chapter One

Sherlock's POV

Everyone says I'm emotionless, thoughtless, and just don't care about anything worth caring about.

False.

I do in fact have emotions, I just choose not to show them for the safety of others, and more importantly, myself. You let one emotion slip in front of these demons here and they use it against you as fast as they can.

I'm not thoughtless, if anything I have too many thoughts. I've always been told by my family that I'm highly intelligent. Someone with so much intelligence would have to have a lot of thoughts, wouldn't they? But of everything I know, there is one thing I don't. Why does everyone hate me so much? I used to think it was because I was smarter than them, but that's proven to be less and less true.

Last of all, I do in fact care about things that are worth caring about. I care about grades, science and other interesting topics, family (for the most part), and most of all, my dog Redbeard. There are, of course, other things I care about, but apparently no one in their right mind would care about anything that I do. 

I was sitting in my dorm room, number 320B, waiting for my demonic acquaintances to get back from their summer holiday. Some of them had already arrived, but those were the ones who didn't really matter or didn't completely hate me. Molly was one of them. She was a nice girl, very pretty, and happened to fancy me quite a bit. The feeling wasn't really mutual, but as I said, she was a nice girl. You could say we were friends. Another was Lestrade. He was closer to my brother than he was to me, but he still treated me as an equal and no one ever hurt me while we were together. Probably because he was the captain of the rugby team.

I wasn't allowed back home for the summer holiday. Or any holiday for that matter. For the past three years I spent most of my time in my bedroom thinking of anything that came to mind. Many times I thought of death. Would that make it better though? Would it actually help? The answer has yet to come to me, if there even is one. If I wasn't in my dorm, I was wandering the woods near the academy, or doing experiments with the chemistry teacher, considering he was there that is. He told me he was impressed with my skills and many times offered me to be his TA, but I often refused. I was in for the learning, not to teach. 

I heard a knock at my door making my thoughts flutter away. It was Mycroft, it had to be Mycroft. I rushed to the door and opened it wide to see my older brother standing before me. I had to hide my happiness to see him. I gulped down a smile and politely asked, "Yes, Mycroft?"

"Our dear mother has written you a letter," he said.

Typical. Mother didn't even have the courtesy to actually talk to me. Her voice was hidden behind a pen and paper, where I couldn't tell if she was lying or hiding something. If it was ever so important why didn't she ever call? The school had a public telephone that anyone could call from or receive calls from. I had my own mobile as well. I wouldn't dare say these things aloud though, not while Mycroft was in the room. He handed me the envelope containing the letter and gave me a small hug before tousling my hair.

"I missed you, Sherlock," he told me. Where had all this affection sprung from? I looked up at him and saw his nicely cut hair, probably just yesterday. His uniform was nicely ironed from today. Mother would've done it herself, knowing just where to crease it. Any time I did it I got something off. He was still chubby, but not as bad as usual, and judging by his happiness something exciting happened over the holiday. I thought for a moment and then said, "You look nice."

Lame, I thought to myself. What is that even supposed to mean? But at that moment Mycroft responded, "As do you, Brother."

I nodded and looked up. "Who's the girl?" I asked. It had to have been a girl making him so much happier.