Borreeeddd, With life with everything: I don't want to be Sherlock anymore.

Everything has a beginning, not everything has an end.

So I've decided that I might as well write this all down, preserving the person that I once was, as I am slowly losing the Sherlock Holmes I used to be. My mind once full of possibility and potential, now bored of everything of school, of life, of the everyday. The everyday something that once held potential and enjoyment in the many people, their lives, and thoughts that I can read in an instant. But what is the point if there is no purpose for it, all it does is create more pain, more distance.

School, it was once a good distraction, it once kept my brain occupied. But the ability to learn the whole textbook and more in less than a day, is apparently not what teachers or any of the idiots in my class, wanted. It became too easy, too boring. Giving my brain too much time, to be bored. Not just the nothing to do type of bored. But the type of bored that takes over your brain, over your life. When you begin to be bored of the everyday, of your life. Everything you've ever known.

I need something, some sort of relief, something just to stop this all consuming boredom.I need something to keep my brain occupied. Something, just something to stop this. What is the point of being able to tell someone their whole life story, what they did today, its still a bit hit and miss, I haven't perfected the art. But what is the point in being able to do that, if there is no purpose. It's pointless, it all is.

I don't have anyone, anymore. My older brother, Mycroft, the only person close to understanding me. He taught me lots. Motivated me to learn, he couldn't be better than me, that is what has kept me going for the last few years. Me and him deducing the lives of everyone. Our favourite activity, finding a spot in the busyness, and sitting, watching, observing. Learning everything we could about the people displaying their hearts, their lives, their thoughts. It was good.

But then he vanished off to university. Studying. As much as he comes back in the holidays and the odd weekend here and there. But it's not the same, half the time he is buried within a heap of textbooks and essays. The fun, the time spent together it has faded.

My parents they are great, both geniuses. But they don't understand. They are content with where they are, what they are doing. I'm not. I'm stuck. Trapped. Stuck. I'm trying to escape, yet there isn't a way out. I can't just leave. I wish I could, yet I couldn't do that to the few people who still care. I have to pretend I am okay, that I am still Sherlock Holmes. Not the broken shell of who he once was. I am fed up of pretending. Lying to everyone. There isn't any point anymore. I will shut them all out, everyone, drift through everyday. Just to stop myself from hurting them. Because I know how capable of destruction I am. I have to stop it from being unleashed.

So today is yet another day. yet another same boring day. The same. I want something more. I long to have a purpose. I long for my place, in this crazy chaotic noisy place.

So I managed to survive. Just one more day. Sliding down the school corridors. Being practically invisible, seemingly wrapped up in my own little world. While secretly observing everyone. Gathering information. Just keeping myself occupied enough, to keep myself here. I need something, or someone. Just anything that understands. I don't think it will find me. I'll look for it then.

I found it. While attempting to sleep last night. The compass. The one I had chucked on the floor. I was bored of my maths homework. I didn't care, it wasn't important. I get good grades in everything without trying. It's not likely that doing the homework will get me anything better than the 100% I've got in every test. Trying to explain that to teachers, only gets you sent to detention, and then the head teacher. I did that last time. I've learnt, there is not any point anymore, in arguing, it only creates attention. Unwanted attention.

But the compass. It was once a stupid piece of metal, some sort of thing that only maths teachers could love.

But it's something I too could also love. The rush, the purity, the perfection. The clean perfect line. The moment. Its mine no one can steal this from me.