WARNINGS: bullying, swearing, mentioning of drugs
Sherlock's POV
I was running through the hallways of the entire school after classes had ended, calculating the way to either 221B, the library or the lavatory.
My pursuers still behind me, yelling and laughing. The insults found their way to my ear: most of them being "freak", but also some of them screaming "faggot" and other terrible words.
I dashed down the stairs, deciding that the lavatory would be the best choice for a hiding place. I couldn't shake them off just yet, but the chemistry room had a second door that was never locked, although everyone thought it was - this was going to save me nearly a minute.
So I made my way through the empty corridor of the third floor, running into the chemistry room, where the teacher was arranging little bottles of chemicals that I knew too well. She shot me a confused look but remained silent until I rushed out to the other door, now being on another corridor. I ran the last few metres to the boys' lavatory.
When I entered I could already hear my pursuers coming around the corner. They must have seen me, but luckily, I was fast enough to lock myself in a toilet cabin.
"Oi, freak!" one of them shouted kicking my cabin door.
"I would suggest you leave. You know that I won't come out and you can't come in. Also, not everyone should know that you changed beds with Veronica last night," I said in one breath.
"The fuck?"
"Exactly. You slept with her roommate."
Some of my bullies even snickered, but their leader just kicked the door again and announced: "We'll just leave the freak alone. But you won't get away next time, fag!"
I let myself drop on the toilet seat. Inhaling, exhaling. I heard the lavatory door slam shut. They were gone.
I stood up, unlocked the door and washed my hands (just in case) before finally returning to my beloved dorm.
I opened the door to room 221 in the B section of the school. "Sherlock," my boyfriend said as I fell on my bed.
I rested there a couple of seconds then standing up quickly again. I was going to get mad with all those bloody idiots telling me what to do, what not to do and chasing after me, because I was not like them.
I started going through my drawer and my bedside table.
I was going to die of boredom, scince every day was the same, everything dull and blurry.
I looked under the bed and under all the papers on my desk.
I hated it. Every minute of my wasted time at this bloody school with its fucking bullies, who picked themselves a "freak".
"John, where are they?"
"What are you talking about, Sherlock?"
He raised his head and looked at me, then he made a concerned face.
Oh no. "Are you all right?"
"John, where are the cigarettes?"
"I took them."
"No, really? I didn't notice!" *note the sarcasm*
"Sherlock ..."
"No, it's alright, I'm alright, John," I said closing my eyes and collapsing on the bed again. I turned to the wall. "Perfectly fine."
I pulled my knees to my chest and tried to find something that distracted me from my thoughts. I couldn't play the violin. The teachers took it away because I was playing at 3 am in the morning and apparantly it disturbed people's sleep.
So I just looked at the wallpaper, trying to memorize every fibre. It didn't help and my mind wandered back to the bullies again.
Suddenly, I felt John sitting down at the edge of my bed. I sighed and sat up as well.
"Don't ever listen to them." He put an arm around my back and pulled me close.
"I don't." I rested my head on his shoulder and tried to relax a bit.
"Okay. That's good, because it's not true what they say. You are brilliant Sherlock, you know that?"
I nodded slowly. "... thanks."
