There Is Nothing Wrong With Me

Automatic Alienation

Sherlock POV: It was a waste of time, surely a waste of a paycheck, and most definitely a waste of education to have a review day in class. Every day was a review day for a intellectual superior like Sherlock, however today it was coupled with in class jeopardy. It was the most public school game that had ever crossed the tile halls and similarly painted lockers of Lauriston school, and of course all teachers had the same little board they made and they all had different point values projected up on the screen...it was ever so tedious. Today's game was about the French revolution, a topic Sherlock had gone over plenty in his own leisure and even touched upon at Wisteria one time. Of course he was an invaluable member to any team who was out to win, however, much like gym class; it would seem that he was going to be the last one picked again. They all sat in their desks while three of the popular kids stood up in front of the class and picked all their friends to be on their team, not taking any notice to the class freak who probably knew more about this pathetic revolution than the teacher did. He sat in his seat in the back of the room patiently, crossing his legs and hitting his knee painfully on the attached desk to his dreadfully uncomfortable plastic chair. As the captains picked their team members the crowd got thinner and thinner, and slowly Sherlock was smirking, laughing to himself about how uncomfortable everyone was around him. They treated him as something of a disease, as if they got anywhere close to his presence they would suddenly turn into a homosexual and start...
"Sherlock." called a voice from the front of the class. Sherlock blinked, looking around him to see that there were still some nerds sitting around in their desks, waiting to be called. Surely that had been the teacher then, yelling at him for zoning out again. However when he looked up at the front of the room, seeing Molly Hooper and her pack of giggling girls all staring at him expectantly. Sherlock straightened up uncomfortably, looking around once more to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.
"Me?" he wondered in a careful voice, looking upon Molly Hooper to make sure she wasn't going crazy.
"Yes you, don't act surprised." Molly agreed in a bit of a meek voice, trailing off in embarrassment. "He's smart you know." She muttered to her team, who were all giggling some more and poking her, as if accusing her of something. Sherlock cleared his throat, getting to his feet and pulling his jacket sharply down around his shoulders before walking up to the front of the room to stand with his team, something he rarely ever did with an audience still in the crowd. He huddled towards the back of the group, pressing his back up against the blackboard and glancing to his left, where he saw a cluster of boys all shuffling uncomfortably to get as far away from him as possible. Sherlock just sighed, rolling his eyes at the idiocy of today's society. Leave it to Molly Hooper to try to include him, in turn only bringing more attention to the fact that he was the biggest outcast in the school. However the girls in his group kept looking back, smiling at him as if trying to make him feel welcome. Of course this was all just a show, they either wanted to know more about his love life or become part of his love life themselves, both options which were virtually impossible. He clenched his shaking hands, shoving them into the pocket of his jacket to try to suppress the side effects of the medication as finally the teams moved away to their corners of the room. The teacher had the projector set up with a board, displaying onto the blackboard where she had written all sorts of categories pertaining to the topic at hand. Then they had the typical jeopardy numbers lined up as they went down the column, and Sherlock could only assume that the teacher would read it aloud to the whole class. They all had little hand held chalk boards, probably to answer on, and the team with the highest points won. Sherlock slunk back in yet another uncomfortable chair, finding himself surround by giggling girls and Molly Hooper, who had somehow managed to stay calm and collective, as if she thought she had something to prove by being captain of this makeshift team. Sherlock noticed painfully that there were no boys in their group, well other than him of course, and that showed once more just how considerate Molly was. Honestly that girl should get a medal, not only did she pick Sherlock out of the crowd in an attempt to make him feel special, but she had been good enough not to force any boy to have to sit within a five seat radius of Sherlock, in turn making everyone, including Sherlock, feel comfortable and safe. She was so nice it was almost hateful. The game started off just fine, one of the groups picked the question, Sherlock answered the question, Molly scribbled it down on the chalkboard, and they got the points. It was almost too easy; they were up by six hundred points before the ten minute mark, only reminding the class how invaluable Sherlock was as a teammate.
"So, you like boys right?" one of the girls whispered to him when the teacher had taken a break from the game to try to stop an eraser battle going on between the two teams of testosterone. Sherlock blinked, looking to the girl who had addressed him and seeing a very pretty yet sneaky looking redhead, with a pointed face and an inquisitive look in her eyes. Sherlock cleared his throat awkwardly; staring down at the desk and feeling his face heat up awkwardly.
"I um...I'm on medication. I'm getting better." He muttered, trained to answer this way whenever he was asked that question directly. What else was he supposed to say that wouldn't contradict all the therapy? I mean, it was useless sure, but if he admitted to his homosexuality it would prove that it wasn't working, and in turn land him in a jail cell.
"I don't think it's wrong. In fact, I find it kind of...attractive." She admitted with a smile. Sherlock looked at her very quickly and then looked away, his face getting so hot that he felt that the room temperature had risen to at least one hundred degrees.
"I um...I don't think you quite understand the term homosexual then." He muttered with a shaking voice. Obviously this girl wasn't getting the hint; she just laughed a little bit more, as if she mistook his honesty for flirtation.
"I thought you said you were getting better? Don't you need someone to uh...straighten you out?" the girl wondered in an almost purr. Sherlock winced, and suddenly he felt a hand on his, her disgusting fingers, wrapping around his own... Suddenly a shiver went down his spine, and he jumped out of his chair so agressivley that it toppled to the ground, the chair, attached desk, everything. The crash that followed drew everyone's eyes to him, putting him in the very unwanted spotlight as his entire body gave a great writhe, his hands shaking so badly that he held them up and stared at them in amazement.
"I um...I think I need to go to the nurse." He whispered in a shaking voice, glancing for confirmation at the teacher, who just shook her head without a word. Sherlock walked swiftly out of the classroom, trying to make it look like he wasn't afraid, knowing that all eyes were still on him even as the door closed. However as soon as he was sure he was out of their sight, he broke into a run. He felt weaker than ever and yet he ran through the hallways faster than he's ever gone before, the lockers and the doors flashing by in a blur of dull colors as he raced not to the nurse's office but to the closest bathroom. He didn't need to get patronized; he didn't want to get questioned by that nurse hiding behind those thick cat eyed glasses. She barely understood physical pain, much less psychological trauma; he just needed to be alone. Sherlock rushed to the bathroom, pulling open the door and immediately throwing open every stall, making sure he was alone before he fell against the tiled wall, letting his head fall back and taking deep, drawing breaths. He still shook like a thin blade of grass in a hurricane, shivering from an unknown chill as he drew his thin jacket around himself and huddled into the corner of the bathroom. He could hear his breaths, he could feel them escaping through his lips, however he didn't get any sustenance from them. It seemed as though through every gasp of breath he was only losing air, his lungs weren't filling, he was suffocating on nothing but shock, panic. His face was getting paler by the second, black spots appearing in his vision and the bathroom spinning, the lights blinking in and out of recognition, plunging his world into temporary darkness. Sherlock griped to the walls, his fingers slipping along the tile uselessly, he could do nothing to support himself until finally his legs gave way, and he fell into a clump on the damp floor, his feet splashing through the trails of water from the leaking sink, tunneling between the blue tiled bathroom floor like canals. It was much easier to just give up, to let gravity reclaim him, to let his head fall to the wall and his body shake until it was finally satisfied. He had to tell himself that he was safe, he had to tell himself that it was all okay, nothing was happening to him, nothing was wrong. She had only been joking, she could be sent away with some simple words of denial, she would never touch him unless he permitted it. She was gone. Sherlock took a gasp of breath, his eyes flying open and his body stilling for a moment, and the view of the disgusting bathroom came back into focus. He could see everything, hear anything, the dripping of the sinks, the blinking of the lights; he could even smell the hand soap that was pooling on the edge of the sink, right below the dispenser. He was back, it was okay, he had survived. Sherlock struggled to pull himself to his feet, gripping onto the ceramic sinks for support. His knees were wobbling and his legs were numb however he managed to stay upright, leaning heavily against the sinks and staring at himself in the mirror for a moment. He was ghostly pale, there were tears streaking from his eyes yet he didn't remember crying, saliva was dropping from the corners of his mouth, his forehead matted with sticky sweat, he looked like he had just returned from the grave. Sherlock winced, running the cold water for a moment before dipping his hands in it and splashing himself, rubbing his face and forehead and bangs until finally he stood dripping before the mirror, looking as though he had just submerged himself in a pool of water. Sherlock slowly grabbed himself a paper towel, ripping it off of the roll and drying his face the best he could, feeling a little bit more cleanly but no more sane than when he had when he had first stumbled into this bathroom. He dimly remembered hearing the bell ring, however he wasn't sure of it until suddenly the door opened, and two jocks sauntered in, with their varsity jackets and their backpacks swinging off of their shoulders. They took one look at Sherlock, who was still leaning over the sink with sink water dripping down his face, and immediately stopped, their smiles vanishing off of their faces. Sherlock just looked at them shamefully and it took them not ten seconds to run, scrambling over each other in their desperate attempt to escape close quarters with the only homosexual in the school. Well, sometimes the fear factor was helpful, especially when he wanted to be alone. However it only reminded Sherlock just how alienated he was in this world, just how alone he had become.