There Is Nothing Wrong With Me

It's Nice To Have Friends

            Sherlock POV: Sherlock was quite sure he hadn't seen Dr. Thompson smile before. He had known that mournful woman for almost two years and yet he couldn't remember a single time when her face showed even the slightest hint of amusement. Obviously that was his fault, since he was a very disruptive and uncooperative patient; however it was rather odd to see her now, smiling at him. At first he didn't know what he had done wrong, all he did was come in and report that he had gone out with Molly on Friday night, and that doctor's face just lit up as if someone had flipped a switch.
"A second date then, Sherlock that's wonderful!" Dr. Thompson exclaimed, looking about ready to get up from her chair and give him a hug. Sherlock didn't know why, but her happiness almost made him want to tell her the truth, he found her smile rather annoying and it would only be too easy to wipe it off of her face for good.
"I mean, it wasn't so much of a date, more of a kind of walk and talk." Sherlock muttered nervously.
"But you were with her, were you not? Alone?" Dr. Thompson wondered. Sherlock wanted to tell her so badly, but there was a sort of chant playing in his head, reminding him what was at stake if the truth got out. That chant sounded something like lobotomy, lobotomy, lobotomy. And so he just forced a smile, shrugging innocently as his answer.
"Ya I mean, I'm trying it out alright? Molly Hooper isn't the worst companion." He admitted. And she wasn't, she really was a nice girl but if he had to be romantically attracted to her he may just see a recap of his lunch spilled out on the floor in front of him.
"Well this is good, it's progress Sherlock, you're progressively learning that women are nothing to be afraid of." Dr. Thompson assured. Sherlock sighed heavily, almost seething after hearing something so ridiculous as that. He wasn't scared of women, was that what she thought? That he only loved men because women intimidated him? What were they going to do, laugh? No he wasn't scared of them he was disgusted by them, by their long hair and their high pitched laugh and their makeup smeared on with a paint brush. Surely he respected women and wished all the best for them; however he couldn't bring himself to love one of them, not when there was a much more attractive breed of human, however unobtainable they proved to be.
"I'm not afraid of women." Sherlock debated, all while trying to be as innocent and compliant as he could.
"Well no, it's not that you see a woman and scream it's just...maybe you feel intimidated by them. Pressured, so to speak, to live up to their expectations all while worrying that you're not able to. Men are much easier to impress, and not as judgmental about another person's capabilities and character traits." Dr. Thompson insisted almost determinedly, as though she were making up facts as she went but sticking to them all the same. It took every ounce of Sherlock's self-control and more not to lash out and scream everything he's ever felt and everyone he's ever loved and call her the most insulting of names however he knew that by reacting violently he would be signing his own mental institution papers. No, he had to stay calm, collective, and borderline sane. Smile, that was all it took. Just smile.
"Well I suppose you're the doctor." Sherlock mumbled rather irritably, and yet he repositioned himself on his little chair and waited for her to continue.
"So what happened at your date with Molly? What did you two talk about?" Dr. Thompson wondered. Sherlock thought for a moment, trying to think of a conversation that would be only too innocent. Best leave the entire rugby game out of the story, since he wasn't supposed to be anywhere near Wisteria or its inmates...students.
"I mean nothing very important, just small talk you know?" Sherlock shrugged.
"Did you have any physical contact?" Dr. Thompson wondered, and Sherlock just stared at her in momentary disgust. However he snapped his face back on, the 'I'm lovesick but too shy to admit it' face and tried to continue his story.
"No I mean, we might've brushed shoulders?" Sherlock muttered, thinking back to the date, the real one that is, with John. How beautiful he had been that night, how gentle and how caring. There had been more than a little bit of physical contact and yet it had been magical, innocent even. They were just young, young and in love and having no earthly idea of how to express their love. It wasn't too hard to keep his smile on after thinking of John; his cheeks might have even gained some color, who knows? Either way it was enough to please Dr. Thompson, because her rare smile returned momentarily.
"Sherlock you're progressing wonderfully, I'm so proud of you." She praised confidently, and Sherlock just smiled back, forcing himself to display some sort of happiness.
"I'm going to need another syringe, while we're wrapping up." Sherlock said quickly, looking down at the faint cuts that were still visible on his hand from where he had cut it up. Dr. Thompson looked rather confused, setting her notebook to the table beside her.
"What happened to your old one?" she wondered curiously. Sherlock just shrugged, obviously the truth wouldn't do, so what?
"Oh I um, I dropped it. I didn't think it would shatter to be honest, but it was on the tile in the bathroom and it made quite a mess." Sherlock admitted with a shrug.
"And what have you been using to take your medicine since?" Dr. Thompson asked, her voice laden with suspicion, as if Sherlock had intentionally broke the syringe to avoid taking his poison.
"Oh well I um...I haven't really." He muttered. "But I haven't seemed to need it, right? I mean I'm interacting fine!" Sherlock added before Dr. Thompson could open her mouth to speak.
"Sherlock you need that medication, you should've come to me earlier if you were unable to take it." Dr. Thompson insisted, choosing to ignore Sherlock's justification as she got to her feet and went to the filing cabinet in the back of the room. From that she pulled out a fresh syringe, complete with the needle and all, wrapped securely in a bag to avoid contamination.
"Here you are, I can only assume then that you don't need a refill?" Dr. Thompson guessed rather irritably. Sherlock took the syringe with mock thanks, setting it on his lap and feeling the painful opportunity that needle provided.
"No I think I'll be alright, I didn't bring the case at all." Sherlock assured, getting to his feet since Dr. Thompson never sat back down. She didn't seem nearly as happy with him as she had when they started, however Sherlock liked it better this way. A little disappointment went a long way, and since it was her natural state in his presence he preferred her silently angry expression rather than her smile.
"Well Sherlock, I'm still proud of you for going out of your comfort zone and finding someone you click with. Try to get a little bit more intimate, kiss her goodnight, just as an experiment." Dr. Thompson recommended. Sherlock couldn't help but shutter in disgust at the thought of kissing Molly, but the memory of John's kiss goodnight was enough to get his cheeks glowing red.
"That's um...well I guess I'll try." Sherlock admitted in a quiet voice. Dr. Thompson smiled at him proudly, as if she was so happy to see her freak science experiment starting to show some positive results.
"I'll see you next week Sherlock, and I'm so excited to hear how it turns out." She said finally, patting Sherlock on the shoulder as if it was some sort of encouraging gesture. Sherlock, however, couldn't help but flinch, ducking away from her touch before smiling hastily, grabbing his syringe, and heading out the door. Thankfully he saw his mother's car pulled up along the curb, but why she wasn't in the parking lot proved to be a mystery. Sherlock slowly made his way up to the car, hearing that the engine was still running, and was just about to suspect the worst when he saw that there were two girls standing next to the window, seeming to be in polite conversation with his mother while she waited. Sherlock almost had a heart attack before he realized, thankfully, that it was just Molly and Sarah, both of who were responsible enough to keep his secrets and both of who knew how much of a pest Mrs. Holmes could be. As long as she wasn't showing them baby pictures or they weren't telling her about Friday night he should be fine.
"Oh well there he is right now!" Molly exclaimed, looking up from the window to see Sherlock trudging down the sidewalk, smiling rather annoyingly at his mother through the windshield.
"What on earth is going on here?" Sherlock wondered, standing next to Sarah while glaring at his mother through the open window.
"Well I was coming to pick you up and saw Molly, so I pulled over to say hello." Mrs. Holmes defended, looking almost insulted that her son would confront her this way in public.
"How long has she kept you hostage?" Sherlock wondered to the girls, who just shrugged politely.
"Oh you know, not long." Sarah assured, but as Mrs. Holmes was distracted with her purse Sarah whispered "Ten minutes" and Sherlock just groaned in embarrassment.
"I'm so sorry." He added in something of a whisper.
"Here Sherlock, the girls were just on their way to get lunch, why don't you join them?" Mrs. Holmes suggested, handing Sherlock a twenty through the car window. There was nothing like motherly invites, and it was even worse when she invited him to a group of girls who probably had no intention of letting him hang around.
"Oh no mother, no I'm sure you had some lovely lunch planned I wouldn't want to..."
"That would be great! Wouldn't it Sarah?" Molly interrupted excitedly, and both girls nodded vigorously. Sherlock just sighed; reluctantly taking the money from his mother's outstretched hand and forcing something of a smile.
"Thanks." He muttered. Mrs. Holmes just beamed at him, making sure to smile at the girls as well as if to thank them for keeping her son busy.
"Now you kids have fun, you be back whenever you want." Mrs. Holmes assured, smiling once more as they all exchanged goodbyes.
"Oh mom, here." Sherlock said quickly, just realizing that the freshly wrapped syringe was still clenched irritably in his fist. He handed it to her through the window, and she immediately threw it under the passenger seat, as if she wanted to make sure the girls didn't realize what it was.
"Thanks Sherlock, now go enjoy yourself, it's such a beautiful day!" she exclaimed happily, and with that she rolled up the window and started off down the road, leaving the kids standing rather awkwardly along the sidewalk alone.
"I'm so sorry about her; honestly I can just go grab a sandwich if you don't want me hanging around." Sherlock said quickly, and the girls just broke out into laughter, as if he had said something funny.
"Well of course we want you here, you're one of the girls are you not? Besides, we can use this time to plan our next triple date!" Sarah said excitedly.
"Your mother is a wonder, she's so sweet!" Molly added, and Sherlock just rolled his eyes.
"She's so pushy." Sherlock added in a little mutter, however the girls pretended like he didn't hear him. Molly just grabbed his arm and started pulling him down the sidewalk, as if trying to ensure that he followed them as they started to walk.
"She said you were at the doctor's, are you alright?" Molly wondered, obviously trying to make polite conversation while unaware that she was going into dangerous territory. Sherlock, however, just shrugged.
"No it was um, therapist." He admitted carelessly. Molly obviously wasn't expecting that, but she still tried to keep her happy intrigued face on.
"Oh okay." she muttered rather guiltily. Sherlock nodded, putting his hands in his pockets and shivering despite the warm sun.
"We were actually talking about you. Since you're my official fake girlfriend and all. She's very happy that I'm uh...moving on? I guess?" Sherlock admitted quickly, regretting his words as soon as they left his lips. Molly just laughed, however, and nodded along in agreement.
"Yes, your mother seemed to worship me as well." Molly admitted.
"Thank you, by the way, for helping me like this. Surely it must be degrading to have to tell people you're going out with a freak like me, but I really appreciate it." Sherlock added, feeling the need to get that out of the way while it hung in the air around them.
"Oh stop that Sherlock, you know I'm happy to help! I'm like cupid, I'm like a matchmaker. Love will prevail Sherlock; I'm simply doing my part to make sure it does." Molly assured, and Sarah laughed along with her. Sherlock smiled rather reluctantly, but continued on with the group feeling a bit more wanted than when he had first arrived. It was almost nice to have friends. They walked along together, small talking for a while and laughing together like a gaggle of annoying girls. Except they weren't all girls, Sherlock was there as well, but at times he thought his laugh got more high pitched than the rest. As they walked they talked about school, or what they did over the weekend, or other useless things like that. But the conversation was almost refreshing; it was nice to talk to someone without actually caring about what you say. Sherlock was able to talk about all sorts of things, music, homework, classmates; he was even allowed to share his suspicions of a relationship between the math teacher and the assistant principal. It was pointless talk of course, but just the fact that he could talk to someone without either wanting to cry or wanting to die, well it was a nice change of pace. And it would seem that girls were the best listeners and conversationalists, they laughed at any attempt of a joke, they talked on and on about the tiniest little details, and they all seemed to agree with everything he said. It was almost as if his brain didn't function all that abnormally, it was almost as if he was being treated like an equal. They arrived at the sandwich shop around noon, and since it was a weekend it seemed to be packed with people. It seems as though Sherlock had seen more people, been in more crowds, and socialized more than he ever had in life simply in these past three days. The rugby game had been a zoo, and then the pizza place, and now this. Well you'd almost have to suspect that he was getting used to being simply a face in the crowd! The three of them stood idly in the line while they craned their neck, trying to think of something to order. The list of choices was very long, and being so far away Sherlock could barely read the options. Thankfully Sarah pushed through the register and grabbed three little menus, and so they were able to pick out what they wanted before they had to get right up to the counter. Sherlock ordered a ham and cheese sandwich on a bagel, accompanied by an iced tea and a bag of pretzels, while the girls ordered some sort of extensive sandwich with fancy lemonades and cookies. Sherlock was happy so see that he had around twelve dollars left when he received his change, some good pocket money that he could use to maybe buy a gift for John. Was that clingy or thoughtful? God he's never really had this issue before. While they waited for their sandwiches they found a nice little window seat, a small table with four metal chairs arranged messily around. The shop was so busy that Sherlock was relieved that they even found a table, but the presence of poppy seeds and some mysterious red smear near the napkins was probably enough to keep people away from this particular spot.

"I got a letter from Mike yesterday." Sarah started happily, kicking her high heels against the tiled floor below as if trying to emphasize her excitement. Sherlock looked at Molly hopefully, who just shook her head.
"Nothing yet for us, but I'm sure it's on its way." Molly assured.
"Ya, the letter was actually sent on Thursday, so it was all old news. However I just like reading his writing, it's so sloppy and unprofessional, not something I would expect from such a distinguished Wisteria boy." Sarah admitted, as if this was something of a disappointment.
"You think they'll write over the weekend right? Just as a sort of follow up?" Molly wondered, and Sherlock nodded positively.
"Ya of course. They're so dependent on us for entertainment, what else could they do?" Sherlock agreed with a laugh.
"What on earth do you mean by that?" Sarah wondered, as if Sherlock's harsh words offended her.
"I've been to Wisteria Sarah, and unless you have some sort of outside correspondent you get terribly bored and deprived of anything remotely exciting at all. They get bored of their roommates quickly, and it's nice to talk to someone who isn't in a tie once in a while." Sherlock admitted, and the girls nodded as if that made sense.
"Sometimes I forget that you went there. What was it like?" Molly wondered curiously, leaning forward on her elbows as if that would help her listen better. Sherlock just shrugged, obviously Molly didn't know that he liked to keep his past way in the back of his mind, but curiosity wasn't a sin.
"Imagine prison, but classier." Sherlock suggested, and the girls just laughed, as if they didn't believe him. Sure he was prone to being a touch overdramatic, but in all seriousness that was what Wisteria was. Throw in some education and some rude boys and you got yourself a dignified establishment.
"Surely it has to be better than that." Sarah insisted doubtfully, but Sherlock just laughed.
"Oh the optimism you have. No Sarah, it really isn't better than that. And you know it's bad if a homosexual can't enjoy himself in a school for all boys." Sherlock added in a bit of a whisper, and their whole table burst out into stifled laughter. It was nice for his sexuality to be treated normally, not a cruel joke but simply a tool to make a better joke, and they weren't laughing at him, like most people did, but with him. What a wonderful day this was turning out to be. Sherlock almost lost himself, however, or at least lost his pessimism, for a moment there, however he was torn out of whatever fantasy he was trying to stich around himself when their waiter arrived with the food. It wasn't difficult to recognize him, a trashy footballer from Lauriston, to which both girls smiled and fixed their hair. However the boy cast a rather fearful look at Sherlock before dumping their food rather hastily onto the table, not even bothering to say hello to the girls before racing back into the kitchens for protection. Sherlock sighed heavily, looking at his sad, disrupted bagel sandwich. The little stack of meat had fallen off after it had been thrown, and now if anything, it looked rather pathetic. The girls obviously didn't want to say anything, and Sherlock was thankful for that because he wouldn't have said anything himself. Food was a good cover for the lack of casual conversation, and so they rearranged their lunches and began to eat. The sandwich was everything you'd expect from a crowded little shop in the middle of the rather rundown town, tasteless and dry, however with the right amount of lemonade and pretzel breaks Sherlock was able to eat it without too much trouble. The girls seemed satisfied with their food, and now they were talking in hushed voices about the rumors they've heard about the boy who had been their very poor waiter. Sherlock opted out of this conversation simply because he had nothing to add, he wasn't part of the gossip circles simply because he was usually the topic of conversation. He could only wonder how many times Sarah and Molly had collected with their friends and discussed the rumors that were going around the school about him. Usually there was a new accusation every month or so, it didn't matter how minimally Sherlock talked or interacted with anyone, everyone month without fail there was a reason for him to keep his head down in shame. They always claimed that he was in love with one of the footballers, or maybe with one of their male teachers, or quite possibly that he had returned to Wisteria and murdered some of his previous classmates. The rumors get more and more ridiculous and yet no matter how absurd they obviously were, the entire school just eats them up. One time when the rumor was particularly insulting even the teachers avoided eye contact, as if they were scared of the poor skinny boy at the back of the classroom. It was obscenely annoying to say the least, and yet Sherlock had learned to handle the rumors quite well. He just didn't talk about them, didn't look at anyone, didn't even answer questions in class. He kept his head propped in a book for his entire existence, and that helped to block out any rude faces or gestures that were being flashed at him from the other side of the classroom. It was hard being the freak at school, but then again, someone had to do it, right?