Kidlock fic WIP (UNEDITED) Chap 1
He hated the flowers under his feet and the flies that nipped at his skin and the grass that tickled his knees and the breeze that made him shiver.
He hated himself for not wearing anything more then his shorts, penny loafers, and button shirt. He tried a bit to muck up his fancy new shoes because he hated them and he pulled his shirt out of his pants just to look a little more wild. Yes, wild was good. Wild meant no rules, no people, no Mycroft, no anything! He could just be alone with his thoughts and no one would ever bother him again. That would show them. That's exactly what he would be now! He would be a wild boy and live in the woods and eat rabbits and bee honey and climb trees and throw rocks at anyone who entered his forest. And he would be so pleased with himself he wouldn't ever go back to his old home again!
Sherlock took this time to grab a hand full of dirt and mud and chuck it at nothing. He cried out and kicked rocks and decimated marigolds with his fists and he cried. He hated crying. It was stupid and silly and he hated it. Sherlock wiped his eyes with his dirty hand which didn't help his cause because then he got dirt in his eye and that just fueled more tears.
He screamed out in frustration and pulled out more flowers and he hoped that whoever's garden this was would see and they would get upset because Sherlock hated them too! He hated absolutely everyone, even the people he didn't know. He hoped they suffered and cried just like him and felt stupid for crying and he bet they were stupid because Sherlock hated stupid people.
"Are you mad?!" Came a voice from behind him.
Sherlock turned to glare at whoever had caught him and found himself staring a boy about his age. He still had dirt in his right eye but from what he could see:
Short, blonde, red in the face, wearing a light blue sweater vest, brown corduroy pants, white socks, no shoes. There was a silver necklace around his neck that hid under his vest. Sherlock thought it strange for a boy to wear a necklace. His eyes were a silvery blue, a color Sherlock found comforting. It reminded him of rainy days where his mother didn't make him go out and play with other kids.
He was properly tan, proving that he was outside a lot of the time. There were a few minor cuts and bruises on his knees and elbows, he probably enjoyed sports. The boy was angry but not tense. His shoulders were raise to indicate-
The blond boy interrupted and Sherlock became puzzled.
"Well, what?" He retorted.
The boy raised his eyebrows as if he were stunned that Sherlock couldn't answer his question.
"Are you mad? Answer me!"
The boy huffed and picked himself up from the dirt and grass. He stood at least 10 inches taller then the other boy and he thought that would give him an advantage in argument.
The smaller boy scowled at him with the same about of anger and bewilderment as before. He showed no signs of fear.
"No, I'm not mad. Are you?"
"Of course not!" He spat back. "I'm not the one yelling and hurting Mum's garden for no reason!"
He seemed surprised. "You do?"
He scowled again. "That's not a good 'nuff reason!"
He started to approach when Sherlock instinctively leaped back, damaging a few more flowers.
"Stop it!" The boy shouted.
The smaller boy was about to retort with something when suddenly his face went soft. He cocked his head and his lips parted a bit.
"Yeah you are look!" He pointed a finger at his cheek. Sherlock curiously brought a hand to his face and winced. He moved his hand away fast and examined, with his good eye, the warm red liquid on his finger tips. Suddenly he began to feel the sting. He must've cut himself on a rose thorn or something in the midst of his tantrum. He hadn't even noticed.
"Oh." He could feel the tears beginning to come, as they always did when he was hurt. He blushed a shade of pink and squeezed his eyes shut. He really really hated crying.
Sherlock opened his good eye to see the boy extending a hand towards him. The anger in his face was gone and it was replaced by concern.
Cautiously, Sherlock took his hand and let the boy pull him out of the garden. He was lead through the grass and flowers up to a brown house.
Inside it was warm and it smelled like vanilla. Sherlock was placed in a kitchen chair, from which his feet dangles from, and the other boy said he would find some bandages. Sherlock reluctantly let go of his hand and was left alone in the room.
After a quick examination he learned that the boy's mother and father fought quite frequently and were on the edge of divorce, the boy had a big brother who got in trouble a lot, his mother was overly protective because of a defect that either the boy or his brother had, and the father was rarely home.
The boy returned with a handful of medical supplies. Antibacterial spray, band aids, cotton swabs. Sherlock worried he might drop it all.
He pulled up another chair awfully close to Sherlock and sat across from him with the supplies in his lap.
"Don't worry, I'm good with fixing hurts. I fix Harry all the time when she comes home wrong."
"Harry's your brother?" Sherlock asked.
The boy shook his head. "She's my big sister." He brought a damp handkerchief to the cut and dabbed it lightly. "She says I'm a good doctor because I clean her up really nice so mum and da won't notice her hurts."
Sherlock nodded. "What's your name?"
The boy looked up and smiled a bit. "M'names John. Yours?"
"Sherlock? That's a funny name."
Sherlock frowned and looked at his feet. John soon caught on that he was offended.
"It's not a bad name! It's nice really. I've never met anyone named Sherlock but I know lots of John's. You must be special or sumfing."
Sherlock looked back at him and he didn't smile, but John could see he was forgiven.
He held up a tiny spray bottle. "This will hurt, you can hold my hand if you want."
Sherlock nodded and did just that.
Sherlock did, really tight.
John sprayed his cut and Sherlock squeeze hard on his hand, but John didn't complain.
"There, all done with that."
He placed a band aid onto Sherlock's face. Then he did something Sherlock didn't really expect.
John kissed his cheek where the band aid was.
Sherlock's eyes opened really wide and he placed a hand over the place where he was kissed. John blushed and muttered,
"It makes it heal faster."
Sherlock nodded, and then, he smiled.
John hopped down from his chair and motioned for Sherlock to follow, and he did.
He took John's hand again and shuffled behind him.
"Why's your house empty?"
"Mum and da went out, Harry's 'upposed to be watching me."
Sherlock didn't press any further to what 'out' meant.
They were walking up the steps to the upstairs of John's house.
"Asthma or epilepsy?" Sherlock finally asked.
John stopped in the middle of the steps and gave him a questioning look.
"Asthma or epilepsy ? Which one do you have? You have your medical awareness necklace on. I was wondering."
John looked at him some more before pulling the necklace out from under his vest. Sure enough, it had the medical awareness emblem on it.
