|A fic of mine...
||[Mar. 26th, 2011|08:09 pm]
Fan Fiction...all about the Great Detective!!!!!
I posted this on fanfiction.net under the name supremegreendragon. I wanted to show it on here. I find this site confusing so I'm sorry if I screw this up. |
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes. The characters belong to Conan Doyle. I don't make any money from these writings.
Word Count: 1284
Warning: Slash. Boyxboy
Summary: AU set in current time. When Sherlock meets John, it results in a very jealous James Moriarty. As far as he is concern, Sherlock is his. HolmesxWatson, Onesided MoriartyxHolmes
Four year old Sherlock could count to one thousand. Really he did it once. But for the game they only wanted him to count to ten. His little hands covered his eyes as he counted.
“Ready or not. Here I come.”
He didn’t make it a habit to play with other children but he did need someone’s cooperation if he wanted to practice his hunting down techniques. A detective in training had to train everyday so that by the time he was a grown-up, he could track down that Lupin III guy he saw on the telly once.
Many of the others gave themselves away by giggling whenever Sherlock was near. He found Benny behind the fake orchid plant, Sarah underneath the arts and crafts table and Clarky covered in the coats hanging on the coat hanger. Too easy. Only one more to go.
Of course, he was the main challenge. It took Sherlock almost five whole minutes to even get a clue as to where the fat bully was hiding. Then he spotted his culprit almost camouflaged with face paint in the Wild Jungle section of the enormous playroom. The culprit laughed at being found, though the laugh to Sherlock sounded meaner than any other child’s.
James wasn’t actually fat but he was a bully. A big bully that thought he could do whatever he wanted. James had minions too, that were too dumb to think for themselves. Under his orders they stole other children’s cookies, painted over other children’s paintings and mixed all colors of the play-dough so it was all ruined. Sherlock tried to catch them in the act but the teachers would never listen. They believe the much older five year old boy to his own words.
“It took you too long to find me by yourself. So I let you find me,” James teased.
“Na-uh!” Sherlock argued.
“A-huh,” James shot back.
And then they both began na-uhing and a-huhing back and forward at each other until one of the teachers, Mrs. Penny who had a constant headache, told them to shut their traps. Both boys stopped.
James pulled out a handkerchief he kept in his pocket (for fashion, he said) and wiped the paint off completely. He smiled at Sherlock, his eyes gleaming.
“Well, since you won I guess you deserve a reward. A kiss to the victor.”
Sherlock had expected this, he turned before James could grab him and ran. James watched the younger boy dart all the way to the other side of the room. He felt a stab of hurt but refused to show it to the other kids’ who were watching. Instead he just smiled that same plastered smile he had all his life.
He had plans for the future. When he grew up he was going to rule the world and his first order of business would be to pass a law saying that Sherlock had to marry him. Then Sherlock would be a stay-at-home wife while he, as the ruler of the world, made big decisions like which country would win the Olympics. Oh yes, he couldn’t wait to grow up.
James had not followed Sherlock that day, for which the four year old was grateful. He hated the days James was in the mood to follow him everywhere. He hated all the attention the elder boy gave him. And how jealous the bully was! Last Valentine’s Day he tore all of Sherlock’s other Valentine’s Day cards so that the only thing he had left was what James gave him.
Sherlock was sitting alone at the arts and crafts table. All the teachers learned by now that the boy wouldn’t play with other children willingly until he felt like it. Sometimes Sherlock’s favorite thing to do was to just sit and think. His older brother teased him about that constantly, saying that’s what old men do.
In the background the voices droned and the noise mixed together like a terrible tasting soup. But something caught Sherlock’s eye. The friendliest teacher, Miss Periwinkle, was talking to a grown woman he had never seen before. In the woman’s hands was an older boy with strange markings underneath his nose. Sherlock blocked out all the other noise and focused closely on what was being said by the two grown-ups.
“Well I’m sure John will love it here,” Miss Periwinkle said with a genuine smile before turning to the boy, “And there are plenty of sick toys that need to be taken care of, little doctor.”
Her cooing caused the boy apparently named John to blush.
“T-thank you,” he stammered.
“By the way,” Miss Periwinkle was addressing the other grown-up once more, “I couldn’t help but notice the...marker prints on his face.”
The woman cradling John sighed. She had been expecting this.
“Yes, he does this everyday. His mustache, you know?”
Miss Periwinkle smiled at that. She remarked that John looked very manly like that and that he might be mistaken for a college student. John knew he was being babied and hated it. He asked his mother to let him down, which she did. His mother waved him off with a smile.
After that John looked around his new school. All the children were laughing and running around. It looked like lots of fun. His eyes set on a boy who was sitting by himself. The dark haired boy was staring back at him. John blinked a few times before making his way over.
“Hello,” he greeted when he reached the table, “I’m John. Wanna’ be best friends?”
Sherlock had had offers like that before. He turned them all down, thinking his detective work shouldn’t be tied down by such relationships. But did the women say he was wanting to become a doctor? That would be a type of friend that wouldn’t hinder a detective’s work but help it instead. Sherlock quickly went through all the possibilities in his head and decided that the friendship with this one would be worth it.
“I’m Sherlock,” he said reaching for a handshake.
John stared at it for a second, as if unsure what to do. Then he took the offered hand and awkwardly shook it. Sherlock’s eyes lit up in realization. He stared at the other boy’s hand for a moment, then looked up.
“You like flowers, don’t you?”
The reaction was immediate. John blushed and pulled his hand away.
“What! No of course not. That’s a girl thing.”
“It’s alright,” Sherlock stated softly, “I like flowers too. Especially roses. You were holding a rose a few days ago, weren’t you? One that had thorns.”
The five year old doctor-to-be was astonished.
“How did you know?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Sherlock loved having the chance to use big words like ‘obvious,’ “The cuts are almost gone now but they’re clearly rose thorn marks. You must’ve seen a rose and grabbed it without checking for thorns. Which makes me believe that you like flowers.”
John looked at Sherlock in newfound wonder.
“Wow. That’s amazing.”
This time Sherlock was caught off guard. Was John really that impressed? He had never seen an older kid look at him like that, almost as if he looked up to him at that moment and not the other way around.
“You really mean that?”
John nodded without hesitation. Sherlock felt something pleasant stir in his chest just then. He liked John already. Neither one of them were aware that they were being watched. James glared when he saw how they were oogling each other. He was so mad he broke the red crayon he was drawing with into two pieces.