Hey, starting teenlock story. Please review, suggestions always welcome, enncouragement makes my day and makes me want to write more:). story in progress. Hope you like!

John Watson is a boy in his late teens, currently attending London's 5th Secondary School. He lost it all. He has no friends, no home, nothing.

John was walking to school, as usual, clearing his head and enjoying the fresh, crisp fall air. One of the few things he enjoyed anymore. He breathed in the damp morning air and watched two squirrels chase each other up a tree from across the road. It would be nice to be free, he thought, not have to go to school, or worry about life taking its toll. John was alone, only his footsteps echoed off the sidewalk. He was usually alone. Nothing new.

The sun rose slowly as John made his way to school, painting the clouds bright oranges and pinks. It really was beautiful, and John felt lucky to be witnessing the birth of a new day, regardless of the quality of it. Time and space lost meaning as John absentmindedly walked the remaining way to the front doors of the large old brick building. Time for another day of torture. John pushed open the door and tripped, stumbling in before regaining his balance. Some of his old friends pushed him. Jerks. The bullies spat ugly words at John all the way to his first class, where they departed. Calculus, how fun. John ignored the bullies and their taunts, he was used to it by now. Ever since…

John stopped himself before thinking back. John took his seat at the back of the classroom, an empty desk on either side of him. No one wanted to sit with him anymore. The bleak classroom slowly filled with more bodies and loud sounds of laughter and complaints. John's teacher- Mrs. Pinord- walked in not long after. She was short and mean looking, with pointed glasses and aging hair. The class fell silent and Mrs. Pinord cleared her throat, ready to start class when in came two students. Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper. The teacher glared at them before they automatically tucked their heads down and resumed their seats in the middle row, quickly and silently.

John thought Sherlock was handsome, a tall, smart, unpopular guy but friendly and there was no reason not to like him. Sherlock had a bright smile and curly dark hair that bounced when he walked. Molly was his best friend, they did everything together. She was cute, but obviously hung up on Sherlock. She was smart too, and didn't seem to mind that she wasn't popular. They were happy, they were friends. That's all John wanted, a real friend.

John's fantasies were interrupted by Mrs. Pinord. "John, do you know the answer?" John stirred, confused and scared. "Um, no ma'am. Sorry." John replied, heart pounding. "Does anyone know the answer?" She drawled. "How about you Sherlock." "The answer is 50 876." Sherlock replied quietly. Some of the kids snickered, whether at John's stupidity or Sherlock's smarts he wasn't sure. Great, now he looks like an idiot. John internally groaned.

The class dragged on and finally finished, the loud bell signaling his next class. Chemistry. Chemistry would be fun, if John had a partner. Usually he ended up working alone or paired with someone who didn't do anything anyway. John walked in the bright lab, turning the small bottle in his pocket. The bottle contained a pill. He felt Sherlock's eyes glance over him from behind, then at his side and his fingers in his pocket. John retracted his hand and took his seat in the front row. Their teacher was an older man, and no one could pronounce his name so everyone called him Mr. T. Mr. T grinned and walked to the front of his classroom, a pile of papers in his hand.

Tests were marked. John groaned again.

The teacher started handing out the tests, smiling at some people and frowning at others. When he got to John he set the paper face down and looked John in the eye. "John can I speak to you after class please?" He didn't have a choice. John nodded, stomach rolling. He flipped over his paper and shut his eyes. Another D. John stuffed the paper in his bag and listened to Mr. T go through the outline for the next unit. His fingers simultaneously moved to play with the pill. Maybe today.

Class passed and John felt Sherlock's eyes watching him from behind. Occasionally he could hear indistinctive whispering and giggling from Sherlock and Molly. John couldn't help but feel jealous. At the end of class, John shoved his papers in his torn backpack and once everyone had left, walked up with his head hanging low to the teacher's desk. "John," Mr. T started. "That's your third D this month. Is something going on at home?" John simply said "No." The teacher eyed his suspiciously. "I'd like to talk with your parents." John's heart hammered. He hasn't been home in nearly a year now. "They're on a trip. Please don't contact them, I'll… I'll study more, I'll get my grades up." John, desperately now, pleading.

"If your mark is below a C on the next test I'll have no choice. I'm sorry" "Thank you, thank you." John was turning to leave when his teacher cleared his throat. "Uh John, If you want to talk about anything, the guidance office is across from the main office, and I'm here too, and I'm sure any of your teachers is willing to listen and help." John almost smiled, someone cared. "Thanks but, uh, I'm okay." John patted his pocket. No point in talking to anyone. He'd made his decision. Mr. T smiled and nodded, dismissing him.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. English was boring, eating lunch alone outside, History was unbelievably dry and then it was time for home. Well, not for John. Now it was time for work.

Tonight he'd do it. He'd go to a park, the park he went to with his sister Harry and his parents, when they were happy. John smiled at the thought of finally being at peace as he walked to the fast food kink in front of his makeshift secret home. No, not home. Home is where you feel safe and comfortable. Definitely not home.

John threw his bag in the trapdoor and put on his work uniform outside in the ally. An apron with the shop logo and a dorky hat shaped like the DUNNs cap. Working for 6 hours straight after school was tiring, but he needed the money. After his long shift with two breaks to eat and rest, using his employee discount, John returned back to the trapdoor.

He slid the box covering the lid off and unlocked the wooden door in the ground. John lowered himself into the 5ftx5ft space. There lay a dirty pillow and blanket, his backpack, a lantern and a small chest containing some clothing and personal items on the floor of packed dirt. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get by. All of this he earned. He dug the space, bought the essentials from a thrift shop and got by. Except for the lock, that he'd bought at a hardware store. The wood was from a scrapyard.

John ripped off his uniform, throwing it on the ground. Wouldn't matter anymore. He grabbed a jumper, bit chilly. John looked at his 'space' and locked it from the outside, pocketing the key. Patting his pockets, John felt the bottle. Exhaling, he stared walking towards the park.