A Change for the Better

by xelectrogirlx

Chapter One

New Student

"Have you seen the new kid?" Rob asks, plopping his bag down by the desk and sinking into his seat. John looks up from where he's doodling on his brand new pad of paper and shakes his head.

"No, why?"

"He just looks weird, that's all. I said 'hi' to him in the corridor, Josh was showing him round, and he just stared at me without saying anything. Come to think of it, he looked kinda like an alien."

John laughs and Rob joins in. "Well he sounds unusual."

"The guy's probably a complete freak," Rob responds, taking out his pencil case as Mr Hughes makes his way to the front of the class ready to begin the lesson. "Oh look, speak of the devil."
John looks up, interested despite himself. The new student is standing at the threshold, and behind him John can see Josh scurrying away. Mr Hughes has spotted him as well and immediately claps his hands together, drawing the class's attention.

"Ah, you must be…" he consults the register lying on his desk, "Sherlock, right? Unusual name. Come in."

The boy enters and stands by the desk. John notices that he doesn't seem to have the usual shyness and reserve of most new students. Instead odd almond shaped eyes scan the room with a cool, analytical stare.

"So, Sherlock, tell us a bit about yourself."

"Why?" The boy's voice is a low drawl with arrogance dripping from every syllable. Mr Hughes looks slightly taken aback.

"Why what?"

"Why must I tell you about myself? For you to teach well must you really know that I have an older brother, I like science and that my father died when I was seven?"

Mr Hughes flushes slightly. "Well, no but…"

"I'm sure you don't start every class by announcing that your cat just had kittens and that your mother has moved in with you to help out because your girlfriend has just left you to live in a commune with another woman."

There's a small titter from the class and a few shocked intakes of breath. Mr Hughes stammers and blinks hard several times, his eyes looking suspiciously watery behind his glasses. John, even though he has a natural dislike for most teachers, feels a little sorry for him.

"Told you he'd be a freak," Rob hisses next to him and John finds it hard to disagree.

"Right, Sherlock, go find an empty seat please," Mr Hughes says, turning to fiddle with something near the whiteboard so that his back is to the class. Sherlock walks confidently down the aisle until Joseph Winter sticks out a foot and neatly manages to trip him up. Sherlock tumbles to the floor, his books falling out of his arms and scattering to bump up against desk and chair legs. There's another louder titter from the class. Mr Hughes, turns around and sighs loudly.

"Sherlock, I told you to find a seat. This is no time to be playing games. You've already made quite enough of an entrance, thank you. Any more trouble and you'll be in detention before your first lesson's even over. Is that understood?"

Sherlock, scrambling to his feet and seeming all long legs and arms, nods. This time it's his turn to flush and John smirks to himself. The smirk fades as Sherlock makes a beeline for him and with a dawning sort of horror he realises that his desk is the only one with an empty seat. Rob is already looking at him pityingly.

Sherlock folds himself in next to him and John automatically shifts his chair away a little.

"I don't bite you know," Sherlock informs him, raising an eyebrow disdainfully. John slides his eyes away.

"Don't talk to me."

"Why not?"

"We're not friends. And Mr Hughes is talking."

Sherlock lets out a snort but as John casts a quick glance at him he sees the other boy looks hurt before his features carefully smooth into a mask of indifference once more. John feels a low coil of guilt settle in his stomach but he ignores it and tries to pay attention to what Mr Hughes is saying.

As the lesson draws to a close, John flings his equipment into his rucksack and heads for the door as fast as he can.

"I saw the freak was trying to talk to you," Rob says, bumping his shoulder into John's playfully. "What was he saying?"

John rolls his eyes. "Nothing really. I made it clear I didn't wanna talk to him."

Rob grins. "Good on you. I mean I don't like teachers or anything but what he said to Hughes was totally out of order."

Kind of incredible at the same time, John thinks. He didn't like that Sherlock had embarrassed Mr Hughes in front of everybody but he had to admit, even just to himself, that the other boy must be some kind of genius if all that he'd said was correct. And, judging by Hughes's reaction, it had been.

"What've you got next?"

"English," John says, pulling out his timetable and groaning. "What about you?"

"History with Lancaster." Rob makes a face and swings right down a different corridor, waving his hand in John's general direction. "Catch you later."

John's approaching his English classroom when he feels a tap on his shoulder. Turning around he finds himself face to face with Sherlock. This close he can see that Sherlock's eyes are a strange mixture of green and blue, the hue seeming to change continually. His wild dark hair falls in tangled curls over his pale forehead and a faint tinge of pink stains his high cheekbones as he stares down at John.

"What?" John mutters, shifting his feet and avoiding meeting Sherlock's piercing gaze.

"Is this the right corridor for English with Mrs Philllips?" Sherlock asks.

"Yeah. Don't you have the number of the room on your timetable?"

He looks at Sherlock just in time to see him send a withering glare in his direction.

"I do have the number. Unfortunately it seems that the majority of the rooms in this corridor do not."

John glances around and realises that he's right. The room numbers which used to be on the doors have now been either torn off or scribbled over. Without a map pointing out exactly which room he's supposed to be in, there's no way Sherlock would ever be able to find his way around.

"What happened to Josh?" John asks roughly.

"He scarpered after I informed him that having one testicle significantly bigger than the other was not necessarily a problem but that he should have it checked out by his GP. I may have also told him that his acne was hereditary and that he'd have it for at least another two years."

John whistles, impressed despite himself. "Wow, you really don't hold back, do you?"

"No. What would be the point?"

"I dunno. Cos you're kind of a jerk when you say things like that and I would've thought you'd want people to like you?"
"Most people are idiots. Why would I want them to like me?"

John raises his hands. "Fine. Whatever. As it happens, I'm in your English class so I can show you the way." He pauses and eyes Sherlock speculatively. "Go on, do me."
Sherlock blinks. "What?"

"Tell me all my secrets. I want to make sure you're not just making this up on the spot."

For some reason Sherlock seems hesitant. He shuffles his feet slightly and lowers his gaze to the floor, the faint pink tinging his cheekbones turning a brighter red. "I…"

"Come on. Or I really will think it's all bullshit."

"Fine." Sherlock raises his gaze back to John's face with a kind of desperation in his eyes. "You live with your parents and your older brother. Your father knocks you around on a fairly regular basis. Your mother used to try and protect you but now she doesn't bother and instead drowns herself in drink. Your brother is heading the same way. You don't have a lot of money and have several different plans about what to do after school, one of them being joining the army and one being medicine."

He stops and screws his eyes shut. John blinks.

"Wow. That was… wow. That was amazing, Sherlock."

Slowly Sherlock opens his eyes, looking faintly disbelieving.

"What did you say?"

"I said that was amazing. I genuinely thought you were making it all up but that was almost totally accurate."

"Almost?"

John shrugs. "I have an older sister, not brother. How did you even get that?"

Sherlock winces. "Sister! There's always something. Harry's short for Harriet I presume. It's on your rucksack, she clearly owned it before you. That's also how I guessed your family was poor. Hand-me-downs and also the state of your uniform."

"What's wrong with it?"

Sherlock raises his eyebrow. "Really? You want me to give you a list?"

"Okay, okay. Point taken."

"Do you want me to tell you how I got the rest of it?"

"No, it's fine. No need to show off. Besides, it's fairly obvious how you got the thing about my dad. I suppose the bruises kind of speak for themselves."

Sherlock looks vaguely uncomfortable. "Should I not have mentioned that? You did say to tell you all your secrets."

"Whatever. You've got no filter, I get it. But you should be prepared to make yourself a few enemies if you carry on the way you're going."

"Are you my enemy, John?"

John is suddenly struck by Sherlock's naivety. It's like he has no idea what is appropriate to bring up in this sort of social situation and instead just says aloud whatever crosses his mind at the time.

"No," he says eventually, turning away, "but you're kind of weird. You should probably try and fit in more. Most people won't take kindly to having their life stories aired in front of everybody else. English is this way."

XXXXXXXXXX

Over the next few weeks, Sherlock and John hardly interact at all. They have a few classes together but that's it. Then one day, Mr Hughes decides to set a new project which means they have to work as a pair.

"Seriously? We have to work with our desk partner? Why?"

Next to him Sherlock sighs loudly.

"Don't argue with me, John. You're working with Sherlock and that's that. Now I want your projects handed in a month from today. I will set no other homework during that time so that you can give it your full attention." The bell rings and everybody begins packing up. John finishes stuffing his books into his bag and turns towards the door.

"So your house or mine?"

"Jesus, what? Sherlock…"

"I'm keen to get started straight away and seeing as you're pretty useless at Chemistry I'd have thought you'd want all the time you can get."

"Jesus," John says wonderingly, "you really are something else."

Sherlock looks faintly puzzled. "I don't understand. Is that a compliment?"

"You know what, never mind. I think we should go to yours." John flushes and scuffs his trainer against the floor. "My dad doesn't like company."

"I'll meet you outside the gates then," Sherlock says, swinging his bag over his shoulder. John nods and picks up his rucksack.

He's just exited the classroom when Rob runs up to him and claps a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey man. Too bad about working with the freak."

"He has a name," John responds sharply. Rob raises both hands in mock surrender.

"You can't deny he's a weirdo though. Anyway, Ryan's having a party next month. Me and some of the other guys were thinking that you should get the freak to go."
"Why? You want to humiliate him in public?" John feels his palms begin to sweat. He's been wary of something like this happening ever since he first got in with the sporty popular crowd at school. He'd have had to be blind not to notice the way Rob, Will, Ryan and Joe treat some of the misfits at this school. It stands to reason that Sherlock, the most strange of them all, would catch their attention. "I don't know. Is that really necessary?"

"You know he called Amy a slut and a whore the other day?" Rob asks belligerently. "All she did was try to be nice to him and he basically told her that she slept with half the school for various favours."

John feels a little sick. The Fuller family have been friends of the Watsons for years. Amy Fuller, a year younger, is almost like a little sister to him.

"Besides, what are you, some kind of queer? Do you fancy Sherlock or something?"

John feels panic turn his already slightly sweaty palms clammy. For years he has striven to hide his inclination towards men. It's now got to the point where he feels irrationally guilty and ashamed anytime he showers with the rest of the guys after P.E. Even though none of them are anywhere near his type sometimes he worries that there is some sort of neon sign flashing over his head.

And does he fancy Sherlock? The simple yet complicated answer would be yes. Yes, he does find the other boy strangely fascinating and attractive. At the same time, he finds himself intimidated and a little freaked out by him.

"No!" he says vehemently, forcing a laugh from his throat. "Jesus, Rob. No."

"Then you'll get him to the party? You're his partner for this dumbass project. You can persuade him. C'mon, it's not like we're going to beat him up or anything. We'll just take him down a peg or two. It's for his own good. He's never going to get anywhere in life if he stays as arrogant as he is now." He sees John start to waver and plays his ace. "Do it for Amy, John. She's so upset about what he said to her."

"Alright, alright!" John responds eventually, tangling a hand in his hair. "I'll do it. But nothing too excessive, okay?"

"I promise," Rob says earnestly.