Fic: Making of Sherlock
Title: Making Of Sherlock
Rating: Any
Summary: Prompt: "High social anxiety is ruining my life. Whatever, I just want to see character dealing with this disorder." I can't say this fic met her desires, but I do kinda like it. Also, it's my longest kink meme fic.
"He always was a freak and always will be," Donovan muttered.
Sherlock watched Donovan turn away, face straight and unemotional. It was on the tip of his tongue to argue, to tell her she was wrong - but anything besides the insults and quips were outside his comfort zone with her. No matter how much he desired to snap at her for her rudeness, he never would.
Donovan would laugh if she knew the truth.
He had spent years crafting who he was, creating the rules that allow him to so fearlessly control any space he was in.
As a child, there hadn’t been an issue. He’d been normal enough - quiet, enjoyed running, disinterested in school, fascinated by mysteries. Abstractly he had realized he was smarter than everyone else, but what did that matter when there were trees to explore, space pirates to catch, and books to read. He wasn't one for people, but it wasn't that people didn't like him. He had a best friend in school. Occasionally they'd get together on the weekends to terrorize pigeons.
When his friend had moved away, Sherlock never found himself getting a new one. It didn't matter too much, he had just discovered chemistry and it really was very easy to make explosions.
Then one day he found himself at university, standing in his single and trying to work up the courage to step outside and interact with other freshman. It wasn't that he was scared or anything, but he didn't know what to say. How to act. As he looked over the past couple years, trying to figure out what to do he realized he had no idea. He hadn't ever really interacted with people. He was at home most the time, snarling at his brother or playing with his chemistry set. At school he ate alone while reading mystery novels and in class he sat in the middle of the classroom, turned in his homework on time, and was ignored by teachers as much as he ignored them.
Grabbing his courage, he opened his door and walked until he found a bench. Promptly sitting, he watched people passing. Tried to imagine talking to them - or at least, he tried to until someone made eye contact and then Sherlock's eyes darted away and he made out like he was waiting for someone. Only ten minutes later he stood and walked off, unable to sit there any longer. He tried to familiarize himself with the campus and when no one was looking at him, he'd look at them.
That night, he turned off his lights and pretended he wasn't in when other freshman knocked on his door. He could hear them laughing and introducing themselves. Sherlock tried to imagine himself among them and couldn't.
--
The pattern continued long enough to become a part of his schedule. Class was easy and took no effort, and he found himself watching the professor and analyzing rather than listening to lecture. As winter started to thaw out, Sherlock found himself angry and frustrated. He had yet to talk to a single person except for a couple mumbled greeting in the hall outside his room which didn't count.
He didn't know what to do about it, but it was on the forefront of his thoughts when a student was forced to sit next to him in a full lecture. The professor was late and Sherlock sat still in his seat, overly aware of the lack of space, tucking his arm against his side to avoid contact and shuffling his feet in an attempt to find more space.
"I hate it when they're running late. So annoying, right?"
It took Sherlock a couple seconds too long to realize the student was talking to him. "Ah, right." He said, trying to look without looking at the student and failing miserably. The student was male and had some bulk, but not from sports or working out. Likely, he often had to deal with being mistaken as a bully. He didn’t seem to mind Sherlock’s attempt to study him.
"I'm Jason." Jason said, angling his body towards Sherlock and letting him see an easy going smile. The shifting gave Sherlock slightly more space and allowed him to breath again.
Sherlock tried to smile, "Sherlock."
"So, what do you think of the class so far? I know it's only the second class - and hey, you look kinda familiar, I think we had a class together last semester or something." Jason smiled, and Sherlock wondered how he was supposed to respond to the chatter.
"Huh, maybe?" Sherlock had been too afraid to look at the other people in his classes. "The class isn't bad but the professor-"
Anything more he had to say would have to wait as the professor arrived and began lecture. At the end, Sherlock tried to figure out what he was supposed to say when Jason smiled again and said later, walking out.
Sherlock thought the conversation a fluke, congratulating himself on not making a fool of himself, and was completely unprepared when Jason sat next to him again. He didn't say anything, pulling out pens and paper for notes and Sherlock found himself trying to talk.
"Hey," he finally got out. He didn't know what to follow it with.
Jason laughed, "Hey, you're here early today."
"I'm always early." It was true, Sherlock always arrived at least ten minutes early. "But you are early today." At least, compared to last time where he arrived a minute before class was to begin. Sherlock couldn’t say if it was normal behavior but Jason hadn’t seemed bothered by.
"Yup, figured we might actually get in a conversation this time." Jason grinned and Sherlock felt his stomach drop, what had they had last time if not a conversation? If that had been his intention, why hadn’t Jason talked first? What was he supposed to do?
"It'd probably be easier if we had it outside of class." Sherlock said, then froze, what was he saying?
Jason didn't seem to mind, nodding, "True, are you busy after class? You could come to my place and we can study for the first test - I can't believe the professor has already assigned a test!"
“A crueler thing can’t be imagined.” Sherlock said, unable to believe himself. But Jason was laughing again and Sherlock felt a little braver, “But yes, this is my last class of the day.”
“Awesome.”
--
Sherlock wouldn’t say Jason saved his life, but he made it a great deal easier. Through Jason, Sherlock found a social life and people he might say he almost knew. He still didn’t talk to anyone without prompting or Jason there to smooth things over, but people smiled when he walked in.
Sherlock and Jason decided to live together for their second year, Jason had suggested it, “Dude, you’re quiet and smart and clean - why wouldn’t I want you for a roomie?” and Sherlock had quickly agreed. When Jason had suggested they take a theater class together, “Easy A man,” Sherlock had reluctantly agreed.
The class was as terrible as Sherlock expected. Having to stand in front of everyone and act. Two weeks in, after the first full class performance, Jason laughed. Sherlock was sweating and flustered and still trying to recover from being on stage when Jason turned to him, “You were amazing! Standing up there, imposing and growling and getting your lines perfect. You play a terrifying detective.”
That was the first time Sherlock learned his feelings were lying to him.
A man of science, Sherlock decided to experiment. He’d take a taxi 15 minutes out where no one knew him, where no one would remember him, and he would try talking to strangers. He would be polite to one, acting lost, and to another he would sneer and walk on. Others he would interrupt a conversation to help or run up asking nonsense questions. He would pretend authority or act as a terrified father.
Or at least, that was the plan. The first three times he got out of the taxi and froze. He would attempt his plan and terror would stiffen his limbs. But no matter his feelings on the matter, his determination was stronger.
His first successful interaction was by accident. He watched the taxi drive off and took a slow breath. Turning abruptly he tried to walk off only to run directly into an older gentleman.
The man frowned, hand coming up to berate and Sherlock snarled first, “Truly what is wrong with your eyes old man?” and continued on leaving the man spluttering behind him.
His hands trembled when he went to brush aside his hair and he checked rude off his mental checklist. Rather than trying again, he found himself a café and took a window table.
The terror sat deep inside him at every encounter, shivering and crippling and ruining some of his attempts. But slowly he began to succeed more than he failed and after awhile, when he become more comfortable, or perhaps simply more used to, addressing strangers he realized how clueless they all were. His terror never translated, his worry, his fear - all people saw was what he let them see. Yet no matter what he told himself, he couldn’t carry on the act with anyone he knew.
The problem, he quickly found, was with his feelings. After his experiments, it was obvious he was the only one aware of his fear. It was ridiculous. Further experiments, and a great deal of common sense, revealed that it didn’t matter what he did, there was no repercussions. So his fear was pointless. And if he could not trust his emotions, than he had to rely on logic.
The next stage of his experiment was harder. Rather than trying to overcome his fear, rather than trying to control his emotions Sherlock would dismiss them. Logic would control the next stage. He was moving the location to his classroom. Much like he met Jason originally, he found himself intentionally sitting next to people before class and greeting them. The social situation dictated a response but conversation would be short due to the beginning of class. He would categorize how they responded and provide a response in turn and study their reaction.
His findings surprised him. People were boring. They acted the same, followed the same script. He was able to easily carry out a conversation. He took his findings out to his bench and studied people again. Watching them smile and greet and talk. Watching the same conversation over and over with different voices and words but the same material.
He took his findings and applied it to one of Jason’s friends. One Sherlock saw occasionally.
“Hello Rick,” Sherlock said as Rick walked in, airing his shirt. Not from the gym but his afternoon run likely.
Rick’s eyebrow went up, “Hey Sherlock.”
“How’s it been?” Sherlock had originally planned to ask ‘how was your day’, but figured it might be too intimate. He had overheard two male friends using ‘how’s it been’ yesterday while he was observing interactions. It seemed appropriate.
Rick shrugged, “You know, busy what with mid-terms right around the corner. Actually, that’s why I’m here. Seen Jason or Michael? We’re meeting to study for our bio class.”
“Ah, I believe he went to get snacks. He had been looking around the kitchenette and rushed out - you just missed him.” Sherlock answered calmly, focusing on his breathing and pulse. Rick did not appear to be having any trouble or notice anything off, so Sherlock figured he was responding correctly.
“That’s cool. It is his turn to provide them. I guess that means Michael isn’t here yet.” Rick said as he sat in the chair across from Sherlock, falling immediately into a slouch.
Sherlock found it curious. These useless statements made just to carry on the flow of conversation. It was as pointless as his fear, but something much more easy to master. “No, no he isn’t. What time are you guys supposed to be meeting?” At 3, Sherlock knew because Jason had started panicking at 2:30 and darted out at 2:37. It takes 4 minutes to reach the closest store but at this time of day it would be crowded with students just out of class. Rick had arrived at 2:54, early but not unreasonable - especially as Rick had a habit of always arriving at least 5 minutes early. Michael was often late by 3 minutes, not enough for people to comment on.
“Three. I’m just a little early. Nothing to do at home so I might as well be here, right?” Rick laughed.
Sherlock forced himself to chuckle. He found it eased his terror a little to appear to be fitting in. As the laughs stopped, Sherlock took a slow breath, the next step. “Do you need anything? A drink?”
“Nah, I’m good. I should probably get a little reading in, let you get back to your own.” Rick shrugged, “Besides, it shouldn’t take them too long to get here. I can wait.”
Sherlock nodded, and glanced back down at his book. His eyes refused to focus on the words and he could feel the sweat dripping down his back. He had to focus on his breathing to prevent panting. He had survived his first attempt, something much more difficult that dealing with strangers ever could be, but found the overall event distasteful. A waste of time.
--
He continued to keep the façade of friendship with Rick. They chatted when he came over usually, once Rick had called out when Sherlock had passed him at a café. Sherlock found it tiring and troublesome, but rewarding. Rick was the first person he actually initiated conversation with continuously outside of Jason.
It bolstered his belief that his feelings just got in the way. Next time he was in the library, he posed a challenge for himself. Rather than just finding the book he required by himself, as usual, he forced himself to ask the librarian. He reassured himself multiple times before and during the event - it’s her job and the worse that happens is she can’t help were the two most common things running through his head. She found his book in twice the time it would have taken him but had a smile for him.
Sherlock decided his experiment was complete.
Later that night, Jason had a small get-together. It was too quiet to be a party but Sherlock found it almost overwhelming. He was nursing a beer, trying to fit in, when Jason collapsed into the chair next to him.
“I was a bit worried you know?” Jason said, a slight slurring suggesting it was not his first bottle. “You’re a great guy, but so quiet. I was worried for you. But now you’re friends with Rick too and it makes me happy to know you’re okay.”
Sherlock looked over, trying to figure out how to respond. This was not covered by his research.
Jason smiled, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Yes, you’ve said that.” Sherlock said.
Jason nodded seriously, “It’s important to me, we’re friends.” He looked over as cheers went up in the corner but didn’t seem to interested, “Hey, remember at the beginning of the school year when you played that detective?”
Sherlock nodded, “It was surprisingly fun.” At least, it was when reflecting on it. Particularly the trench coat the teacher had given him to allow him to get more into his role. When no one was looking he enjoyed turning sharply and feeling it flutter.
“Well, how about when you added those lines, about deducing and all. Can you do that again?” Jason asked, leaning forward. “It was cool and I wanna see Jeremy go red in the face.”
“I was playing a role,” Sherlock said, frowning, “The facts were already there in the dialogue.”
But Jason didn’t seem to hear, “Come on, I’m pretty sure he found himself a girlfriend. Deduce him into telling us.”
Sherlock sighed, but nodded. He owed Jason a lot and seemed to always give in to what he wanted. Besides, everyone here was drunk so if he made a fool of himself no one would remember.
Despite his self-assurances, as they headed over Sherlock felt the sinking dread again. Jason said something and everyone laughed and then they were all staring at Sherlock. A shudder went through him and panicked eyes searched out Jason, but Jason was smiling and nodded, “Come on Sherlock, said you had a trick you wanted to show us.”
It was time and he had to act and so he shoved away his emotion, drew upon the overconfident detective he played in theater class and smirked. “Well, I would need a volunteer. Jeremy? How kind of you to offer.” Laughter as Jeremy pointed at himself in surprise. “I see that you’re wearing a new watch.”
Jeremy smiled and looked at it fondly, fiddling with it a little, “It was a gift.”
“From a female, but not from family. Look at the shape, the decoration. Too fancy for family and too expensive to be from just a friend.” Sherlock said, hand sweeping in a over the top gesture. “And what about your shirt?”
“My shirt?” Jeremy asked, everyone else was silently watching, head swerving between Sherlock and everything he pointed out.
“No stains! New. Trying to impress someone then, or perhaps look better for someone?” Sherlock said, a knowing tone in his voice. Inside, he trembled. “You can make it easy on yourself, just confess.”
“Confess?” Jeremy blushed, “I mean, I was going to tell you guys.”
Sherlock lost the flow of conversation as he allowed the others to step forward and pester Jeremy. Jason gave him a thumbs up. Sherlock nodded and stayed in the back of the pack just listening. He could have done better, there were better clues to have drawn on.
Perhaps that was the key. His research showed an appearance of confidence prevented questions while overwhelming people put them on the defensive. Feelings were misleading and pointless, easily manipulated as he was doing even now. Hadn’t he quieted and controlled a mob of drunk college students, small though it was?
He could do this. No one had to know oh his fear.
--
In the years to come, Sherlock learned to cultivate a personality and reputation that would scare others off. That would allow him to interact as he needed so no one would ever guess of the ball of emotion he couldn’t control.
Shortly after the protected atmosphere of university it got to be too much. When things got overwhelming, Sherlock turned to drugs. And when his brother and strangers looked down upon him, sneering about boredom kept his secret safe.
End.
Rating: Any
Summary: Prompt: "High social anxiety is ruining my life. Whatever, I just want to see character dealing with this disorder." I can't say this fic met her desires, but I do kinda like it. Also, it's my longest kink meme fic.
"He always was a freak and always will be," Donovan muttered.
Sherlock watched Donovan turn away, face straight and unemotional. It was on the tip of his tongue to argue, to tell her she was wrong - but anything besides the insults and quips were outside his comfort zone with her. No matter how much he desired to snap at her for her rudeness, he never would.
Donovan would laugh if she knew the truth.
He had spent years crafting who he was, creating the rules that allow him to so fearlessly control any space he was in.
As a child, there hadn’t been an issue. He’d been normal enough - quiet, enjoyed running, disinterested in school, fascinated by mysteries. Abstractly he had realized he was smarter than everyone else, but what did that matter when there were trees to explore, space pirates to catch, and books to read. He wasn't one for people, but it wasn't that people didn't like him. He had a best friend in school. Occasionally they'd get together on the weekends to terrorize pigeons.
When his friend had moved away, Sherlock never found himself getting a new one. It didn't matter too much, he had just discovered chemistry and it really was very easy to make explosions.
Then one day he found himself at university, standing in his single and trying to work up the courage to step outside and interact with other freshman. It wasn't that he was scared or anything, but he didn't know what to say. How to act. As he looked over the past couple years, trying to figure out what to do he realized he had no idea. He hadn't ever really interacted with people. He was at home most the time, snarling at his brother or playing with his chemistry set. At school he ate alone while reading mystery novels and in class he sat in the middle of the classroom, turned in his homework on time, and was ignored by teachers as much as he ignored them.
Grabbing his courage, he opened his door and walked until he found a bench. Promptly sitting, he watched people passing. Tried to imagine talking to them - or at least, he tried to until someone made eye contact and then Sherlock's eyes darted away and he made out like he was waiting for someone. Only ten minutes later he stood and walked off, unable to sit there any longer. He tried to familiarize himself with the campus and when no one was looking at him, he'd look at them.
That night, he turned off his lights and pretended he wasn't in when other freshman knocked on his door. He could hear them laughing and introducing themselves. Sherlock tried to imagine himself among them and couldn't.
--
The pattern continued long enough to become a part of his schedule. Class was easy and took no effort, and he found himself watching the professor and analyzing rather than listening to lecture. As winter started to thaw out, Sherlock found himself angry and frustrated. He had yet to talk to a single person except for a couple mumbled greeting in the hall outside his room which didn't count.
He didn't know what to do about it, but it was on the forefront of his thoughts when a student was forced to sit next to him in a full lecture. The professor was late and Sherlock sat still in his seat, overly aware of the lack of space, tucking his arm against his side to avoid contact and shuffling his feet in an attempt to find more space.
"I hate it when they're running late. So annoying, right?"
It took Sherlock a couple seconds too long to realize the student was talking to him. "Ah, right." He said, trying to look without looking at the student and failing miserably. The student was male and had some bulk, but not from sports or working out. Likely, he often had to deal with being mistaken as a bully. He didn’t seem to mind Sherlock’s attempt to study him.
"I'm Jason." Jason said, angling his body towards Sherlock and letting him see an easy going smile. The shifting gave Sherlock slightly more space and allowed him to breath again.
Sherlock tried to smile, "Sherlock."
"So, what do you think of the class so far? I know it's only the second class - and hey, you look kinda familiar, I think we had a class together last semester or something." Jason smiled, and Sherlock wondered how he was supposed to respond to the chatter.
"Huh, maybe?" Sherlock had been too afraid to look at the other people in his classes. "The class isn't bad but the professor-"
Anything more he had to say would have to wait as the professor arrived and began lecture. At the end, Sherlock tried to figure out what he was supposed to say when Jason smiled again and said later, walking out.
Sherlock thought the conversation a fluke, congratulating himself on not making a fool of himself, and was completely unprepared when Jason sat next to him again. He didn't say anything, pulling out pens and paper for notes and Sherlock found himself trying to talk.
"Hey," he finally got out. He didn't know what to follow it with.
Jason laughed, "Hey, you're here early today."
"I'm always early." It was true, Sherlock always arrived at least ten minutes early. "But you are early today." At least, compared to last time where he arrived a minute before class was to begin. Sherlock couldn’t say if it was normal behavior but Jason hadn’t seemed bothered by.
"Yup, figured we might actually get in a conversation this time." Jason grinned and Sherlock felt his stomach drop, what had they had last time if not a conversation? If that had been his intention, why hadn’t Jason talked first? What was he supposed to do?
"It'd probably be easier if we had it outside of class." Sherlock said, then froze, what was he saying?
Jason didn't seem to mind, nodding, "True, are you busy after class? You could come to my place and we can study for the first test - I can't believe the professor has already assigned a test!"
“A crueler thing can’t be imagined.” Sherlock said, unable to believe himself. But Jason was laughing again and Sherlock felt a little braver, “But yes, this is my last class of the day.”
“Awesome.”
--
Sherlock wouldn’t say Jason saved his life, but he made it a great deal easier. Through Jason, Sherlock found a social life and people he might say he almost knew. He still didn’t talk to anyone without prompting or Jason there to smooth things over, but people smiled when he walked in.
Sherlock and Jason decided to live together for their second year, Jason had suggested it, “Dude, you’re quiet and smart and clean - why wouldn’t I want you for a roomie?” and Sherlock had quickly agreed. When Jason had suggested they take a theater class together, “Easy A man,” Sherlock had reluctantly agreed.
The class was as terrible as Sherlock expected. Having to stand in front of everyone and act. Two weeks in, after the first full class performance, Jason laughed. Sherlock was sweating and flustered and still trying to recover from being on stage when Jason turned to him, “You were amazing! Standing up there, imposing and growling and getting your lines perfect. You play a terrifying detective.”
That was the first time Sherlock learned his feelings were lying to him.
A man of science, Sherlock decided to experiment. He’d take a taxi 15 minutes out where no one knew him, where no one would remember him, and he would try talking to strangers. He would be polite to one, acting lost, and to another he would sneer and walk on. Others he would interrupt a conversation to help or run up asking nonsense questions. He would pretend authority or act as a terrified father.
Or at least, that was the plan. The first three times he got out of the taxi and froze. He would attempt his plan and terror would stiffen his limbs. But no matter his feelings on the matter, his determination was stronger.
His first successful interaction was by accident. He watched the taxi drive off and took a slow breath. Turning abruptly he tried to walk off only to run directly into an older gentleman.
The man frowned, hand coming up to berate and Sherlock snarled first, “Truly what is wrong with your eyes old man?” and continued on leaving the man spluttering behind him.
His hands trembled when he went to brush aside his hair and he checked rude off his mental checklist. Rather than trying again, he found himself a café and took a window table.
The terror sat deep inside him at every encounter, shivering and crippling and ruining some of his attempts. But slowly he began to succeed more than he failed and after awhile, when he become more comfortable, or perhaps simply more used to, addressing strangers he realized how clueless they all were. His terror never translated, his worry, his fear - all people saw was what he let them see. Yet no matter what he told himself, he couldn’t carry on the act with anyone he knew.
The problem, he quickly found, was with his feelings. After his experiments, it was obvious he was the only one aware of his fear. It was ridiculous. Further experiments, and a great deal of common sense, revealed that it didn’t matter what he did, there was no repercussions. So his fear was pointless. And if he could not trust his emotions, than he had to rely on logic.
The next stage of his experiment was harder. Rather than trying to overcome his fear, rather than trying to control his emotions Sherlock would dismiss them. Logic would control the next stage. He was moving the location to his classroom. Much like he met Jason originally, he found himself intentionally sitting next to people before class and greeting them. The social situation dictated a response but conversation would be short due to the beginning of class. He would categorize how they responded and provide a response in turn and study their reaction.
His findings surprised him. People were boring. They acted the same, followed the same script. He was able to easily carry out a conversation. He took his findings out to his bench and studied people again. Watching them smile and greet and talk. Watching the same conversation over and over with different voices and words but the same material.
He took his findings and applied it to one of Jason’s friends. One Sherlock saw occasionally.
“Hello Rick,” Sherlock said as Rick walked in, airing his shirt. Not from the gym but his afternoon run likely.
Rick’s eyebrow went up, “Hey Sherlock.”
“How’s it been?” Sherlock had originally planned to ask ‘how was your day’, but figured it might be too intimate. He had overheard two male friends using ‘how’s it been’ yesterday while he was observing interactions. It seemed appropriate.
Rick shrugged, “You know, busy what with mid-terms right around the corner. Actually, that’s why I’m here. Seen Jason or Michael? We’re meeting to study for our bio class.”
“Ah, I believe he went to get snacks. He had been looking around the kitchenette and rushed out - you just missed him.” Sherlock answered calmly, focusing on his breathing and pulse. Rick did not appear to be having any trouble or notice anything off, so Sherlock figured he was responding correctly.
“That’s cool. It is his turn to provide them. I guess that means Michael isn’t here yet.” Rick said as he sat in the chair across from Sherlock, falling immediately into a slouch.
Sherlock found it curious. These useless statements made just to carry on the flow of conversation. It was as pointless as his fear, but something much more easy to master. “No, no he isn’t. What time are you guys supposed to be meeting?” At 3, Sherlock knew because Jason had started panicking at 2:30 and darted out at 2:37. It takes 4 minutes to reach the closest store but at this time of day it would be crowded with students just out of class. Rick had arrived at 2:54, early but not unreasonable - especially as Rick had a habit of always arriving at least 5 minutes early. Michael was often late by 3 minutes, not enough for people to comment on.
“Three. I’m just a little early. Nothing to do at home so I might as well be here, right?” Rick laughed.
Sherlock forced himself to chuckle. He found it eased his terror a little to appear to be fitting in. As the laughs stopped, Sherlock took a slow breath, the next step. “Do you need anything? A drink?”
“Nah, I’m good. I should probably get a little reading in, let you get back to your own.” Rick shrugged, “Besides, it shouldn’t take them too long to get here. I can wait.”
Sherlock nodded, and glanced back down at his book. His eyes refused to focus on the words and he could feel the sweat dripping down his back. He had to focus on his breathing to prevent panting. He had survived his first attempt, something much more difficult that dealing with strangers ever could be, but found the overall event distasteful. A waste of time.
--
He continued to keep the façade of friendship with Rick. They chatted when he came over usually, once Rick had called out when Sherlock had passed him at a café. Sherlock found it tiring and troublesome, but rewarding. Rick was the first person he actually initiated conversation with continuously outside of Jason.
It bolstered his belief that his feelings just got in the way. Next time he was in the library, he posed a challenge for himself. Rather than just finding the book he required by himself, as usual, he forced himself to ask the librarian. He reassured himself multiple times before and during the event - it’s her job and the worse that happens is she can’t help were the two most common things running through his head. She found his book in twice the time it would have taken him but had a smile for him.
Sherlock decided his experiment was complete.
Later that night, Jason had a small get-together. It was too quiet to be a party but Sherlock found it almost overwhelming. He was nursing a beer, trying to fit in, when Jason collapsed into the chair next to him.
“I was a bit worried you know?” Jason said, a slight slurring suggesting it was not his first bottle. “You’re a great guy, but so quiet. I was worried for you. But now you’re friends with Rick too and it makes me happy to know you’re okay.”
Sherlock looked over, trying to figure out how to respond. This was not covered by his research.
Jason smiled, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Yes, you’ve said that.” Sherlock said.
Jason nodded seriously, “It’s important to me, we’re friends.” He looked over as cheers went up in the corner but didn’t seem to interested, “Hey, remember at the beginning of the school year when you played that detective?”
Sherlock nodded, “It was surprisingly fun.” At least, it was when reflecting on it. Particularly the trench coat the teacher had given him to allow him to get more into his role. When no one was looking he enjoyed turning sharply and feeling it flutter.
“Well, how about when you added those lines, about deducing and all. Can you do that again?” Jason asked, leaning forward. “It was cool and I wanna see Jeremy go red in the face.”
“I was playing a role,” Sherlock said, frowning, “The facts were already there in the dialogue.”
But Jason didn’t seem to hear, “Come on, I’m pretty sure he found himself a girlfriend. Deduce him into telling us.”
Sherlock sighed, but nodded. He owed Jason a lot and seemed to always give in to what he wanted. Besides, everyone here was drunk so if he made a fool of himself no one would remember.
Despite his self-assurances, as they headed over Sherlock felt the sinking dread again. Jason said something and everyone laughed and then they were all staring at Sherlock. A shudder went through him and panicked eyes searched out Jason, but Jason was smiling and nodded, “Come on Sherlock, said you had a trick you wanted to show us.”
It was time and he had to act and so he shoved away his emotion, drew upon the overconfident detective he played in theater class and smirked. “Well, I would need a volunteer. Jeremy? How kind of you to offer.” Laughter as Jeremy pointed at himself in surprise. “I see that you’re wearing a new watch.”
Jeremy smiled and looked at it fondly, fiddling with it a little, “It was a gift.”
“From a female, but not from family. Look at the shape, the decoration. Too fancy for family and too expensive to be from just a friend.” Sherlock said, hand sweeping in a over the top gesture. “And what about your shirt?”
“My shirt?” Jeremy asked, everyone else was silently watching, head swerving between Sherlock and everything he pointed out.
“No stains! New. Trying to impress someone then, or perhaps look better for someone?” Sherlock said, a knowing tone in his voice. Inside, he trembled. “You can make it easy on yourself, just confess.”
“Confess?” Jeremy blushed, “I mean, I was going to tell you guys.”
Sherlock lost the flow of conversation as he allowed the others to step forward and pester Jeremy. Jason gave him a thumbs up. Sherlock nodded and stayed in the back of the pack just listening. He could have done better, there were better clues to have drawn on.
Perhaps that was the key. His research showed an appearance of confidence prevented questions while overwhelming people put them on the defensive. Feelings were misleading and pointless, easily manipulated as he was doing even now. Hadn’t he quieted and controlled a mob of drunk college students, small though it was?
He could do this. No one had to know oh his fear.
--
In the years to come, Sherlock learned to cultivate a personality and reputation that would scare others off. That would allow him to interact as he needed so no one would ever guess of the ball of emotion he couldn’t control.
Shortly after the protected atmosphere of university it got to be too much. When things got overwhelming, Sherlock turned to drugs. And when his brother and strangers looked down upon him, sneering about boredom kept his secret safe.
End.