A/n - this is the last request! I've finished! Yay me! Christmas next... 😅
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All you could hear during your pitiful chemistry lecture were melancholy ticks as the clock hands went round at half speed and fuzzy drones coming from the professor, Mr Harrison. He was saying something about carboxylic acids but you really didn't care... Benzene rings, aliphatic compounds, geometric isomerism, photolysis... Blah, blah, blah... The only thing you could find to entertain yourself was watching the back of Sherlock's head. The two of you had been at school together all your lives and university was no different. Sherlock was sat two seats in front of you, his body leaning forward on the desk, his stick-like legs slipping off the plump heather cushion. You couldn't see, but his eyelids were constantly fluttering open and closed daintily like a moths wings and his mouth hung open ever so slightly so that his pink lips were moistened by his lethargic breaths. You giggled childishly as you saw his head slip from its resting position on his hands and hit the table. He was clearly very sleep deprived and bored.
"Hey, (Y/n) is laughing at you, you know."
A tall boy sat next to Sherlock whispered. The boy was dressed shabbily smart in a suit that was clearly too big for him despite having a seemingly muscular frame. It was Nathan. Nathan was a bully...
"So?" Sherlock commented back, unphased. "It is completely acceptable for friends to find humour in each other's misfortunes". He stated as he rubbed his forehead where it had flushed slightly red from its unplanned contact with the desk.
Sherlock turned around to look at you and smiled goofily which only made you laugh more, producing a snorting sound with your nose which echoed embarrassingly along the leather and oak pews of the collectively spiritless lecture hall. Mr Harrison was not amused
"Miss (y/l/n), you are clearly not paying attention. If you cannot tell me the name of this compound, could you please excuse yourself?" Mr Harrison barked from his desk like some kind of animalistic mutant. He drew a rather complex looking molecule on the blackboard with benzene rings, an ether functional group and many other things you didn't even recognise.
"2-ethyl-2-methylbutanoic acid?" You guessed
"Not even close... Get out"
"Sorry sir..."
You muttered, collecting your textbooks and side-stepping your way out past sharp, judgemental knees.
As you left, Nathan turned back to Sherlock:

"I heard her call you a freak you know"

Sherlock's joints ceased and the pen,which he had begun methodically tap on the desk, fell from his frail fingers and landed with a soft patter on the floor.
"You're lying"
"Come on mate, would your old pal Nathan make up something like that?"
He made a disturbingly false mask of innocence, clearly he was lying but Sherlock was too busy fighting the word 'freak' which was now barrelling round in his head, that he couldn't tell. Without even bothering to collect his textbooks, Sherlock darted upright and spluttered
"May I be excused sir, I suddenly feel not myself, I think may be ill"
Before Mr Harrison could even answer, he was pelting off towards the door, leaping over students and knocking pieces of paper flying into the air. They gracefully fluttered back to earth, coming to land mere feet from the professor's desk. He slammed the wooden and glass door behind him as he left, sending painful vibrations down his arms and back. He leaned against the wall panting and fighting gallantly to stop tears from forming in the corners of his fox-like eyes.
"Oh hey Sherlock!" You called bouncily as you eyed him from the end of the corridor, you bounded over, not sensing his obvious feeling of betrayal and disgust. "Couldn't stay awake could you?" You giggled as you approached him. Silence.
"Sherlock?" You paused "Sherlock you ok?"
He couldn't even look at you, he was floating between a shore of feeling upset and an ocean of anger and slowly, the tide dragged him out into the storm.
"Oh I'm fine." He spat "good enough for a freak anyway!" His voice cracked as he swallowed down the steel lump which had formed in his throat. He was wrestling back tears now, not baring to let himself be seen crying by you.
"Woah, OK? Where did this come from?"
"Don't be ignorant (y/n)" he muttered
"Excuse me? I haven't done anything!"
Sherlock ground his teeth together like metal on metal, you half expected orange-hot sparks to explode from his lips in fury.
"I'm not going to stand here to let you insult my intelligence. I know you called me a freak, Nathan told me."
Without even letting you reply, Sherlock shrugged his bag roughly onto his shoulder (as it had slipped down in his rage) and marched off down the corridor to his residence hall before locking himself in his room.
You were left alone and absolutely flabbergasted in the empty hallway. Your eyebrows were furrowed with confusion and you could hear your heart beating in your brain, startled from Sherlock's outburst of emotion -a rare occurrence-.
"What the hell was that about?..."

Two weeks passes by in what felt like a year. You and Sherlock still weren't talking. As the glittering golds and oranges and Browns of the autumnal leaves began to adorn the paths of the university, you felt yourself enshrouded by an immense loneliness. It was like losing Sherlock lost a part of yourself. Unbeknownst to you, Sherlock felt exactly the same way. Only ten times worse... As he paced back and forth across the plush carpet of his dorm, he abused his brain; wracking his thoughts helplessly, searching for an answer or anything which might give him a glimmer of hope on what to do. No luck... He hadn't, however, left his room in several days so felt obliged to show his face to society in fear of the professors suspecting an overdose again. He took a deep breath and pushed open his door. It creaked pathetically as it opened, revealing a pathway to social interaction, friends and conversations; three things that Sherlock had convinced himself were needless these last few days. He stepped out into the tense air and closed the door behind him.
As his dainty, porcelain fingers twisted the bronzed key in the lock, he heard your voice from a few meters away. It was sharp and sweet and clear like warm honey being poured over his face.
"Sherlock?... I've... Not seen you in weeks."
His hands became sweaty as he faced you, not knowing exactly what to say. His block of silence and a blank stare clearly did not amuse you so you sighed and forcefully turned away, threatening to leave again. Sherlock's pathetic cry stopped you, however.
"WAIT!..............................please?..."
You froze.
"Look, (y/n), I'm sorry. I shouldn't have listened to Nathan... He's an idiot, honestly I have no idea why the university allowed such a buffoon to study chemistry... Anyway, I digress...It's just that word he used... F-fre.. F-f-fr... Frea- k" His own throat prevented him from even speaking the word, it seemed to clench shut every time he tried like a rope was being constricted around his trachea.
"It's ok Sherlock. You don't have to say it. You aren't one anyway..."
Sherlock's pale face morphed into the most sincere smile you had ever seen him display. There was a warmth and clarity to it like nothing you had ever seen before. It was like he was providing you with a film of transparency into his soul, letting you in where nobody else could ever possibly think about going.
"Friends?"
Sherlock suggested nervously as he scanned your face, not knowing if he had proceeded too fast without a substantial enough apology.
"We never weren't" you replied reassuringly as you opened your arms to him, offering an embrace. You felt truly honoured to hug Sherlock, knowing that the only other person he would actually accept a hug from was Mycroft. He wouldn't even hug his parents, he would simply present them with an honorary kiss on the cheek.
"Oh, hey freak!" You heard a sarcastic thick, Irish voice echo from behind you. Another bully, a friend of Nathan's... I say friend, he was more of Nathan's boss, a controlling psychopathic beast... You looked up at Sherlock, willing him to do what he had to do for his own sanity. He turned on his heel to face the suited student.
"Hello Jim. Finished your psychology lecture early I see?"

"Shut up freak! What were you doing there? Hugging? That your girlfriend is it? That little bitch from chemistry?"

Sherlock was seething internally, you could sense it...

"I'd stop now Jim. Before you do something you'll regret."

"Regret? I have no regrets... It's one of the many joys of being a psychopath" he smiled psychotically.
"So freak, whatcha gonna do?"

Sherlock inhaled deeply, preparing himself.

"Say. That. Again."

"What?... Freak?"

"Again."

"Freak!"

"Once more..."

"YOU ARE A FREAK SHERLOCK!"

With that, Sherlock managed to snap himself mentally, he took a few swift steps over in Jim's direction and swung a punch which cracked him straight in the side of his pale, grinning jaw. He staggered back, clutching his mouth as blood poured from his lips.
"This is a WESTWOOD SUIT!" He screamed girlishly as he backed off, trying to inhibit the bleeding.
"I swear on my life, Sherlock Holmes, you have not seen the last of me!" And with that, he sprinted off down the corridor.

"I honestly didn't expect that from you Holmes" you stated, chuckling slightly under your breath. You handed him a tissue so that he could wipe the splatters of crimson off his hands and discreetly clear the floor of the spots which had created a kind of twisted masterpiece.
"Yeah, well... Nobody calls you a bitch and gets away with it. You're my only friend and, if you don't mind, I'd quite like it to stay that way"
"I'd like that too Sherlock, very much"
You smiled at each other and walked off down the corridor, fingers interlocked and warm... slightly sticky with blood.

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A/n - sorry if this is nothing like you wanted, I found it hard to interpret the request. I've finished it anyway...

(Also I've lost like 10 followers but who cares right! 😅👌🏻 *whips in defeat*)