"No, no. You're not listening! Harry and I were minding our own business when that one," Sherlock sent the boy a glare just to be safe, "came over and started insulting us. I don't know what happened to his hair." A contemptuous glare was thrown at bald head in question. "Maybe something put in it should not be exposed to sunlight. Neither Harry nor I went anywhere near it."

"Is this true, Peter?" Mr. Sharper frowned.

Peter just glared mutinously at his trainers causing the principal to sigh.

"Harry?" He prompted. "Is that what happened?"

Sherlock held his breath.

Harry nodded, also not looking up from his trainers, and Sherlock relaxed. However, they weren't out of the woods yet as he noticed that both his mum and Mrs. Dursley had not lost their pinched expressions.

"Well, I think we're done here." Mummy finally said. "I'll be taking Sherlock home with me for the rest of the day. Mr. Sharper," she nodded. "Good day Mrs. Dursley, Mrs. Williams. Come along, Sherlock."

Mummy was still angry.


"You will not say a word against me or Harry. Do you understand?"

They were all three sitting outside the main office while the adults discussed what had happened. Harry was currently wondering if he was having an out of body experience. He felt a little blurry around the edges and heavy on the inside, as if something was trying to force him out of his body.

"What are you talking about, Holmes? You freaks burned off my hair! I'm going to make sure you're both expelled."

"Wrong. If you say anything that goes against what I tell them, I'll explain just how your grades have been rising lately. I'm sure both Principal Sharper and your mother would love to find out."

Harry could hear the conversation, but he was also hearing his heartbeat and his head was starting to feel funny. What was wrong with him? Was this the punishment for hurting someone else with his freakiness?

"You don't know nothing."

"Oh, really? What is the name of that girl who sits in front of you? Pepper? Pippa? Harry, you know her name, do you not?"

"Penny," he managed to force out.

"Oh, yes. That's right. Penny."

Peter scowled but mumbled a "fine."

When they were called in, Peter did as he was told, but Harry could tell that Aunt Petunia still knew it was his fault. She had him go to his room when they got home. He sat on his bed and continued to remember the moment Peter's head lit up. He had been so angry at the time, but he never meant to do anything like that.

I'm such a freak.


On Wednesday, Harry did not show up for class. The same thing happened on Thursday and then Friday.

That's when Sherlock asked Miss Jennings if she had heard anything from him.

"Sick again I'm afraid," was her stiff reply.

"Do you think he is alright?"

Her gaze sharpened, and her head tilted slightly, he observed.

"Are you worried about him too, Sherlock?"

Worried? Perhaps, although that sentiment was typically reserved for one of his brothers.

"He is missing a lot of work," he decided to answer.

"Yes, I've talked to Principal Sharper. He's supposed to check in with them today. Hopefully he'll be back on Monday and you can help him catch up.


Harry was currently waiting on his aunt to wake up and let him out for his morning bathroom break and his daily tin of soup. Harry hated it when the door was locked. So far he liked this bedroom better than his old cupboard, but the overwhelming confined feeling he got when locked in for several days was the same. The boredom was the worst. He could usually deal with the fire deep in his belly that came from hunger. It was actually a little helpful because it was easier to just not think with his head a little fuzzy.

Harry reminded himself that he deserved this. He had hurt someone, but he couldn't help but miss Sherlock as the days stretched on. Sherlock had tried to protect him. It was too bad Aunt Petunia had known better than to believe them.


For a reason Sherlock couldn't quite pinpoint, it was not until Harry walked through the door, and Sherlock felt himself relax back into his seat, that he realized he had been tense.

Harry looked tired; pale, darker shades under his eyes, and his posture even more terrible than usual. Something was wrong. Harry took his seat without looking at him even though Sherlock knew Harry could feel the weight of his gaze.

This level of agitation was unacceptable. Sherlock had been…concerned for Harry. He was still concerned, and Harry would not look at anything but his hands for the duration of class. Even during lunch, he barely looked up although Sherlock had placed his own apple in front of the boy to supplement Harry's half a peanut butter sandwich.

Sherlock had written to his brother just yesterday, and today cemented his decision to start inviting Harry to stay at his house. Harry's place seemed poisonous to him. This mysterious illness he contracted after getting in trouble at school would be counteracted by the food and exercise to be had at the Holmes's manor house. Plus, Sherlock was sure Mummy would love Harry. She had been hinting to Sherlock that she would like to see him with some friends for a while now.

Break was just as frustrating as the rest of the day. Harry was listless, and Sherlock decided that it was high time his sulking came to an end.

"Snap out of it! So the kid's hair fell out. He was hardly injured and he deserved it. Your ability to mope about is quite impressive, but hardly lucrative. Now, I want to play the hiding game where everyone runs around like lunatics and thinks crouching behind the slide constitutes being 'hidden.'" Bleh.

He had thought Harry would like that idea. He was trying to get Harry back to a state of normal, because by all that was holy there was no way Sherlock considered that kind of mindlessness fun. Instead all that occurred was Harry bursting into tears.


What did Mummy do when Sherlock was upset?

"It is alright." He hesitantly placed a hand on Harry's shoulder only to fall on his backside as Harry tackled him with a hug; which is how they spent the rest of break.

Oh, bother.