I stared blankly at Mrs Hudson, who then muttered something about 'having to wash the dishes' and 'sort the dorms washing out.'

"Mrs Hudson." I managed to spit out, my heart nearly rising through my mouth. "What has Sherlock 'not told me'?" Every thought of something bad raced through me at rocket speed. I mean, Sherlock has probably thought that this little piece of information about him doesn't matter at all. He clearly thinks that it is something that I don't need to know of, for the fact it's either 'pointless information' or that it wouldn't bother me at all.

"I trust that he doesn't mind you knowing, dear. It's not often that he has somebody close to him in his life." It felt as if she was trying to dodge her way around the situation and glaze it with sugar. "Please, for Gods sake, just tell me." I closed my eyes and felt my voice break slightly, I shook it away and stared back at Mrs Hudson; whom was now blinking more at than the average pace and licking her lips uneasily. "A few years ago, Sherlock had a hard time." She breathed slowly. "He was bored, and academically much more excelled than the rest of the pupils here. He started off smoking, Mycroft detested it and Sherlock just denied it." She sighed and rubbed her eyes, the purple eye shadow smudged slightly across her skin; giving her a warmer yet more hollow appearance. "The more he got bored, the more he smoked, the more he experimented. Mycroft grew more and more concerned, but..." she sighed again "I managed to convince him that it was just a stage, and that teenagers do try out these things." I could almost sense where this is going, the other evening when we played truth or dare, Sherlock mentioned- "Heroin." Mrs Hudson took the word straight from my mind, my heart almost stopped when I saw her eyes water. She wiped away the water that was forming and laughed as she whispered "Oh dear lord...I remember collecting his washing and just seeing his frail, pale body just perched in the bathroom. His skin was bruised, it was so, so inhumane. He still denied what he had done, and tried to speak but made no sense. I stood in disbelief, and felt guilty. I let that happen, I convinced Mycroft that it was just a phase." My mouth went dry. "Mycroft sent him to rehab. We found out that he was being bullied as well as being bored, but even today he will deny that the bullies beat him over." I leaned back into my seat, not knowing what to say or do.

We sat in silence for some time until I looked at the clock. "Oh..." My voice was unnaturally coarse as I spoke. "I..best..get back...room." As I stood, my legs wobbled and I fell back into the chair with a grunt. "Fu-Damn my leg." I knew that swearing in front of Mrs Hudson would be no problem to her, but even in an obscene amount of pain I respected her. She stood and coughed slightly, clearing her throat before speaking. "Are you alright, dear? Shall I go and fetch some help?" I was about to say 'No' and that 'I'm fine', but I silencing nodded my head in agreement and Mrs Hudson steadied herself out of the front door.

I lost track of how long it took for Mrs Hudson to reach help, I raised my head from my arms when I heard the door open. "Watson, how are you doing?" Mike tried to rush himself across the room, noticing my face, but waited patiently for a few moments to prop the door open for Mrs Hudson. "Fine." My voice was coarse, but I coughed once and my tone returned to its normal tone. "Yeah, fine." "Good, c'mere you." He rasied a hand and I took it thankfully, leaning over his shoulders on my tip toes. "Thanks, madam." I smiled at Mrs Hudson who removed her hands from covering her mouth in almost shock for seeing me like this. "John, it's okay. I've always said that I'm here." She smiled. "Do you mind doing something for me?" I winced slightly whilst readjusting myself over my friend. "Of course!" "Can you arrange a visit to my family for this weekend? I don't want to bother you, or anything. But I will have a busy few days ahead and I'm not sure if I can do that." "Of course! Now off you pop, I'll see you soon."

Stamford and I chatted about football and cricket as we slowly made our way back to our rooms, his was before mine; so I told him that I can carry on without him.

"You sure?" he asked, I could see he was itching to grab his kit bag from his room to start football practice. "Yeah, cheers. See you soon mate." I smiled and he gave an uneasy nod in return.

Walking back to my room, I noticed that one of the fresh laundry rooms was left open. People often hide in there for a laugh, but I noticed this time the light was on. It was still day, and I knew that classes were still on, so no one should be in there. I huffed and looked up and down the corridor, checking for other people, nobody. Okay. I curled my hand around the door's side and pulled it open. "Hello?" I asked, then remembering that Sherlock and I needed fresh bed sheets, so I walked up to one of the overflowing cupboards and pulled out two of the fresh looking sheets and turned to leave when I saw something move around the corner of the room. "Hello?" I asked again, clutching so hard onto the cloth that my knuckles had turned an unearthly pale white and scarlet.

Whilst walking slowly, I turned whilst looking down on the floor, I saw a pair of shoes just touching the floor; by tiptoes. I looked up and saw the standard issued school trousers, torn and ripped, pale skin against black polyester. Beside them two lifeless hands, pale, slightly bruised but inked by biro pen tattoos. I saw the shirt, half tucked in and half hanging out, and the school tie that was half undone. And finally a face, hanging loosely from a rope, I could see the youth slowly fade. Tufts of hair were sticking up, and the body was slowly spinning, revealing all the damage.

I backed up and tripped on a basket on the floor. In shock, I went to shout, but stalled on my words. I swallowed, my throat dry, and I blinked hard. Backing myself up to the counter, I reached for my phone and hastily rang up Sherlock.

"John, I'm in class. Can this wait?"

I stayed silent, not lifting my eyes from the body.

"John, what is it?"

I made a noise like what a baby would make.

"Where are you?"
I heard a teacher in the background say something like 'Mr Holmes where are you goi-' and then Sherlock saying "Here is my work, completed."

"Where are you?"
He asked again, I hadn't noticed my blurred vision.

"Laundry room." I coughed, the phone went down.