Little Sherlock sniffled and wiped his nose on the bedsheets as he laid on the bed in his brother's room. His older brother Mycroft had gone away to some special boarding school, leaving Sherlock all alone to deal with the rest of the world. A world that, much to Sherlock's confusion, didn't like him at all. His parents didn't seem to notice him, the staff didn't like him, and at his first day of school today the other children had been incredibly cruel to him. One of them even pushed him into a mud puddle.

Sherlock wanted Mycroft to come back, Mycroft was the only one who liked him. Mycroft would spend time with him, reading with him and sometimes even playing pirate with him if he was especially good. Without his older brother he felt very lonely, and he didn't know what to do. So here he stayed, lying on his brother's bed waiting for him to return. He knew he wouldn't, and in that way Sherlock felt like a lost puppy. Dogs waited for their masters even when it was certain they would never come back.

Before Mycroft had left, Sherlock had gone crying to him and asking why no one liked him. One of the maids had scolded Sherlock, calling him insufferable and shouting about how he always got in the way and was a brat who didn't know how to keep his mouth shut. Mycroft had told Sherlock to keep his chin up when those things happened, to put on a brave face, and that those people who said terrible things about him didn't matter.

He told Sherlock that there was someone important out in the world, someone waiting just for him. Sherlock didn't understand what his older brother meant by that, who was waiting? Would they be waiting a long time? Sherlock wondered if he'd meet this waiting person at school, from what he'd gathered, he hadn't.

Sherlock wondered if he'd ever find that important someone who didn't say mean things, he didn't want to make them wait too long.

"It's alright Sherlock, I'll clean you up. It's just a scrape," Mycroft told him gently as he cleaned Sherlock's bloody knees. He'd fallen and scraped his knees while running away from a group of boys at school who liked to bully him. Things had not gotten better for him at school, if anything, with age things only got worse. While the other boys became bigger and stronger, Sherlock stayed small and scrawny. That and his big mouth made him a prime target.

Sherlock hated school for that. He hated it because everyone hated him, even his teachers. Everyone else had people who liked them! In fact his peers had people who loved them, who adored and idolized them for every petty thing they did. Sherlock didn't understand how everyone could get boyfriends and girlfriends, and he couldn't even find any friend. He wanted to pour acid on the couples he saw kissing each other goodbye in the hallway. They hated him, and he had quickly grown to dispise them in return.

Of course Mycroft loved him. His brother was here to visit from University, Sherlock pretended he was not happy to see his brother, but secretly he was. His brother still liked him, no matter how many times Sherlock claimed to hate him. But Sherlock almost didn't want his love, Mycroft loved him because he was his brother. If they had been two completely unrelated people, Mycroft would probably hate him too. Sherlock wanted someone else to love him for himself. He hated these feelings, and wished they would go away. They cluttered his mind with garbage and made it difficult to get to the really important things. Did his someone who was waiting for him feel this way too?

Mycroft finished cleaning his knee, and brushed the pad of his thumb under bother of Sherlock's eyes, wiping his tears away and offering a gentle smile. Sherlock hadn't realized he was crying until his brother did that, and he was thankful when Mycroft didn't comment on it. Instead he put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

Sherlock wondered if his important someone would like him enough to just touch his shoulder in a friendly gesture.

Sherlock's mind was clouded, but not with useless emotions, which he was grateful for. No, his mind was only clouded with the intense need to shove a needle in his arm. However his brother wasn't going to let it happen, so he was left to beg and cry pathetically on the floor at his feet, as though that would make Mycroft change his mind. He didn't, and Sherlock continued to weep until he exhausted himself and just laid on the floor limply like an abandoned ragdoll.

Mycroft managed to help him up and over to the dingy couch in Sherlock's apartment. Mycroft sat with him, letting his younger brother's head rest in his lap. He stroked his messy curls wordlessly as Sherlock began falling asleep. He listened as his brother murmured something along the lines of "Dear God, please let him see the light soon." It never occured to Sherlock that he was in a dark place. He supposed it was the darkest hour of his life, his emotions and curiosity had driven him to poison himself.

He had felt so miserable and lonely, there had been no other option! The sweet nectars in those syringes made all those horrible feelings go away! Even as the world crashed around him, it hadn't felt so bad. Now he felt the full weight of it on him and he unconciously curled his fingers around his brother's hand for reassurance. Mycroft squeezed his hand back gently, and Sherlock felt slightly better for a brief moment. His brother still liked him even after having to be put through all this.

Sherlock decided he would have to find a different way to shut off his emotions. He wasn't going to find that someone else to like him besides Mycroft, so he needed something that wasn't a person. Someone neutral, that he could like and it couldn't dislike him back. He would have to find something, instead of someone. Perhaps he'd had it wrong all along anyway, his waiting someone was a personified thing and not an actual person.

Sherlock half heartedly hoped, for the sake of whoever his waiting someone was, that his new conclusion was the correct one.

Consulting detective, Sherlock liked the sound of his new job title. He'd made it up himself, so what wasn't there to like? And the best part was, he loved his new job! He loved it, and it couldn't dislike him back! Sure, there were people involved with his new job that didn't like him, but the job itself didn't hate him. Sherlock decided at that moment he would marry his work, and that was all he would need. He didn't even need Mycroft anymore! He just needed the work! His unrealized passion for deducing crimes was surely the someone who was waiting for him!

He soldiered on in his new life, at first he had almost failed in being a consulting detective. In fact the first few crime scenes he'd snuck on he'd been immediately thrown out of before he could utter a word. However he kept faith that he could do it, and one crime scene he got lucky. He managed to speak to the detective inspector before he was thrown out, and what he'd said in that brief confrontation had resulted in the case being solved by the next morning. Scotland Yard began tentatively letting Sherlock have a hand in their cases.

Now he was consulted by them frequenly. Not as frequently as he would have liked, but work was work. He loved his job so much he wanted to move closer to it, so he began searching for flats in central London. He encountered an old aquaitance of the family, Mrs. Hudson, and she agreed to lower the rent on her flat substantially. However it wasn't quite enough. Sherlock realized he would need to find someone to share with. His heart sank, he would once again have to begin searching for someone who didn't hate him.

He didn't think it would be possible, because he'd already found his important someone and they weren't a person.

John Watson limped into his life in a very dull fashion. In fact Sherlock wouldn't have noticed him at all if not for the fact he'd spoken up and offered him his phone to borrow. That encounter had been enough for Sherlock, no one had offered to let him use their phone before, not even Mycroft! Things only got better from there, when Sherlock told him they would share a flat John didn't reject him. He jus went along with it! He went along with the case too! He praised Sherlock, told him his deductions were fantasic and amazing! He even came along and saved him in the end.

Sherlock realized he had been wrong after all, the work wasn't his someone, his important someone had been a person all along. And as Sherlock laid on the couch watching crap telly with John dozing off beside him with the morning paper open in his lap, he couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. He'd certainly made John wait a long time, in fact he'd made John wait so long he'd had to come and find him instead!

It didn't matter what way it went to Sherlock, whether he found John or John found him. All that mattered was that he had him, he'd finally found him! His important somone, who loved him for who he was and never said mean things. Well, that wasn't entirely true, sometimes he did say mean things, but he never meant them. Sherlock found being called 'spectacularly ignorant' endearing when it came from John, although he would never admit that. John loved him, and that made Sherlock the happiest person in London.

He loved having John, and he didn't know what he'd be doing now if he was still alone. Would the work have remained enough to keep him satisfied? He shook his head, deciding not to think about it. Suddenly his phone chimed and he picked it up, scanning over the text. There was a case from Scotland Yard, from the looks of it a very easy one. He glanced over at John beside him snoring softly. He smiled and gave John a peck on the cheek before getting up and heading out the door. John could rest, he deserved it after all the running around he'd had to do yesterday. This case wouldn't take very long, Sherlock'd probably be back by dinner.

If not, he knew John was just a quick text away, and that he wouldn't have to wait very long for him ever again.

This fic is based on the song 'Someone's waiting for you' from The Rescuers. I was forced to remove the lyrics from this piece though because someone messaged me about a rule I've never heard of. Why am I the one always getting in trouble for this stuff? I swear I've seen hundreds of thousands of songfics on this website! Why aren't those people getting in trouble? It's because I'm a minor isn't it? How very irritatingly hostile of you -_-*

The story in its original entirety can still be found on my tumblr. .com You shouldn't have to go back more than a page or two to find it.

So about this story. Uh, the breaks are where each verse of the song would have been. And each bit of writing is based on that particular verse. Which is why it bugs me so much I got rid of that, because you practically don't get it unless the song lyrics are there. But anyway, in my weird little head the song would be told from Mycroft's POV. So yep, that's about all there is to it.

Please Review, I thrive on those. Of course if you want me to wither and die that's ok too, just don't review. I'll kinda be like that really pretty flower you bought and then forgot about on your windowsill after the first week or so. I'll just slowly die and be like 'Reviews! I... need... reviews!'. And then I'll be dead. Isn't that sweet? Ok I'm talking nonsense now.

Sherlock and The Rescuers don't belong to me, and for the record the song doesn't belong to Lea Salonga either so if you're going to send more messages about that at least get your facts straight! Thank you for taking the time to read this. Apology cookie anyone?