The Stars Are Brighter Than You Are @wofboi
1 Hi! Welcome to The Stars Are Brighter Than You Are! This is my first ever published fanfiction (I think)! This is a teen!Johnlock born-in-America AU. Overall trigger warnings: swearing, bullying, depression, drugs, suicide, suicidal thoughts, homophobia, racism, character death, stereotypes I really hope you love this work! I'm going to try to keep it going as long as I possibly can! (This work is inspired by Juxtaposition by clueda on Ao3) This work will be on Ao3, Wattpad, and Tumblr as well.

It was because of the consequences of his own actions that Sherlock Holmes was finding it hard to breathe. Sherlock Holmes was, embarrassingly, stuck in the back of a stuffy classroom because he’d made a rude deduction about the principal’s… intimate relationship with both the secretary and the vice-principal. In Sherlock’s mind, the principal, as well as the secretary and vice-principal, deserved it—he took Anderson’s side instead of his after they’d gotten into a fight about Anderson’s father’s affair and, even though Sherlock could understand the temptation, he still had the bruise on his cheek from where Anderson punched him.

Philip Anderson had been Sherlock’s bully for his whole life—Sherlock’s older brother, Mycroft, and Anderson’s parents had interacted more than once, being a part of the government and all. Sherlock had been raised by his brother—and Mrs. Hudson, a family friend that lived with the both of them—ever since his parents had died.

Of course, Mycroft knew about the bullying but left the matter to Sherlock, saying it was “boring of him to give up so quickly.” And of course, Mycroft had said this with good intentions, but it only led to Sherlock feeling worse about it.

Anderson’s parents didn’t much care.

The school didn’t either.


The classroom for detention goers was small and full of useless anti-bullying posters that didn’t actually do anything about bullying except make the school a more ironic place to bully someone.

Sherlock wondered where he went wrong. It’d been hard, losing his parents to that fire, then moving to damn America, where healthcare wasn’t as free as it was in Canada. Of course, he would have never admitted that- he had to keep up appearances. He was a heartless freak, no hesitation needed. Until Molly. She’d been at Sherlock’s side since he’d first started going to this damn school.

Sherlock wondered how Molly was doing at this moment, in dull classes with boring teachers and unexciting subjects.

He’d always been a smart child. Other people said it was a blessing, his intelligence. He said it was a curse.

A few minutes went by, after Sherlock Holmes, the Great and Annoying, as deemed by Anderson, started slipping into his own thoughts. Drowning in his mind palace.

Sherlock heard a rather stern lecturing down the hall, jarring him out of the jail cell that is, occasionally, his brain. Stomping down the hall- a teacher, very angry. Two boys, the same age as him (he could tell by the pitch and heaviness of the footsteps), following the teacher- Mr. Thomas, judging by the voice coming from the tiny, stiff body that was slamming its feet on the ground.

The door to the “Prison” swung open (many people called the detention room this, because of the way getting into detention worked: ya do something bad, ya get “sentenced”) and Mr. Thomas angrily stomped in with Mike Stamford and a boy Sherlock had never met before. The boy and Mike had probably been friends for a long time, considering how close they were walking next to each other.

Mr. Thomas stopped in front of two desks and pointed a fierce finger at them.

“Boys,” he said, sternly.

“Yes, Sir,” the unknown boy said, putting his hand up to his forehead like a soldier, demanding a laugh from Mike.

Mr. Thomas huffed angrily.

“Sit. Down.”

"Sir, yes, Sir," said the boy, letting his arm fall quickly and stiffly to his side. He and Mike sat down.

"You two will be in here until five o’clock, you understand me?"

"Yes, Sir," both the unknown boy and Mike replied dully, the joke long expired, having been made two times already.

Mr. Thomas narrowed his eyes.

“No misbehaving.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Mr. Thomas looked up and caught Sherlock’s eye— Sherlock had been staring. He stared back at Sherlock for a split second, and Sherlock thought he saw something in his eye. Was Mr.Thomas trying to tell him something? But then he looked away, confusing Sherlock even more.

“I’m going to go call your parents.”

Mr. Thomas left the room.


The mysterious boy immediately turned to Mike after Mr. Thomas left.


“I know—”

“The ‘Prison’?” John asked.

“Yes, that’s what we call it,” Mike replied.

John rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. Sherlock was trying to resist looking at John’s phone, trying to focus on his book, trying to be invisible all of the sudden.

John rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. Sherlock was trying to resist looking at John’s phone, trying to focus on his book, trying to be invisible all of the sudden.

“Hey, Sherlock!”

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