Solitary, miserable and misunderstood.

After walking at least 5 full days, through cold nights and bright sunny days, the creature could see fields changing into buildings. This must be it, this must be where people herd together, these so called cities. His feet so blistered and skin broken, he could actually feel his heart pulsing inside it with every new step.

Cars driving by were honking at him, why? What would it mean? Was it some kind of ritual? It must be. As he came closer and roads got more crowed, he understood this wasn't some place he belonged. They were saying strange things. "Nice cosplay." and "It's not Halloween yet, mate.". One woman had to pull her child away, crying, he had scared her. Of course, all he ever did was scaring people.

A group of people stopped, there were 4 of them. One asked whether they could touch his mask. The creature had started backing away, saying it wasn't a mask. The biggest of them had no difficulties keeping up with him. "Come on mate, don't be shy, just let us see how you did this." He said, his big hands trying to pull of what he thought was a mask. The creature screamed in pain and the man realised he had spoken the truth, he was not wearing a mask.

The 4 man had did the expected, they beat him. They told him he was a freak, a monster and he should go back to hell where he belonged. Rolled up in a heap on the pavement he could feel his body shaking. He was weak, hadn't ate something for days and now his whole body was bruising up. It had been a mistake coming here, a mistake to even think he could fit in here.

And then everything went black...

Living in the city, you kind of develop a fifth sense about this sort of things, especially if you are like John, always in troubles.

John had taken to long walks, they gave him time to think about Sherlock, about how he was happy with another guy, and not just any other guy.
He had always thought that if Sherlock would ever want somebody, then that person would have been him.
Clearly, it didn't happen.
He had gotten his heart broken in all possible ways and at the moment he didn't even want to see Sherlock.

When he saw the four blokes, drunk and high on adrenaline coming out of an alley, he knew something had happened.

He stared at them disapprovingly, before his gaze slipped inside the darkened street, and for a moment he did not see anything.

He walked inside though, and his heart clenched in his chest when he saw a shivering body curled up by the kerb.
He sped up.

"Hey mate, are you alright?" He asked, eyes wide and worried as he realized the state the man was in.

"Jesus Christ, what have they done to you?" He exclaimed, delicate hands moving over the scar on the stranger's head.

"Come on, I live near here... you'll be back on your feet in no time," he mumbled reassuringly, carrying him up and towards his place.

There was something wrong, and he was rather sure it had nothing to do with the four thugs. One thing was sure though, this guy needed help, and John was going to give it to him.

A cold chill ran through his body before he became aware of his surroundings. He felt cold in weird placed, his head for instance. As he moved, the pack of ice fell from his face and the creature jumped up, scared. "What is this?" he yelled out.

There was another person in the room, sitting next to bed he was lying in. Why was he in a bed? How did he came here? Who was this other person? "Who.. who are you?" the creature squeaked, crawling up, his back already against the wall. "Please do not hurt me, I mean no harm." he said, still panicking. What if this one was going to beat him up as well? He no longer wished to be threaten that way.

John jumped when he felt the man stir, his eyes widening at the panic in his voice. "It's just ice," he tried to say, but he was crawling away, scared, and John's eyes softened. "I am not going to hurt you... I promise," he said, his eyes moving on him.

"I found you unconscious, I brought you here and I took care of your wounds, you just need to rest for a few days..." He explained, hoping to calm him down. "I'm a doctor, I don't hurt people," he said with a tentative smile.

"He said that before, yet they still hurt me." The creature stammered, referring to the old man he once met. "A promise is nothing more then just words, unless you fulfill them." His breath was speeding up and he tried to look for a way out.

As the other person explained he took care of him, he calmed a little. "You.. Why would you do that?" he brought out hesitating, keeping his distance. "Does being a doctor mean you're not allowed to hurt?" Maybe this time it was different. But he had been betrayed before, he needed to be cautious, the human kind was hard to trust. All they ever did was breaking promises, so why would this time be different?

John looked at him surprised: "Indeed, and I would advice against trusting people in general, but a gentleman's promise is sacred, or at least it is for me," he muttered, staying still not to scare him further. "I do not expect you to believe me, but you have a choice, and I am offering my help..."

"Doctors are not supposed to hurt people, they are supposed to heal them, I cannot possibly talk for everyone, but it is what I do, that's why I brought you here, and why I bandaged your wounds..."
He frowned at the question: "You were hurt, I wanted to help, that's all I want..."

He stopped backing away, for the simple reason that he couldn't go further anymore. Half crawled up against the wall, the creature observed John closely. "Offering.. help?" He stammered, eyes getting lost in confusion. "No one offered me help before." He admitted.

His eyes lowered onto himself, white bandages basically covering his whole body. "Why would you help me?" He asked soft, still confused as his hand traced down one of the bandages. "What do you want in return?" Assuming these kind of people always needed something. He had learned by now that nothing in this world was free and anything had his price.

By now he had lowered back onto the bed, not completely, but at least he wasn't nearly climbing up the wall any more. A strange kind of warmth was radiating from the person's smile and the creature wasn't able to wrap his head around it. It might as well be a good disguise, he had seen things like that before. People didn't help him, unless it meant helping him to disappear.

John leaned back on his chair as he felt the other relax a bit, his eyes moving over the other man's body and face. "I believe you have good reason not to trust anyone, what they did to you was horrible," he muttered, eventually looking away.

The man was inquisitive, he was naive, he felt a lot like Sherlock and John didn't even hesitate to explain. "I don't want anything in return, I just want to make sure you are fine..." He muttered, and shrugged. "Maybe I do it because I am bored, because I am lonely, because you remind me of someone I loved, but one thing is sure, it's not because I want anything back, and it's not because I want to hurt you..."

He rubbed his forehead slowly. "I am sure someone has been kind to you before..." Or at least he hoped so.

"Are you hungry? I have some soup ready..."

"What they did to me is normal. At least they say. I do not belong here, this is not my place." He replied, still looking amazed at bandages around his middle.

His eyes fluttered up to meet John's as he start explained, his head slightly leaning to the left. With great interest he listened. "Nothing in return?" He muttered, having difficulties to believe that just yet. He then moved a bit forward, coming to the middle of the bed. "I am also lonely." He said, his eyes still fixed on John. "People don't want a monster like me as a friend." His eyes now lowered, sadness clearly visible.

"One person had been nice to me." He started, now fumbling at one of the bandages on his knee. "He was an old man. He could not see." He continued. "But he turned out to be nothing more then a liar." His shoulders shrugged up a little.

Then he looked up at John, barely believing the man was offering him something to eat. "I have not eaten for days. I am starving for anything other then grass or leaves." He had to admit, this person seemed different from what he'd known so far.

John frowned at the words, "That's not true! Of course you belong here, you are alive right? You are feeling things, right? You are just like everyone else..." He protested, clenching his jaw, what have they done to this poor man? He thought, unable to place such deep scars. "Some people give excuses to the bad they do, but there is no good excuse to hurt another living being," he said, and leaned just a bit closer.

"You aren't a monster..." He muttered with determination. "You might be in need of some medical attention, but a monster is someone who does bad without reason, someone who enjoys the cruel things he does... appearance has nothing to do with it," he explained passionate.

He shrugged one shoulder, trying to calm down: "I will be your friend, if you want to," he muttered, feeling a bit shy of jumping into this. He knew nothing about this man, but there was something... Just something about him. "People lie... all the time..." He whispered, unwillingly thinking about Sherlock. "My best friend has done the same to me, and now I am alone again..."

"I'll get you food now, you need energy to get better..." He exclaimed, standing up.

The creature startled a bit at the tone of John's voice, immediately backing away again. His past experience with people haunting him like nothing had ever done before. "But I.. I have done bad things as well." He confessed. He had indeed done wrong to many people, but he didn't knew how to behave, how to deal with disappointment and feelings of being betrayed.

The man's words seemed to calm him down, though. If he had wanted to hurt him, he would have done it moments ago, he wouldn't first take care of him, would he? A sort of smile crept on his face. "You want to be my friend?" He said, leaning closer to John. The creature worked a bit like little kids, he didn't need to know much about the other person, as long as he didn't mean to hurt him, it would be okay for him. "Yes. Yes!" He sounded far too happy about this. "I have tried to find a friend for a long time now." He said.

"Why do people lie?" he wondered out loud. But it didn't matter much, people don't need a reason for their actions, they do whatever they want anyway. He almost understood the things the other were saying, even though he had no idea who this 'best friend' was. But he seemed no good person, he seemed just like the others the creature had come across to.

"Th..Thank you." He muttered as John got up to get him food, he felt something he had never felt before. A warmth inside of him, making him all soft.

"Everyone does bad things," he muttered, and he really didn't want to think about himself at the moment.

He smiled as he noticed the man getting excited at the prospect of having a friend, it was sort of sweet, his feelings showing clearly on his face, it was refreshing.

"People lie to manipulate, to protect themselves..." he bit on his lower lip. "Sometimes to protect others... sometimes they want to believe the lies as well..." he shook his head, moving towards the door.

"I'll be right back..." he said, disappearing into the other room and coming back five minutes later with a big bowl of hearty hot soup. He placed it on the bedside table and motioned for him to eat.

"My name is John, by the way, John Watson."

The man's explanations of lies only confused his more. But he decided not to ask any more on this topic. He really was looking forward to something to eat now and asking would only delay that. As he was alone in the room he stood up and inspected it. Some weird things he had never seen before were stored here, along with some books, clothes and other things.

He was back on the bed when John returned, smiling in anticipation. "John Watson." He repeated, as if he was storing the name somewhere in his mind. "I do not have a name." He simply said. He almost jumped onto the night table to get his soup. His hands cupped around the warm bowl and he lifted it to his lips and gutted a good bit down.

"Aaaaah." He whimpered, placing the bowl back down. "Hot. HOT." he had swallowed it, a bit dripping down his chin. The creature stuck his tongue out, his hand waving in front of it to create some cold wind.

John frowned at the words: "What do you mean you do not have a name? How is that possible? You must have one!" he exclaimed, his mind raking to find some sort of explanation, an ex criminal maybe? A convict? Amnesia? Mental institution patient?
He looked at the man, covered in scars and hurt, leaning towards the soup so fast one could tell he hadn't had a decent meal in ages, the happiness clear on his features and John couldn't bring himself to think badly of him.

"Careful!" he exclaimed concerned as the man managed to scald his tongue. He grabbed a tissue and moved closer, wiping the soup off. "I know you are hungry, but you've got to be careful... it's hot... take it easy," he muttered softly, smiling a bit. "I'll get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?" he suggested helpful.

The creature had the intention to back away again as John leaned closer, but he was too busy and focussed on hos tongue. What John was doing was beyond fascinating to him. He wiggled his tongue around in his mouth a few times until he could feel it getting better.

"I do not have a name." He said again. "He never gave me one. He only referred to me as it." The creature explained. Everyone had a name, why didn't he got one? Why would they always deny him, why did they always deny he had rights as well?

"Water." He ordered, then looking up to John again and smiling soft. "Please." He added polite. He had some manners nomatter how socially awkward he was. He was determined on getting it right this time. John seems like the perfect friend.

John felt anger pool in his chest: "It?" He exclaimed in disbelief, how cruel was that? He took in a deep breath, not wanting to scare the other man with his disdain. "Would you like a name?" He asked, his eyes moving on him again. "I surely need to call you in some way..."

The genuine smile had a calming effect on John, it was uncanny how very much like a baby some of this man's expressions could be, John couldn't even see the deformity of the flesh any more. "I'll get you water..." he muttered, disappearing for a few minutes again, and coming back with a glass of water and some biscuits.

His eyes widened at John's tone once again. "Why are you getting upset about it, John?" He asked confused. "They did this to me, you have a name, a place to stay and nice food. I see no reason for you to be upset about it." His eyes restlessly on the man in front of him.

"A name? Yes. I would be overjoyed to finally have a name!" He exclaimed, a smile parting his lips. "What would you name me?" He asked curious, once John had return with his water. By now he had finished his soup completely, of course not without spilling some of it.

The water went in pretty easy and most of all greedy. He felt overwhelmed with a kindness that was completely new to him. Guilt tugging on his inside, he had to do something in return, even when John didn't asked for it. They had explained this, to give and to get. But what? What could he possibly do?

The man's words surprised John, he hadn't really thought he was lucky just for having a name, it was something he had always taken for granted. But could it really be that no one had given this man a name? How could anyone be that cruel? How could a name become a luxury?

"I am upset to know how they treated you, that's all," he admitted, sitting down by the bed again.

"Name you?" he repeated, rubbing his forehead thoughtful. "I am not sure you should delegate to me something so important... don't you have a name you would like to have?" he asked with an encouraging smile.

The creature looked at John with confused eyes once more, but left the topic as it was. He couldn't understand how John could be affected by something they didn't even do to him. But there was a lot he didn't understand.

"I do not know about names." He said, tilting his neck to one side as he was thinking. "But I should be Adam. God was proud of Adam." He said, remembering only a few names from the book he had read a while ago. He loved it.

John's eyebrow shot up in surprise at the words: "Adam," he repeated, it sounded oddly fitting, and the reason for such a choice only made him look at the man with pity in his eyes. Indeed he was like a kid, looking for some sort of recognition.

John wasn't sure he wanted to know what kind of things they said and done to him to make him like this.

"Adam it is then," he said, standing up and walking closer. "It's nice to meet you Adam," he muttered, extending his hand to shake. "You can stay here until you are better, this is my extra bedroom," he said with a grin.

It felt strange at first, hearing John saying the name he had just given himself. "I am Adam." He said proud, as if he was introducing himself for the first time, as if they had just met a minute ago.

Adam's looked at John's hand for a moment before he stretched out his own hand. He placed it, oddly, over John's and pulled it a little closer to him. "Nice to meet you as well, John." He smiled, still proud he finally had a name. He no longer was a nameless monster roaming around the forest.

His eyes widened a bit at John's gesture. "You're very kind to me. You're the best friend I ever had." He smiled. "You have more then one room?" He asked curious, wondering about the rest of the place. "Then you are not poor." He pointed out. People who lived in the city, with a nice place, no they weren't poor like him.

John laughed a bit at the man's awkward gestures, he could tell he wasn't used to this and it was rather endearing. "I am not particularly kind, I think it's the least I can do to help a fellow human being... Especially considering those jerks hurt you quite badly..."

He laughed a bit at the words. "No, I am not rich... I used to have a flatmate, we would divide rent, and I work... there are much better houses than this one... even though I can't really complain, I like it here..." Even though the memories, he thought, looking around at what was left of Sherlock's things.

"You are kind to me, therefore I believe you're kind. People don't tend to do this, they abandon me from society but you pull me back in." Adam explained, John was the kindest person he had ever come across to in his entire life.

"I think this is pretty." His voice had a certain kind of reassurance in it. Considering he had been sleeping in fields, forests and dark alleys. "Where is your flatmate now?" He asked out of pure curiosity.

"Well, it's nice of you to say that, I guess," he muttered, unwilling to argue over such a trivial matter. "Would you like to rest some more? I'll make sure there will be more food once you wake up..."

He tensed at the question, hurt clearly flickering in his eyes. "He lives with his boyfriend now," he explained, looking outside the window. "He moved on, found himself a life of his own..."

"I am not tired any more, but I have a strange feeling, like an heartbeat right here in my head." He pointed out a place close to his temple. It felt as if his brain was pulsing, throbbing against his skull, ready to explode.

For a moment the creature felt the highest form of sympathy as he noticed the sad look lingering on John's face. He moved a bit closer, stretching his arm out and placing it on John's shoulder in a cheap attempt to comfort him. "I'll be your new best friend now. You do not have to feel sad about it any more. You do not have to feel lonely."