To say Sherlock Holmes was awkward was an understatement. Not only did he have trouble making friends, but he was the new kid. Again. Sherlock hated being the new kid, and he hated crowds. Too many voices and sights. His senior year of high school was going to be hell.

The black 1967 Chevy Impala pulled up in the high school parking lot. Dean Winchester stepped out of the driver's seat, looking particularly badass in his leather jacket. His younger brother, Sam, slammed the passenger seat door.
"Careful with my baby!" Dean snapped. "And follow the rules."
"I know, I know," Sam replied, sending Dean his infamous bitch face. "Stay away from you, stay away from your friends, don't tell anyone we're related."
"Good. Can't have any of these dumb assholes figure out the nerdy junior with the girly hair is my baby bro." Dean waved and walked toward his group of friends. Senior year was going to kick ass.

"Come along Ponds!" Matt "The Doctor" Smith had each arm slung around one of the sisters, River on his right and Amy on his left. Rory, Amy's boyfriend for almost three years now, trudged a few steps behind them. "Senior year is going to be great!"
"Geronimo," River said in her melodic voice, gently mocking her boyfriend's favorite saying.
The Doctor straightened his classic bow tie, a true fashion statement. "Geronimo indeed." Senior year was going to be an adventure.