The Scarlett Boy

Chapter 1

My life, so far has been very boring. Well, until this boy came into my life. He's only 14, and I'm 16, but he is a lot more intelligent than I, which is saying something, because I'm at the top of my class. I have straight As. But the strangest part about this boy is that he's homeschooled. Whoever teaches him must be a genius, because he knows everything I do, and a little more.

If he was in my grade (11), he would probably easily be my match. He knows things about chemistry that I haven't reached yet. His knows a lot about the history of the many things that I never considered before. But, do you know what's the funniest thing I've heard come out of his mouth? He doesn't know the solar system. Out of all the things he couldn't learn, the solar system is something he didn't. he said that he 'deleted' anything that wasn't necessary to his cases. But, honestly, really?

Anyway, I'm John Hamish Watson, god I hate that middle name, just as much as I hate my father. Well, of course, it is my father's middle name but more to the story. This boy's name is Sherlock Holmes, and he turns 15 tomorrow: Valentine's Day. I feel bad for him, being born on a holiday. My birthday isn't until August. The date of today is actually more significant than the others, it's February 13th, the day before Valentine's Day, and I have this one girl on my mind. I don't like her a lot, but she's cute.

Mary and I wanted to go to see a movie or something; we're both lonely on Valentine's Day and I can tell that she likes me, so I said I would take her. she got all excited as if I was her first date ever. But I know I'm not, someone as pretty as her, no way.

My thoughts are interrupted by Sherlock, "John," he says. "I think we should try to find a murder victim tomorrow. What do you think?" I look at him, confused. Tomorrow's Valentine's Day. Why would a murder pop up?

I turn to face him, "What makes you think there'll be a murder tomorrow? Besides, you're only 14, you shouldn't be thinking about things like that." he gives me a look that says that he doesn't care what I say anymore.

"Well, as you know, tomorrow is sadly, my birthday, and I like solving cases, especially murders." He gives me another look that says he really does like solving someone else's misery. "Besides, if I was to murder a girlfriend or wife, I'd do it tomorrow, so no one would suspect me."

"Um. Sherlock?" he looks to me, "You're not going to do something are you?" I ask him. He shakes his head furiously.

"Why would I o something like that? I solve the mysteries, not make them. there's no fun in a murder unless you're the detective." He gives me a look of hurt at the fact that I would suggest such a thing.

I shrug it off, "Just sounded as if you might." It does, though. And I wouldn't put anything past this kid. He's weird.

He sits on his bed on the other side of the room, across from my bed. Our beds are on the opposite walls because, ever since his brother died, I've been looking after him. I don't know why, but I feel responsible for him. I care for him more than anything else, that's for sure. My mother died when I was a baby, and my father and sister don't even look my way anymore.

So, in a sense, we're the same. But in another way, we're completely different. I sigh, "We should go to bed, I have school in the morning and work in the afternoon and a date later that night. I have a lot going on. you, on the other hand have a case to find, apparently." He nods and lays down. I pull the blanket over the little detective and kiss him on the forehead.

Or, at least I try to, but he smacks my hand from his burnet curls, "Don't treat me as if I'm a child. I'm only a year younger than you." he pulls my face down to where our noses were meeting, "And since you have a girlfriend, I won't do the one thing I've wanted to, but if you ever break her heart. Well…" what? Does he like me or something? No, from what I can gather, he likes no one, that's why I don't like him. Because believe me, if I had the chance to, I would… never mind what I would do.

He lets go, "Fine. Just go to sleep." I lay in my bed, and as soon as my head hits the pillow, I gain sleep from the long day I've had. I'm so glad tomorrow is Friday.

I woke up the next morning to find the curly haired menace that I call my flatmate, next to me. when I opened my eyes, he was already staring at me, his bluish grayish eyes digging into mine, "What are you doing?" I back up to the wall and sat up.

He sat up as well, "I couldn't sleep last night, so I cuddled up next to you. you're warm by the way. Is there a problem with that?" I give him a glare.

"What did you do to me? did you experiment on me?" I look down at myself to try to find anything that would prove me right.

"No," he shakes his head, his curls bouncing, " I didn't do anything but cuddle next to you." He shrugs and gets up from my bed and walks to his closet. He pulls out a set of clothes for himself, "You should get dressed as well, you have a lot to do today." I should. And I do.

"Sherlock," he looks at me, expectant of the usual orders, "Don't forget, I remember everything." He scoffs, I get closer, "Everything." He looks down at me; see that's the worst part, he's taller than I am.

"I doubt you, but I guess we'll see later then won't we?" I nod and smile, walking out the door, and locking it behind me. I walk down the hallway and out to the car that I just happen to 'borrow' from my father. He won't notice it's gone, he's got enough. This car was nice though. Not the best, but not a piece of shit, either. It's whatever.

I climb into the driver's seat, thinking about whether Sherlock is safe or if he'll get into some kind of trouble before I get home again. Then I start to think about last night, if I had… no, I hadn't and I won't. There won't be any more drama than there already has to be.

I start the car and take the familiar route to the high school where the next year is my last. I'm not sad, though. I'm actually really happy that next year is the last. It means I get to escape to college. But what of Sherlock? Maybe I should enroll him into the high school. Maybe get him to tenth grade. Seems right for his age.

No, he'd just cause problems, what with his silly deductions, he'd make every one of his teachers cry. Maybe even the men.

I arrive a little earlier than usual, a few minutes before 8:00. School starts at 8:20, but I guess Sherlock kicked me out of the flat a little early this morning, I wonder why. Whatever, it's Sherlock, he's a little brat and would never tell me anything if I tortured it out of him.

I leave the car and make way to the doors to see Mary standing in front of them with a group of friends surrounding her. as soon as I approach, they leave, giggling about something. "Hey," I stop in front of her. her blond hair is taken by the wind as she can't figure out what to say. She smiles.

"How's Sherlock?" really.

I nod, "He's fine, why?" she shrugs. "So, are we still on for tonight?" she nods, "Seven?" she nods again and walks through the doors to follow her friends. Ok.

I head to my first class: chemistry. I'm reminded of Sherlock as soon as I walk through the door. Science was everywhere as I sat down in my chair. I pull out my homework from last night and look over the answers that sadly, Sherlock helped with. I don't know why, but when he teaches me, I always understand it better.

The teacher is sitting at her desk when she asks, "Did you get a good night's sleep, John?" I look up at Mrs. Jenny.

I smile, "Yeah. I always do, especially with Sherlock getting on me about it all the time."

She chuckles softly, "That boy is good for you. don't let him get away." What does that mean? She smiles and sits in her seat as I go over the homework one last time. Then I just sit there and look at the many things about this room that remind me of at least one of Sherlock's mysteries.

When he solves them, he slips the Yard a note and they 'solve' the case the next day. I think it's funny, but Sherlock thinks the funniest part is Lestrade's face each time he solves the case before the Yard can. I will admit, each part of the story is unbelievable if you don't live with the guy yourself. At first I didn't believe him.

That's also why I took him in as mine, because he seemed crazy, until that day we were sitting in my room and he started to deduce things about me that no one else even bothered to find out. That was when I decided that this boy would be my responsibility. If he gets into the wrong hands, they could use him for things that a young man should never be involved with.

My thoughts are disrupted by the bell, and students start rushing into the classroom. Jenice sits by me and says, "So, how is that boyfriend of yours, John?" I sigh in frustration.

"He's not my boyfriend, and he's fine." I look at my burnet friend.

She laughs, "Well, from the way you talk about him, he might as well be your boyfriend." I shrug. He might as well be, but if anything, I take care of him. Besides, if tonight goes well, I'll have a girlfriend.