There was a girl who lived across the street from the Holmes's. She was the youngest in a family of five. Her name was Madeline Malloy. Madeline stayed to herself, her solitude a security blanket. She liked books. At school, if you looked closely, you could see ink and graphite staining of her hands and clothing. She didn't like to talk.
This was all of the information Sherlock had in his pocket-sized notebook about the only other girl his age on his street. It bothered him. When he was deducing her and couldn't gather anything, he would refer to another person, then back again to her. Finally, after about two days of planning, he decided to learn more about her.
On the day, school was dull(surprise). Sherlock had already learned all of the topics previously in school or by reading Mycroft's textbooks from previous years. It was a Friday, so each stupid person was louder and more engergetic than usual. Mycroft had plans with a girl(which humored Sherlock to no end, why would anyone take an intrest in Mycroft?), so he would be out. Father was away again, and Mummy wouldn't bother him if he told her he was 'exploring the neighborhood' with a friend.
So Sherlock stared outside of the window, completely bored. His shorts went only to right above his knee, the dark brown harshly contrasting with the pale skin below. He had pulled his white socks up to right under his knee. The white button-up was to tight, his uniform tie too big, and the tweed jacket was to rough. God, how he was itching to get out. The second before the schoolbell rang, Sherlock jumped up, grabbed his bookbag, and ran his gangly legs out of the classroom and across the campus. Madeline had an advantage- her last class was already at the corner of the school that was closest to their street.
Madeline wore the same uniform Sherlock did- the brown jacket and shorts(or in her case, skirt), knee-high white socks, navy blue tie, and white button-down. Her light brown hair was tied up and out oof the face, and her nose was buried in J.R.R. Tolkein's The Hobbit. Sherlock scowled at the book. Fantasy was so useless. When ever in your life would you use it? He added impractical to his list of Madeline's