Summary:
Ninth grader John Watson transfers to a new school and instantly drawn to mysterious student Sherlock Holmes. There's just one problem: no one else in the class acknowledges that Sherlock even exists. Based on the anime Another. Teenlock AU!
01 Rough Sketch
There's an old legend of a boy from the Holmes family. He was everything that a parent could hope for in a child: intelligent, athletic, good-looking; beloved by students and teachers alike. But shortly after he started ninth grade, the boy died.
People were devastated.
That is, until it happened.
Another boy in the class pointed to the Holmes child's desk and screamed, "There he is! He's not dead! He's right in front of us!"
It was just an act, of course, but from that day onward class three behaved as if the boy was still alive. They kept up the facade until graduation, where the principal even arranged an extra seat for the boy in the graduation ceremony. It would have been a good thing. A kind thing. If only the story had ended there…
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"You poor thing," his grandmother murmured to him as she tucked the scratchy hospital sheets under his chin. "It must be so hard starting in a new place, and now you have your health to worry about too."
"It's alright, grandma." Truth be told, having a collapsed lung was quite painful, but John had grown tired of hospital life long ago. At this point, he would give up his other lung just to be out of this place and talking to someone that wasn't Harry, his grandparents, or a nurse.
He turned to his sister. "Does Dad know?"
"Of course, John," she replied, taking John's hand and stroking it. "I called him as soon as it happened."
John smiled at her, grateful for the comfort. Due to their twelve-year age difference, Harry had always been more like a mother to him than a sibling. She was the only mother he had ever known, since his own had died shortly after birthing him. His father hadn't told him much about her, only her name (Diane) and that she had grown up in his grandparent's hometown of Presteigne.
"Do you want to call him yourself?" his grandmother asked.
"I'm sure he's busy," John said. His father was in India right now, conducting research on some scorpion or butterfly or whatever "it" species it was this year. John looked just like his father; so naturally everyone expected them to be two peas in a pod.
But the only memories that John really had of the man were of him leaving, whether it be dumping him at daycare at the University or leaving him with Harry to go to a conference. He and his father had never been close. At least now they had the distance to use as an excuse.
Harry seemed to pick up on his dark thoughts. "That's the Presteigne River to the north, John, flowing through the center of town," she said, motioning out of the hospital window. "And beyond that is North High School."
John nodded, eager to be distracted. "Which class do you teach in again?"
Harry smirked mischievously. "You'll find out."
Strange. Harry and him had grown apart a little over the past few years since she'd married and moved back to Presteigne to teach. But still, it wasn't like her to keep secrets from him. "It is the same school that you went to, right?"
"Yeah. But that was a long time ago."
"And mom, too," he pressed.
"And mom too," she repeated. John really looked at Harry for the first time in good while. From the few pictures of his mother that John had seen, Harry looked a great deal like her. She and their mother both had the same wide, cherubic features, with long honey colored hair typically worn up in a ponytail. The two women also had kind hazel eyes, although Harry usually wore horn-rimmed glasses that gave hers more of an authoritative stare.
"School at North High is a little different than it was in London," Harry said. "As soon as you get better, I'll teach you everything you need to know."
There was something ominous in his sister's tone made John feel uneasy, as if Harry was hiding something from him. John hurriedly pushed those doubts aside. After all, high school was high school. How different could it be?
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"Oh, you're reading about the nervous system now?" Sarah asked as she fixed him with another IV drip.
"Yeah," John said. The prick hurt a bit, but John barely felt it. Out of all the nurses, Sarah was definitely the nicest, and he enjoyed seeing her. "I want to be a doctor some day."
She grinned genuinely at him, and John felt himself blush. With her plump lips and bright smile, Nurse Sarah was also the prettiest.
"You'd be a great doctor, since you're so kind. I can give you some of my old textbooks if you want."
John grinned back at her. "I'd like that, thanks."
"No problem," Sarah said as she walked toward the door. "Oh. It looks like you have some visitors." John followed her gaze to see three students standing outside in the hallway, two boys and a girl. All of them wore dark blue blazers and red ties, signaling that they went to North High.
"I'll just leave you alone, then?" Sarah said, moving into the hall, but keeping her eyes on John as if she were afraid to leave him alone with the trio.
"We'll be fine," John reassured her.
Immediately after Sarah left, one of the students stepped forward. The boy had a strong face and brown hair that had just a hint of grey to it.
"I'm Greg, and this is Sally and Anderson," Greg said, motioning to a dark-skinned girl with curly black hair and a boy with a rather large nose. "We're all in class 3 at North Presigne."
"John Watson," he introduced himself.
Greg smiled warmly. "It's good to meet you, John. We heard that you were supposed to start in our class last Monday."
John laughed. "Well, that was the plan, anyway."
"Yeah, I figured something came up," Greg deadpanned. He handed John a large manila envelope. "Here's something so that you don't fall too behind.
John opened it and thumbed through to see a stack of papers copied with impeccably neat handwriting.
"It's the class notes from the first week," Greg explained.
"Thanks, Greg," John beamed. School had always came easy to him, but the thought of catching up after spending so much time in the hospital had been making him feel a bit anxious. "I really appreciate it."
"Actually, most people call me Lestrade," the boy offered. John made a mental note. The odd name had a bit of weight to it, an aura of authority. It somehow suited the boy better.
"Consider it a gift from the class. The three of us are officers," he continued. "I'm President, and Anderson is Vice President. Sally is the head of countermeasures."
John scratched his head. "What exactly are countermeasures?"
"You just transferred here right?" Sally asked, brushing aside his question with an air of superiority. It didn't sit right for some reason, like a lingering taste in his mouth of a food that he didn't particularly enjoy.
Anderson stared openly at him, making John feel as if he were a bug under a microscope. "We hear you went to boarding school in London. Why did you transfer here?"
"Family reasons," John answered, not bothering to go into the specifics.
"Have you ever lived in Presteigne before?" Anderson probed.
"Uh, I think I was born here, but I never lived for a long time."
"Did you stay long?" Sally asked. John was taken aback by the open hostility in her voice. She was practically interrogating him. Why does she care so much?
"I don't really remember. I was really young, so…maybe? Sorry," he apologized. John could care less about disappointing Sally or Anderson, but Greg seemed like a pretty nice guy. It was clear that the three of them were mistaking him for someone else, but John didn't want to cause the boy any unnecessary heartbreak.
Suddenly a wave of tiredness hit him. He still didn't know who these kids were or why they were so keen on knowing his family history. But at the moment all John wanted was for them to go home so he could take a nap.
"I think I'll be starting school in October, so I'll see you all then," John announced in a not-so-subtle attempt to steer them toward the door.
Sally stepped forward to shake his hand. "It was nice to meet you, John." Her handshake was firm and authoritative. "Are you sure you've never lived in this town?"
"I don't think so," he answered honestly.
"It's just… your handshake feels familiar, somehow. Like we've met before."
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John through a jacket on top of his flannel pajamas and stepped into the elevator. He dialed his dad's number. Harry's been hounding me all day to call him. Hopefully this will get her off my back. Plus it's probably too late for him to actually pick up.
A soft breath in his ear made him start. "Jesus Christ!" he yelled, jerking forward in fright. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."
Standing behind him was a tall boy dressed in a North High Uniform, with a long blue scarf around his neck instead of the standard tie. His corkscrew curls, pale skin, and delicate features gave him a doll-like appearance, which John found simultaneously off-putting and attractive. However the part that John couldn't staring at were his eyes. One was a brilliant emerald green, with small flecks of gold. The other was covered by a white eye patch.
"Are you a student at North Prestigne?" John asked.
The boy nodded, but otherwise said nothing.
John shivered. He had only known this kid for a total of thirty seconds, but he seemed different, somehow. "Do you have something to do on the basement level?"
"Yes," the boy answered in a clipped baritone.
"But the second floor basement is… the morgue."
He smirked almost imperceptibly. "I'm visiting an old friend."
The elevator doors opened and the boy walked slowly toward the dark hallway. John's eyes widened when he saw what that the boy was carrying a riding crop. What's he doing bringing something like that down to the morgue?
"Wait!" John called before the boy was enveloped in darkness completely. "Um, I'm John. What's your name?"
A pale face stared back at him, looking eerily like a corpse. "Sherlock Holmes."