"Sherlock!" I shouted over and over in vain, he simply was ignoring me. I've become tired of this boy's tomfoolery and yet, and yet, I'm stuck with him. Miss. Holmes has kindly asked me to watch over him seeing as I am the top student in my class. She had hoped I could assist in getting him to do well in school or at very least get him to go but since she left on this business trip of her's he refuses to go making a fuss about it every morning. "Sherlock!" The more I had to yell the more irritated I got. "Sherlock, so help me I will bust down this door if I have to!" I waited for a reply resting my head on the door of his room. "Sherlock why do you hate school so much?" As I spoke I could hear small click and the door knob twisting. " Its boring." He replied. " I hate boring. Memorizing facts about stuff I don't even care about, it suppresses independent thought, and is nine hours of my life I will never, ever get back." I pushed opened the door that only a second ago had been locked and for all I knew barricaded possibly by the desk that spontaneously occupied the exact middle of the room. " This is about astronomy isn't...my god! Put some cloths on!" Sherlock stood in the middle of the room, naked with only a blue bed sheet to cover him. He paced the room eagerly, with his hands clasped behind his back walking to and fro till he suddenly stopped in front of the desk and sat down on the floor. "Astronomy will never help me in life and this is my room, I do what I want."
"Yes, I can see that this is your room." I took a short moment to look around (For this is the first time I've ever set foot in his room.) I was certainly surprised to see books, books everywhere! From the bed to the door even on the ceiling. (Not sure how he got those there.) It was amazing if one could manage even to walk in this room or even live in it. The bed was unmade and there were clothes scattered around along with some newspaper clippings and articles printed from the internet. I continued as I was. "Sherlock you cannot go to school like that."
"I'm not going."
"Yes, you are." One would bore of this briskly but I am in agreement with his mother so I could not just throw my hands in the air and give up. I had to get to this kid one way or another and there is only one, okay, maybe two ways to get him upset enough to go, but only one would work fast. "Look your brother already left. Happy, in uniform hair greased back. Why can't you be more like him?" Sherlock gave me a rude, disgusted stare. "This is exactly why I don't make friends. Now get out while I get dressed." Without warning he then proceeded to push me out of his room and into the hall exceeding to slam the door on the back of my head.

"What happened? I heard a door slam." Miss. Hudson the babysitter as you might call her though she says that she is the landlady that happens to live in the same house as Sherlock and his family and takes care of the Holmes children while keeping the house clean. She may own the house but in the end she really just gets payed to babysit. "I think Sherlock hates me." She only smiled and said,"Oh, He hates everyone dear, don't take it personally now." She then started to saunter back to the kitchen when she stopped halfway and without looking back and asked,"John, if you like I have some nice black tea and some small cakes on the table." I could not resist free food. " Thank you I'll be right there." I had just made myself comfortable when I heard a loud slam of a door. Sherlock made his way out, dressed in the school uniform and sweater vest, I must admit he looked good except for one or two things. "You can't wear a scarf and comb your hair." He threw his hand up in the air and exclaimed, "Look as how I'm not even in school yet and I'm already being suppressed." He took off the scarf and made a small effort with his hair. It was a good attempt that I admired from him considering his hair from yesterday but now it was time for the hard part the inspection of Sherlock Holmes's backpack. "Your backpack, let me see it." He made a face and handed it over. In the large pocket, nothing. The smaller ones, nothing, The binder, a gun. "Sherlock, a gun? Really? What do you think someone is going to attack you?" He looked up and the ceiling shifting his feet back and forth rolled his eyes, looked at me with his head tilted and said with a sarcastic voice." Yes." I handed the gun to Miss. Hudson as Sherlock snatched his backpack and like a child stuck out his tongue at me. I could only sigh at his juvenile attempts to anger me. I just had to remind myself of the promise I had made with Miss. Holmes to keep me calm and in way, hopeful.

Now before I continue I wish to explain my situation. As aforementioned I made a promise with Miss. Holmes to watch over her son while she is gone. She has promised me, in turn, a scholarship. A good one too, for any college I would choose. For you, my long time reader of the "News Weekly" that I have long time been publishing will be disappointed to hear that this will no longer be the case, seeing as Sherlock is now, most of my free time has been taken away, I will however write about my experiences with Sherlock and as a student writer work to improve my skills as we continue.

~Sincerest apologies,

John Watson