Mount Justice Academy
Chapter 1
I saw him jump, saw him hit the concrete. My whole body froze in shock, mind numbing, and I couldn't breathe. The love of my life. Dead, and there wasn't anything I could do…
I jolted up from my bed, the subject of my nightmares so vastly different from what I was used to, and much more terrifying. Sighing I flopped back down to my pillow and threw my arm over my head, I felt a stir next to me and I went quiet. Merely a moment too late, I felt Sherlock throw his arm over me. He propped on his elbow and looked at me studying me the way he did when he knew something was wrong. Finally he said, "Nightmare?" never too pushy he left the rest for me to disclose on my own, even though I knew he already knew. We were working on the "I don't understand human emotion or sentiment" thing. Finally I huffed and rolled towards him looking into his eyes, I simply muttered "Don't die" and turned standing to go and cook our son breakfast.
Logan Watson, age 14, was the adopted son of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. He had jet black hair, violet eyes, and was born December 2nd, 2000. All that being said, he hated life this particular morning. And why shouldn't he! His hair was a mess, he was late, he had been given burnt bacon, caught his dads making out, been given the "don't talk to Moriarty's kid" lecture AGAIN, and now he was off to school on a bicycle because he missed the bus. And of course the school was up the side of a mountain and blocked by security gates and cameras out the wazoo. His Uncle Mycroft would know the minute he arrived, and he'd have to hear that lecture again as well. The "Being Prompt is a Life Skill" lecture was one of the duller and definitely more annoying lectures he'd had to endure growing up. Regardless time passed quickly and with his semi athletic build he arrived at the academy exactly one hour late.
When he got to his room he met his boarding buddy, a guy named William Hudson in class a year above him. The info sheet given to each of them told them the basic information about their roommate. William was barely 15, born March 1st, 1999. Apparently he was the son of both of his father's old friend Molly and some guy she met. Hudson…sounded awful familiar but he wasn't sure where from. Glancing him over Logan ran a quick analysis. He was a somewhat timid looking attractive guy, with blond hair and eyes that resembled that of a Siberian huskies ice blue. He had glasses on his shirt hinting that he needed them but not always, perhaps only for reading. There were several electronics on his side of the room, indicating he was tech savvy. Amongst the computers and phones were diagrams, and books on logistics and biology. Shaking his head Logan wondered for a split second what kind of overachievers he was dealing with at this school. Smiling at the boy who was looking at him with the same amount of interest, he tossed his stuff on his bed, and explained his lateness before running out of the room down to his academics class.
MRS. RICHARDSON was written in bold on the board. She was a tall and thin woman with a tight bun, round glasses that sat low on her nose, and a tight lipped frown. Her words were monotone, and you could tell she was one of those teachers that liked to pick favorites. Logan snuck into the room and made his way towards the seats in the room. The class had at least 50 students in it, considering that that was all of the first year students that wasn't really a lot. Glancing around quickly, he saw a single seat next to a bright auburn haired boy at the back of the room. Moving quickly he settled himself in and began taking notes, not even bothering to look at his neighbor. Soon the topic was over, and the ten minutes given between topics began with a roar of chatter and idle conversation. Stretching he glanced at the boy next to him and froze. Malyky Moriarty, age 14, was the adopted son of Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran. He had brown eyes to complement his hair and was born February 2nd, 2000 exactly two months after Logan. During his observation he didn't realize that Malyky was watching him intently. "Took you long enough to notice," he snickered, playfully. Logan rolled his eyes and looked back up to the board, not giving him the courtesy of an answer. This was going to be a long year.
Class went by at its expected slow and boring pace, syllabuses upon syllabuses began to plague the notebooks of all the students, finally after 4 hours it was noon. The lunch bell had barely rung and Logan began packing his bags, hearing the final shrill voice of Mrs. Richardson say on his way out, "And remember students, the seat you are in today is your assigned seat for the remainder of the year. For those of you who were late, please be sure to fill in your name on the seating chart tomorrow." Logan felt her eyes on his neck as he scurried out of the room without a backward glance. His shoulders slumped and he felt the sudden weight of realization…he would be next to Malyky Moriarty all year.
The lunch line was hell, the food smelled way too healthy, and since he didn't have a table yet Logan decided to make that a priority. Walking through the room he glanced around and quickly made some deductions. The long center table was obviously 11th and 12th grade only. The right side of the room was 10th and 11th and the smaller left side was a spatter of 10th but mostly ninth. Walking towards what was obviously his section, he began scanning faces for someone he might know. Nobody from junior high's parents had the money to put them in such a prestigious school. Except one. His eyes flitted over the many too pale faces and landed on the darkest girl in the room, Selah Holmes. His uncle Mycroft's adopted daughter and his cousin, Selah was a gorgeous dark chocolate color, with perfect skin and complexion that came along with it. At the age of 15, Selah's other father was Gregory Lestrade, her birthday was May 27th, 1999 and she was in 10th grade.
Walking over to the table he was beat there by one person that he only recognized once he was closer. His roommate had only just sat down next to his cousin when he approached and made his presence known. Selah stood smiling and wrapped him in a hug. "I was hoping you would find me and not make other new friends to sit with." She winked motioning for him to sit. As Logan sat Selah was bombarded by a whole entire group of people. It was as if they formed a line to speak with her, and he watched as she conversed with a different person from each cliché assessed their problem or situation and made it better with a few simple words. He had heard of her "Mycroft face" from his fathers who had spoken of it as if it was a curse, but he was simply in awe of her abilities. On second she was her goofy self, the next she was full on politician! It was no wonder she was president of student council and only in 10th grade.
Lunch progressed rather smoothly after that and Logan reached down to grab his bag realizing it was a little lighter than it should have been. Unzipping the Swiss Army bag he suddenly realized that one of his books for his extracurriculars was still in his desk. He stood quickly and his pace increased with the sound of the warning bell. Once again he was going to be late to class.
Malyky waited until he saw Logan stand before standing grabbing his coffee and rushing after him. He had realized the minute Logan had left his books that this was an opportunity for torture. He had also "forgotten" his books, and with a sinister grin he had waited for Logan to realize his mistake. He catches up to him right as he reached the corner of the hall that led to their classroom. Grabbing a tuft of his hair he yanked just enough to get the attention of his favorite toy. Logan spun to grab the hand of his assaulter without hesitation and quickly twisted to disable use of that arm. Malyky retaliated in kind twisting his body away from Logan, he lost his footing and right as Mrs. Richardson rounded the corner he felt the coffee slip from his hand, and watched almost in slow motion as it stained her Armani white dress.
They both froze as her angry shriek echoed through the halls and their brains. Her perfectly manicured French tipped nails laid upon wrinkly hands twisted into the hair and scalp of both boys as she dragged them to the principal's office. Cringing they both knew they were in for it this time, and it was only day one.