Disclaimer: I do not own this work or franchise, its characters, or anything associated to it.
Summary:
The auburn sky and the lonely wave. He himself wondered how a young man from Bakersfield, a middle-class complex and an eighteen year old brat, would attract the attention of Watson. Imagine, a wonderful man like Watson: A year older, an estranged noble youth, and a very charming person with a bookworm from the dusty library named Sherlock Holmes himself. Truly, their relationship was bound to attract trouble.
AU. Rated T for Mild Language and Violence. May be moved to M for later chapters.
Chapter One
A Dusty Book Worth of a Fingerprint
The day was strangely calm. The whistling wind of the sea mixed with the open air of the Flea Market. Aisles of stands managing their work as the sun began to rise from the horizon overlooking the port city of Braidbury. Folks from every corner of the city visited this place every Sunday for there are always some sort of events not found at any other days, one such folk is a bookworm named Sherlock Holmes.
Accompanying him was his estranged childhood friend, Rose, who seemed to have fun rummaging the discount bin. Sherlock himself enjoyed her company, but he would rather went alone than risking being teased at his dorm when someone found out that the unnatractive and clumsy Holmes was enjoying his Sunday Morning with a girl in his off time.
Both of them shared the same height, the same hair color—auburn—which matched their eyes. The difference being that one was born as a boy, and the other a girl. While Rose would prefer to go out and play, Sherlock would rather stay in-doors for a study session. If Rose excelled in physical activity, Sherlock took care of his academics by using his trained brain. If a saying were to be used, it would be used with "The opposite attracts".
Normally, he would brush off her existence, but today, he was in a good mood. Master Heidenberg, a ship captain and a renowned fencer that he looked up to, would be offering free classes for Fencing at the Town Square. When Rose heard about the news, she was ecstatic and wanted to tag along, presumably to watch the bookworm fail miserably at thrusting his epee.
Yet, he did not know that this Sunday is his fateful meeting with a signifficant other.
As soon as he entered the Town Square, he could easily distinguish Master Heidenberg from the rest. He had an eye missing covered by black eyepatch. A ragged short hair and a thick mustache both have passed their prime and aged beautifully. His bulky stature and tall height made him stick out like a sore thumb. His garment consisting of a black fencing armor-overalls only made it worse.
When Master Heidenberg taught Sherlock his first idea of fencing, he loved it. It was as if he was having a chess fight by being both the king, the knights, and the pawns. Every strike counts and every feints matter. While it was just a practice run, he enjoyed every seconds of it, and so did Rose. Seeing the bookworm looking a bit manly while holding a practice epee and dressed in a fencing armor would be one story to win over her peers.
It was all a smooth sailing experience until Master Heidenberg ordered a mock battle session.
Confronting the small-statured Bookworm was the ripe, and strongly-build boy older than him. His raven hair combed to the side and his stare cold and distant. A frown seemed to be permanently affixed to his face as he bowed at the start of their match. When the first round started, the result was predictable: Sherlock received a relentless beatdown, forcing the overseer to end the match with a victory to the challenger. With the bookworm badly battered, Rose soon came to his aid and walked him to the dorm, where his caretaker, Mrs. Amber, slid him into his bed for the remainder of the day.
The next day, Sherlock grumbled.
Usually, he would have went to the library, but today, he'd rather kick a rock until the school gate. The first period would be Physical Education if he recalled it right, and if he did call it right, it was a chance for him to at least improve his physique, so something akin to a disaster like yesterday will not be happening anytime soon.
Bump! He walked into someone. Their arms bumped onto one another, causing the passerby to drop his book and Sherlock slightly confused. Mental note: Look forward whenever you are walking, Sherlock, thought himself.
As he hurried to pick up the book, he found it to be old. A diary of some sort with its cover in tatters. He didn't notice at first, but when he looked up, it was a familiar sight. Wearing the same white and black outfit of his and slightly crouching before the bookworm, was the person from yesterday.
With a flushed rosy cheek, the boy before Sherlock bowed. "Excuse my clumsiness." He said with a soft voice unfitting for his stature and Sherlock's first impression.
It was an unnexpected response. One such response that would make even the savvy bookworm adjust his glasses in a motionless silence. All he could do while the boy before him acted severely disgusting, was to hand him his book and let him walk away, never to ever mention this to anyone. Which he did.
With the book in his arms, he bowed once again before he ran to the main building.
"Who was that?" Sherlock asked.
He looked down and noticed some of the covers scattered across the concrete tiles. He noticed one of them being a lot more dirty than it should. He pulled out his magnifying glasses from his bookreading toolkit inside his bag, and dusted off some of the filth with the feather attatched to his writing quill.
"Room 302." He repeated what was said on the text.
It seemed that his curiosity got the better of him, as he decided, on the spot, to investigate the boy. Maybe he could use him to teach him how to become stronger, manipulate him, have him dancing on the palm of his hand.
Or be his loyal friend.
To Be Continued.