The plan was simple enough: get out of class, grab his lunch at his locker, and then head to the cafeteria, where he would sit alone and eat, glaring at anyone who attempted to be kind or friendly. The human need to feel good about oneself was quite disgusting at times, really.

But Sherlock's plan failed, incredibly so.

He said goodbye to John, who headed off his Pre Med. Class, and then walked quickly and quietly through the large, bustling hall. The fact that the other kids were attempting to make their way to various classes, find friends, take a piss, and seemed to have forgotten where everything was located in the school building during the summer was getting on his nerves. He just wanted to eat.

Sherlock's eyes skimmed over the heads of the crowd, he could see his brother Mycroft not far away, talking to some other leadership students. He smirked; his brother cared far too much about social ties to really find any peace in life. Sherlock on the other hand, well he had John, and he had Greg (or was it Graham?). The two had both been in his forensics class the previous year, and they had soon become a great team. Sherlock always got along better with John though, who seemed to have more free time. What they did in that free time? Well it usually consisted of working on homework, gossiping, and occasionally stealing one of his mum's beers. It was dull, but Sherlock wasn't complaining. At least he had a friend now.

The teen clicked in his locker combo, one that he had memorized the moment he had seen it, and pulled open the little door. He went to grab his lunch, only until he realized that the locker was empty. Sherlock huffed, he had forgotten to get food again, it looked like he'd have to purchase a school lunch.

And so he stalked downstairs, making sure to give the stink eye to anyone who dared glance at him. Sherlock was already having a ridiculously strenuous day, after getting into a fight about how homologous structures had evolved with his Biology teacher, Mr. Anderson, who then proceeded to kick him out of the class. Prick.

The cafeteria was noisy ad crowded, and smelled a bit like stale popcorn. Sherlock made his way to one of the lunch lines, hiking his thin backpack a little bit over his shoulder as he chewed on his tongue. He half considered sneaking out to the parking lot and having a smoke from the pack of cigarettes he had snuck in, but he decided against it. Mycroft could only talk him out of trouble so many times.

On the menu that day was grilled cheese and tomato soup, and Sherlock barely managed to smile at the janitor Mrs. Hudson, as she walked past. The school lunches were always disappointing, and hardly proved to have any taste, not to mention they had the nutritional consistency of dirt.

He carefully looked over the available trays, and chose the one that looked the least like processed road kill. The teen then proceeded to grab a handful of napkins and turn to find a little table to eat at.

At least, that was the plan anyways.

Sherlock could barely stop himself from cursing as he crashed into another student, efficiently sending her spiraling to the ground, her brown hair whirling behind her as her white sweater was soon stained with an abundance of tomato soup. She fell hard on her elbows, spluttering as her eyes went wide with shock, mouth forming a small "o". Sherlock was not much better off, he found himself trying to desperately balance on his heels, and failing miserably as he stumbled to the ground, the evidence of her tomato soup was found in his hair, soiling his black curls and turning them into crusty, wet strands.

He blinked a few times, mostly to get the soup out of his eyes, and then he sat up. All around him people were staring, a few laughed while a few looked as if they were about to help them, but most simply just looked on in shock, anticipating what the famously angst ridden Sherlock Holmes would do next.

His eyes soon fell on the girl that he had crashed into, who was desperately trying to get up without making more of a mess then she already had. She looked up at him, brown eyes carefully shadowed and lips a dusty pink; she offered him a small, uneasy grin.

Sherlock didn't believe in love at first sight. He didn't really believe in love, actually. But he couldn't deny in those moments that a strange, fluttering feeling filled his stomach. He pushed it aside as he stood, coming over to offer the girl a hand up. She took it, blue painted fingernails clasping his wrist as he pulled her to her feet, she offered him another shy smile, and he felt that same strange feeling.

"Sorry about that, I must not have seen you there." She said with a little laugh, and Sherlock, not sure of what to say, just looked at her blankly. Good Lord he felt like an idiot.

The girl grabbed her soiled backpack from the floor and pulled it over her shoulder, cheeks flushed pink at the stares that they were given, yet she didn't mention them. "I don't believe we've met," she said, "I'm Molly, I just transferred here."

Molly.

For a strange, inexplicable reason, Sherlock felt himself smile. "Sherlock Holmes." He responded, eyes memorizing every part about this girl. What made her so special anyways- he wondered? She wore makeup just like the rest of the girls here, and she seemed to dress rather modestly and quaintly. Judging by her slouching form, she carried three or four heavy books in her bag, she must have been taking several college courses. Her hair had been in a ponytail earlier that day, judging by the one crease towards the base of her head, but she had favored it down. Sherlock's eyes traveled over the long brown waves, he liked it down as well.

Her clothes were inexpensive, but not trashy. She wore a perfume that would've been bought at a quality beauty store, so she must have figured that her looks aren't adequate, trying to instead compensate with fragrance. She was pale, with rosy cheeks and no freckles. Either a London native or a very similar looking foreigner, but judging by her accent he went for the former. Her teeth were just barely crooked, so her family either didn't have the money to fix them or she wasn't focused on little things such as that. She had dimples, as well as a small, line of a scar by her right ear, which housed a little silver ball earring.

"Hello?

It took him a moment to snap back to reality, and he felt his face heat up as she gave him another little smile, along with a giggle. How long had he been staring at her? God, he hoped not that long.

"Sorry," he mumbled, running a hand through his soup-drenched hair. "I'm Sherlock."

"So you've told me," she said in a humorous tone, and Sherlock almost slapped his palm against his forehead, to his relief she simply laughed.

"Good to meet you then," she said, and then her chocolate eyes traveled over the mess that had once been cafeteria floor. Tomato soup and smashed pieces of grilled cheese were now displayed this way and that, "Should we… clean this up?" she questioned, but he shook his head. "Mrs. Hudson will take care of it."

He looked at her for another long moment before realizing that it wasn't polite to deduce during a conversation, and so he reached his hand into his pocket and dug out his wallet. "Let me buy you some lunch."

"No, really, I'm alright." said Molly with a little grin, "I wasn't too hungry anyways, at least not for dumpster food."

Sherlock grinned, counting through his bills "I didn't mean school lunch." He said, and then dug his hand into his other pocket to pull out a ring of keys, "Shall we get take out?"

She blushed at the offer, and something about the action made Sherlock feel strangely good. Of course, the car was Mycroft's, but his brother would get over it.

Until that moment, he had never felt the things that were called "hormones", but now he understood why other teens found them so hard to resist. It wasn't just that though, something about Molly was just-different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but in time he hoped he would. That is- if they became friends, which he wouldn't mind in the least.

"You sure?" she questioned, and Sherlock could easily admit that he was not sure, not about any of this. But he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Obviously."

/

My first Sherlolly fic, as well as one shot!

So, I don't think I have enough plot bunnies to turn this into a full-fledged multi chapter fic. However, I wouldn't be too opposed to make it into a Sherlolly one shot compilation! So, if you've got any ideas for upcoming one shots, any corrective criticism, or just a comment in general, by all means review! Thanks for reading!

-Infinityscripts