JUST A ONE SHOT BASICALLY. SET IN PRIMARY SCHOOL. FEEL FREE TO CRITICIZE IF I GET FACTS WRONG. :) I DON'T KNOW ANY BACKGROUND HISTORY FOR JW OR SH.
I DON'T OWN THESE CHARACTERS, ALL CREDIT TO ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE OR BBC.
Sherlock Holmes stood alone in the corner of the playground. It was his least favourite part of the miserable day he was expected to enjoy as educational. It was miserable due to several thousand factors, but he skipped through these and delved into his mind palace. He skipped through some boring facts about how many metaphorical sheep the teacher (a Mr Preston) had added to another number of metaphorical cows before he was rudely interrupted by a voice. Not bothering to open his eyes, he mumbled irritably.
"What do you want?"
"That's not very nice!" Sherlock opened his eyes slowly. The boy was his own age. Scruffy, but well fed and smiling- middle class. His jumper was from Marks and Spencers suggesting his mum or dad had got it for him- kids got too bored at M&S so parents rarely took them twice. Unbrushed hair- probably due to rushing this morning when he spilled his cereal, hence the milk stain on his left trouser leg. He'd evidently put the jumper on in a rush, so the label stuck out at the back. 'John Watson'. He looked back at the boy.
"Hello, I am Sherlock Holmes. You are John Watson." Sherlock said lazily.
"How do you know my name?" John was confused. "Did someone tell you?"
"It's on your jumper label." He smirked as John attempted to crane his neck and spot the offending item.
"Was your cereal nice?" Sherlock asked sweetly. He enjoyed this. Most children now actively avoided him because of it. Actually, so did parents. Well, ever since he revealed Mandy Elbert's mother was having an affair with-
"How did you know I had cereal?!" John exploded suddenly. The time lag had only been a seconds, but Sherlock's thought process was so fast that it felt like hours.
"You've got milk on your trousers, I can also see that your mum was working this morning- you've got a lipstick smudge on your forehead where she kissed you goodbye, so you didn't brush your hair- probably because you prefer her doing it but maybe there's a rebellious streak- your dad ran late so you rushed, spilling your cereal. When you got to school you were scared. Dad left you quickly and now you don't know anyone- naturally you approached the other new kid, the one on his own like you- but I'm not new. I've been here since I was four and I'm actually just a freak that scares people off by knowing everything about them." He paused and turned his head away, waiting for the crying, the shaking or the backing away before sprinting.
"Wow." He turned back to look at John. He was standing, grinning up at him in awe. Sherlock was confused. After all, his trick was supposed to scare off not impress.
"You got one bit wrong though."
"What?" Sherlock was horrified, he went back over his facts. Correct surely?
"It wasn't my dad who dropped me off. It was my Grandpa." John smiled and crossed his arms. "He's a soldier! One day I'm going to be just like him and go and fight."
"Wonderful." Sherlock grimaced. How had he got that bit wrong? It would be as simple as checking the face that came to collect John at the end of the day. Suddenly, the bell rang and he was forced back into the hot, stuffy classroom.