a/n If someone wants to actually write the dance scene, just ask me- I created too much crazy for my brain to handle there. Irene is probably not going to be in any more of my stories unless I decide I have significant need of her because for some reason, I just have no desire to write with her character. This is their sophomore year.
Disclaimer: I don't own it! Stop asking me!
Sherlock walked through the halls disgusted. He hated this time of year. Valentine's Day, he shuddered. Everything is pink and red and it'is all confetti and hearts and teddy bears and roses and chocolates and More Bloody Hearts. And every female in the world goes absolutely romance-crazy. People spend way too much money on flowers that will die in two weeks, and chocolates that the women eat, and then complain about getting fat. They get drunk and do ridiculous things and everyone is even stupider than usual. And that's just the couples! Those who are single turn depressed and mopey and suicidal and are possibly even more annoying than the couples!
But this wasn't what Sherlock hated the most. Valentine's day also meant a certain event that Sherlock detested with every fiber in his body: the Valentine's Day Dance. Every year, Mummy Holmes nagged him about finding a nice young girl to go to the dance with. Mycroft did as well, but more to see Sherlock cringe than anything. The people at school teased him about it- which never bothered him, but the repetitiveness was exceptionally annoying. At least John only put in an odd tease here and there, but Sherlock never minded that- partly because it was John, and partly because he didn't do it frequently enough to be annoying. The worst part, though, was that Sherlock had to deal with annoying idiot girls who were under the impression that he wasn't really like everybody said he was , and that if they were cute enough, he would feel something for them. And, of course, when he told them differently, he was scolded by John for making girls cry. There was no winning for Sherlock at this time of year.
The day before the dance, a girl walked over to their lunch table and sat down in front of Sherlock. She was pretty, and the sly smirk on her features seemed too suitable for her face, as though she wore it often. Irene, wasn't it? Sherlock just knew what was going to come out of her mouth before she said it and was already mentally preparing himself to be yelled at by John for the second time that day,when she raised up a hand to cut him off.
"I have a proposition for you, and before you immediately say no, you will let me speak and will not interrupt me until I have finished. Is that clear? Good. My friends way over behind me-they're probably all looking this way- have taken a comment I meant to be sarcastic and a joke, and have obviously misinterpreted it or severely overanalyzed it. So they have bet me that I can't get you to take me to the dance tomorrow. Don't interrupt. I have the money to pay them, of course, but I would prefer to gain rather than to loose, so here I am. I don't like you, so you have no need to fear me going crazy and thinking it meant something. However, I do find you both interesting and amusing. It's always a highlight of my day to watch you completely confuse or embarrass somebody. What I'm proposing involves you doing nothing more than sitting at a table, taking advantage of the free food, with me, making fun of people either to their face or behind their back. Since my mother is forcing me to go anyway, I figure that at least this way I will be entertained.
"And the benefits to you? Everyone will leave off the annoying teasing, and- and this is the best part- just think of the look on Anderson's face." She continued smirking and waited for Sherlock's answer. Sherlock took some time to weigh the hassle of not only actually going to the dance, but going with someone, against the benefits of seeing Anderson's face. Thenn he noticed that John was staring at him with the oddest expression on his face.
"What, John?"
"I'm trying to figure out whether I want you to agree or not. I don't even want to imagine the chaos you could cause because of this. But I'm already going with Sarah, and you would definately make things interesting. And seeing other people's reactions at you doing something that's so completely not you would be great. Forget Anderson's face, can you imagine Mycroft's reaction? Plus, he does say every year that if I manage to get you to even go to the stupid event he'll give me a hundred quid. Do you think he'd double it if you went with someone? I'd split it with you, of course."
Sherlock considered it a bit more. "Alright."
The next night did not go well, at least for everyone that was not Sherlock. If you were Sherlock, then your night was a successful night involving: annoying and shocking several people (including Anderson and Mycroft), outing two male teachers who were having an affair (in front of their wives and several students), an experiment on the punch that made at least three people puke, telling six people that their partners were cheating on them, nearly causing the stage to collapse, and a dazzling display of fireworks. If you were John, Sarah, or Irene, then your night involved: laughing at shocked people, embarrassment for the people Sherlock made deductions about, anger at Sherlock for his lack of propriety (although that one wasn't so much for Irene), disgust at the puking, anger at Sherlock again, a lot of anger towards Sherlock, and finally, extremely stunned disbelief. If you were none of the above, well I think you can imagine for yourself.
Sherlock was suspended for the next week (Mycroft's influence), and the school never had another Valentine's Day Dance again. And all was well.