A/N
Once again I'm claiming I have no ownership of anything, though both Damien and Shelley are basically my creation. All my plots are indirectly Mr. Doyle's, so I really have no right to them either, just the embellishments. And once again I claim that Damien looks like Orlando Bloom with out the LotR makeup and I'm thinking Shelley might look like Natalie Portman. That's just the author's opinion, so whatever. If you read it, please review!
THANK YOU
As I sat in the cafeteria, a figure suddenly dropped down across the table from me.
"What are you up to?"
I looked up. The pronunciation sounded more like "wut ah yah op tah". That was to be expected considering the speaker was British.
"Finishing my English assignment," I said as I shoved a cup of coffee across the table to the occupant, "there I got a cup of poison for you."
A handsome young Brit softly smiled his appreciation, and accepted the black sludge he called coffee. I never could understand how he could drink it like that. I'd known Damien 'Sherlock' Holmes for almost two months now. In that amount of time I had gotten closer to him than probably anyone else on campus, and for good reason. Sherlock was arrogant, misanthropic, rude, and carried around a distinctly superior quality. He was also an intelligent, humorous, fiercely loyal individual who was probably more wounded on the inside than anyone else I'd ever met. Not to mention he was incredibly handsome. Tousled brown hair, highly defined cheekbones, and a gorgeous smile when he decided to use it, if he didn't have such an austere image he could have owned the campus women wise. But he didn't, preferring to lock himself in his dorm room or go to the library to study. I was probably the first real friend he'd had around here, and he only accepted me because I hadn't given up on him. Oh, he'd tried to get rid of me at first, but when I wasn't as put off as everyone else and I showed that I was reasonably intelligent, he gave in and let me into his world. So much so that I know the rumor on campus about us was that we were dating, which wasn't true. Though I wouldn't have been adverse to that.
"You busy on Thursday?" I asked, "I've got a calculus test and I could use the help."
"Yeah, I'm free"
Suddenly Sherlock's cell phone went off.
"Odd," he said as he raised the phone to his ear, "I don't know that number."
The person on the other end of the line must have been talking rapidly because Sherlock didn't say anything for quite some time.
"All right," he said finally, "come by my dorm room later."
He pulled the phone away with a slightly puzzled look, as if the other party had hung up on him.
"Strange, someone just called me and said they had an emergency they thought I could help them with."
He still looked a little bewildered, then he pushed the dial back button on the phone.
"Yes," he said, "is this the sports center. Oh, it's not? I see. Thank you."
He looked over at me, a slight smile quirked on his face.
"It was placed from a frat house," he said.
"Really?"
"If you're willing to get involved I think you could help me dig up a little scandal and see what this may be all about."
I gave him a wicked smile.
"Scandal? Really, that's my middle name."
Once again I'm claiming I have no ownership of anything, though both Damien and Shelley are basically my creation. All my plots are indirectly Mr. Doyle's, so I really have no right to them either, just the embellishments. And once again I claim that Damien looks like Orlando Bloom with out the LotR makeup and I'm thinking Shelley might look like Natalie Portman. That's just the author's opinion, so whatever. If you read it, please review!
THANK YOU
As I sat in the cafeteria, a figure suddenly dropped down across the table from me.
"What are you up to?"
I looked up. The pronunciation sounded more like "wut ah yah op tah". That was to be expected considering the speaker was British.
"Finishing my English assignment," I said as I shoved a cup of coffee across the table to the occupant, "there I got a cup of poison for you."
A handsome young Brit softly smiled his appreciation, and accepted the black sludge he called coffee. I never could understand how he could drink it like that. I'd known Damien 'Sherlock' Holmes for almost two months now. In that amount of time I had gotten closer to him than probably anyone else on campus, and for good reason. Sherlock was arrogant, misanthropic, rude, and carried around a distinctly superior quality. He was also an intelligent, humorous, fiercely loyal individual who was probably more wounded on the inside than anyone else I'd ever met. Not to mention he was incredibly handsome. Tousled brown hair, highly defined cheekbones, and a gorgeous smile when he decided to use it, if he didn't have such an austere image he could have owned the campus women wise. But he didn't, preferring to lock himself in his dorm room or go to the library to study. I was probably the first real friend he'd had around here, and he only accepted me because I hadn't given up on him. Oh, he'd tried to get rid of me at first, but when I wasn't as put off as everyone else and I showed that I was reasonably intelligent, he gave in and let me into his world. So much so that I know the rumor on campus about us was that we were dating, which wasn't true. Though I wouldn't have been adverse to that.
"You busy on Thursday?" I asked, "I've got a calculus test and I could use the help."
"Yeah, I'm free"
Suddenly Sherlock's cell phone went off.
"Odd," he said as he raised the phone to his ear, "I don't know that number."
The person on the other end of the line must have been talking rapidly because Sherlock didn't say anything for quite some time.
"All right," he said finally, "come by my dorm room later."
He pulled the phone away with a slightly puzzled look, as if the other party had hung up on him.
"Strange, someone just called me and said they had an emergency they thought I could help them with."
He still looked a little bewildered, then he pushed the dial back button on the phone.
"Yes," he said, "is this the sports center. Oh, it's not? I see. Thank you."
He looked over at me, a slight smile quirked on his face.
"It was placed from a frat house," he said.
"Really?"
"If you're willing to get involved I think you could help me dig up a little scandal and see what this may be all about."
I gave him a wicked smile.
"Scandal? Really, that's my middle name."