CHAPTER 1
No one knows who sends the letters; The letters with the name of your soulmate. No one knows who, or how this existential force is, or how it determines when you are ready to receive your letter. All we know is that everyone, at some point around the age of 15-17 gets a letter containing the name of your soulmate; only the first name. This makes finding The One a bit daunting.
Sherlock Holmes, received his letter at 15. The envelope was a crisp white, sealed with a red wax glob, and the seal of a great lion imprinted upon it. He opened the letter impatiently, yet with care, extracting the seemingly fragile parchment. In beautiful calligraphy,was scrawled the name John. Sherlock stared at the parchment discontentedly. How on earth was he going to find the right John? He grimaced and stuffed the parchment back into the envelope, and crammed it in his desk drawer. "Sherlock! You'll be late!" His mother's voice almost burned his ears. Glaring he stood up, grabbing his bag and stomping downstairs. He hurried out the door, and jogged down the street trying to get to school. He had left an experiment in the lab, with permission from his chemistry professor and was excited to see his results. He hurried down the path and wasn't paying much attention, and collided with someone, causing him to drop his folder full of data. "Ugh! Watch it you idiot!" He shouted. The curly headed boy shot his icy blue eyes at the blond, simple boy whom he had just run into. "What? You ran into me you git!" He shouted back. Without retorting, Sherlock bent down to gather up his papers. The blond boy knelt down and helped. "What are you helping for?" Sherlock hissed. "It's called being polite, a concept you clearly don't comprehend." The blond boy spat back, shoving the papers into the arms of the curly headed boy. The blond boy glared at Sherlock one last time before walking to his original destination.
With a huff, Sherlock walked to the lab, excitedly rushing to one of the hoods in the corner where his experiment was stored. Carefully Sherlock cradled the petri dish over to the microscope and peered down the neck to observe his project. "Oh wow! Mr. Rubright, you were right about the temperature change! Just one degree more made the bacteria reproduce at incredible rates!" the young boy marveled at the concoction, mouth gaping in amazement. "Yeah, it grew pretty fast for that kind of bacteria. Oh Sherlock, do you have those lab reports for the bioluminescence project?"
Sherlock Peered up from the microscope to nudge his head to the file by his bag. "It's all in there, and you'll have to do some searching, some stupid twat ran into me and knocked it all out of my hands." He said cynically. "Was it Jonas again?" Mr. Rubright inquired, shuffling through the pile of impressive papers. "Nah, some blond kid. Never seen him before, but i could tell he'd just moved here, because he didn't…" Sherlock trailed off, partly because he was focused on his bacteria, but mostly because he was was going to point out the lack of belittling remarks he heard from the boy. Nearly everyone in the school had something bad to say about Sherlock, the ones that didn't say it to his face claimed they "didn't want to get to close." The professor steppe over to the table where the mop of ebony curls still hunched over the microscope. "Yeah, I heard the school was getting a new student...Er, Watson I think his name is."
'Doesn't matter what his name is, give him a day or two and he'll be like the rest. He seemed that type." Sherlock huffed.
After the bell rang, Sherlock reluctantly gathered his things and headed to class. He flopped in his seat in the back, and stared sourly out the window, counting down every second until the end of the day. "Alright class, today we have a new student with us, John Watson. He just moved so make him feel welcome!" The teacher shouted. She looked at the young boy and scanned the room and then pointed at the always empty seat next top Sherlock. "Go on and sit there." John shuffled to the back, dreading the inevitable encounter. He flopped in the seat and dropped his bag, glaring at the boy he had met earlier that morning. Sherlock glared out of the corner of his eye and rolled them dramatically; making it well known he wanted nothing to do with this, John Watson boy.
The lunch bell rang, and not a moment too soon. Sherlock grabbed up his things and tried to bolt for the door. "Hey!" He heard the blond boy's voice call out. Sherlock stopped and sloppily turned on his heel to face him. "What?" He spat angrily, John glared and scoffed "So I see you've just got a shit attitude no matter what, Great. Never mind." He said, shoving past Sherlock, bumping his shoulder. Sherlock shook his head and stormed away to the lab. On his way he saw John talking to a group of boys who hated Sherlock in particular. He knew it, not even a full day and he was already against him.