Here is the long-awaited Sherlock story that I mentioned to you all last year. (Yes, yes, I'm aware it's been that long.) But without further ado here it is! Hope you enjoy!
It was a nice day, perfect for drawing, what with the sunshine and soft breeze. It was comforting to me, I still missed home and my mother and father.
England was so different than America.
But then again I suppose this was home now. my parents had made it quite clear that this was better than moving around all over the place with them. My father was a world-renowned archeologist and my mother an appraiser of fine arts of all kinds, so I had grown up in museums and dig sites all over the world and I loved it. Mother said I was a prodigy and father said I would outsmart the both of them one day.
I didn't understand it - all I did was look at paintings.
I memorized the brushstrokes of most well-known painters and several more obscure ones too, I'd always been able to tell if what I was looking at was real or a fake. It didn't seem like that big of a deal but apparently, it wasn't an easy thing to do. I just always knew what I was looking at and that was enough for me.
So mother had suggested I stay with Aunt Tabitha and Uncle James when their travel picked up, well more like she said that was what was to happen I had very little choice in the matter. I didn't even see them much at all as I was put in a boarding school, so I wouldn't really see them or my cousin Isaac until summer break. He was really the only thing that excited me about living here, I loved spending time with Isaac and I was looking forward to summer when I could.
As it were, I was trying to make the best of this new school and was outside under the shade of a large tree when taunting voices and mocking laughter ruined the nice silence I had been lazing in. Glancing up I frowned. They were at it again.
Maybe it was because he was alone like I was, or maybe it was because I hate bullies but either way I picked myself up off the ground where I had been working on my latest drawing for my cousin and quickly walked over to the small group of kids that had gathered around the aloof-looking boy that I shared all my classes with. I'm not sure why but everyone seemed to live on picking on him, and today they were being especially nasty. All I caught was the word freak and I decided that I needed to do something.
Nearing them I called out, "Hey! If you're going to be stupid do it somewhere else, I was enjoying the quiet."
All of them snapped round to look at me and after a second the leader of the group stepped forward, a sneer on his face.
"Oh look, everyone, it's the little American! Come to defend the other freak have you?"
I hadn't fit in well here, perhaps it was due to my strange accent which was a mix of my mother's proper British one and my father's abrasive American one. Whatever it was I wasn't well liked and hadn't made any friends so far.
Glaring at him I said, "I just think it's sad you feel the need to open your mouth and let out whatever idiotic thing wanders through it."
The look on his face, as well as the shocked look on all the others', was well worth getting up for.
"Why you uncultured little…"
Just as he started to take a menacing step forward one of the teachers sent an icy glare our way and the group began to disperse before we all got in trouble. Sighing as they left, I wondered if this was how the rest of my school year would go. I started off back towards my tree when a voice from behind stopped me.
"He cries himself to sleep every night because he misses his mummy and then he goes and teases about that very thing. How pathetic."
I turned around to look at the boy who I had stood up for and smiled a bit. He was rather short with very curly brown hair and large odd blue eyes, like he knew too much and he was keenly aware of it, but wouldn't change it for the world.
I tilted my head and studied him, trying to figure out why he looked so sad.
"Do you miss your mum?"
His eyes grew wide and then he twisted his face up in a scowl.
"Do I miss my mum? Of course not, I'm not a baby!"
He was lying, I could tell. Mother had showed me how to spot a liar when I was very little because she dealt with them all the time, people trying to pass fakes off as artifacts but she knew better not only because she could see the difference but because she could always tell when someone was lying. The number one thing she always said indicated someone was lying was to repeat the question in some way - something he had just done.
I smiled at him and took a step closer.
"It's okay, I miss my mother too. They sent me here to live with my aunt and uncle."
He wrinkled his nose but didn't say anything about the first part of my comment, instead choosing to respond to the second half.
"Your mother is British isn't she? And your father is American, from somewhere in the south, Tennessee I presume. Both of them work in the fine arts field and they travel a lot, too much to see you often anymore."
I felt my mouth fall open. How did he guess that?
"How did y-"
He cut me off, narrowing his eyes as he took a few steps towards me, studying me closer.
"Your bracelets, they're traditional Indian bangles, real ones. Only a mother - or a grandmother, but mother is more likely - would have picked out colors that held meaning, so she must be well versed in different cultures."
My eyes darted down to look at the bangles, he was right the colors did have a special meaning. Mother had given them to me the day they left me here. The silver was for strength, the purple for independence, and the green for luck, along with several gold ones.
He paused as if in thought before continuing with a gleam in his eyes.
"Fine arts… so an appraiser of artifacts specializing in jewelry then?"
And once more he was right, at least in part. My mother knew lots about everything but she did love and know the most about jewelry.
"And the stone in your necklace is…"
He leaned forward to get a better look at the rough rock pendant my dad had given me and after a moment his eyes lit up and he grinned at me, though it was more a smug smirk rather than a smile to win my approval.
"Ha! It's obviously Mediterranean, so Greece or Italy as those are the only likely spots. Which only leads to reason that your father is an archeologist as it is obviously from a dig site! And you are an artist if your ink and graphite stained hands are anything to go off of, so following in their footsteps in a way."
He crossed his arms, and though he looked pleased there was something in his eyes that looked almost worried too.
I blinked a few time and then slowly a large grin crossed my face.
"That was amazing! All of that was right, even down to the state my dad is from! How did you do that?"
For a split second he seemed surprised and then a small self-satisfied smile appeared on his face.
"I suppose it is rather amazing isn't it?"
Just as I was about to ask him again how he knew all of that a thought came to me and I frowned.
"That's why they pick on you isn't it? Because you're smarter than all of them."
He glared off in the direction that his tormentors had gone.
"Yes, stupid the lot of them! Maybe if they applied themselves to anything more than being complete fools then…no I would still be smarter than them even then! They might just be worse than my brother, if that's even possible."
I was getting the sense he didn't get along with his brother very well.
Breaking the silence, I looked at him and raised a brow.
"I was beginning to think everyone here is either stupid or just so stupid they think they're smart. It's nice to know I was wrong."
A funny grin pulled at his lips.
"I'm Sherlock, you don't seem as painfully dense as everyone else."
I wondered if I should take offense but thought better of it as I realized I might have just made a friend.
Smirking I stuck out my hand as I said, "I'm Annalise, you don't seem as completely boring as everyone else."
He looked at my hand for a second and just as I thought he wasn't going to accept, he grabbed it and we shook hands.
"Annalise."
He said my name as if testing out how it sounded, stretching it out slowly, so I did the same thing to his.
"Sherlock."
He met my eyes sharply, almost like he didn't know what to do now so I smiled at him.
"Call me Anna, I like that better. Can I sit with you? The light is better over here now."
Sherlock nodded after a moment's deliberation and we both sat under his tree, me with my sketchpad and him with his book.
I got the feeling that perhaps I wouldn't be so lonely now that I had someone, and decided then and there that Sherlock and I would be friends.
Maybe this school wouldn't be so bad after all.
So that's our take on little Sherlock. We have so so so much more to come and it's going to be an interesting ride!
What? Our? We? Who am I referring to you ask?
My partner in crime, chapter naming extraordinaire, person who never sleeps, beautiful old soul, blackbelt-that-could-kill-you-with-a-single-stare-but-would-most-likely-cry-if-she-even-hurt-a-bug, future counselor, sloth-a-phobe (they are pretty creepy admit it), feels things deeper than the freaking Mariana Trench, rabid fan of most things old and British, incredibly loud when excited, and fellow writing mastermind, Compass of Grace!
Also known as Hannah, my sister, and best friend. We are guilty of doing everything together and this story is no different. She's sorta shy and this is the first bit of writing she's posted publicly before. All constructive criticism is, as always, appreciated. And just like in the past, if you've got questions, ideas, theories, or predictions, feel free to reach out to either or both of us. We'll be sharing this account but all reviews and PM's will make it to her as well. I couldn't write this without her and I think you're going to love what we come up with! From now on bolded italics with be her and I'll stay in regular font. So to tell you a bit about herself and the inception of this story, my sister!
Hey everyone, there are a lot of you out there and I confess this is all a little bit daunting. Alex (aka my sister, person who can't get rid of me, potential future maid of honor (if that ever happens… I am very single)) has been trying for the better part of two years to get this up and going, but we're both in school and trying to actually get life rolling to a place we want to be in.
The concept of writing all started when I was little, with my younger brother and I mapping out a vast imaginary world of Webkinz. But that ended years ago. Fast forward to Christmas night in 2016 - Alex and I had eaten too many of my mom's cookies and were literally wired. We had to be somewhere early the next morning and were whispering in the dark about Sherlock. "Wouldn't it be funny if," and "Yeah, then _ could happen," - eventually we found ourselves acting out the voices.
I'm an INFJ, (she is an ENTP and therefore someone I really mix well with) so intuition and reading how people think and feel comes very naturally to me. This took over the sugar high-ed stupor of idiocy and I was doing the voice of John. I was damn good at it. I could pull him off. (And I took to being Sherlock much too well to be healthy…) Things spiraled from there.
Super excited to finally be meeting you all!
I know this was long but we're just so excited! So ready for summer and unlimited writing time!
Thanks for reading, let us know what you think!
