"Shoulders up, head back, Molly," I chided myself, trying my best to not look like a scared wimp on her first day of university. Which, in fact, is the truth.

Glancing at my schedule for the third time in five minutes, I concluded that yes, my first class of the day is still biology in the science wing. Making my way through a cloud of people, the scope of the situation suddenly hit me like a blow - I'm actually at university! Alone, without knowing anyone except my roommate! My gosh. Ditching class suddenly seem like such an appealing idea.

After a few deep breaths, I managed to calm myself down enough to start walking towards the direction of what I think is the science wing. Unfortunately, about five hundred other people also had the same idea as I did, and I was like a tadpole swimming against the current. A guy suddenly bumped into me, which is inevitable, I suppose, in a place like this, but he said nothing more than "watch it," and looked at me with an accusing look with those eyes.

Those eyes were almost indescribable. Like the color of a clear summer sky with a dash of sparkling cider, but they also had a calculating aura behind the surface.

Shaking myself loose of an uncomfortable feeling, I realized that he had walked off already without any form of an apology.

"Jerk," I muttered under my breath, hopes diminishing of meeting nice people.

"Come on!" I heard someone in the distance shout, "We're going to be late for creative writing!"

Creative writing?! I thought this was the science wing!

"Dammit!" I shouted, upon the realization that I had stumbled into the wrong building, causing several glances to be casted my way. Ignoring them, I began to run out and into the neighboring, the correct, building.

I walked into class two minutes late, right in the middle of a sentence the professor was speaking. I flushed pink.

"I- I'm sorry. I got lost."

"Take a seat, Miss...?"

"-Hooper," I answered and took the first empty seat I saw, which was in the third row, cheeks still pink.

"As I was explaining before Miss Hooper bursted in, these will be your seats for the first semester, since you all got to choose your own," Mr. Allenston, as I learned from the chalkboard, continued talking.

I frowned at the notion, as for the fact I grabbed the first chair I saw. I didn't even know who was in the seat beside me at the lab table. Looking beside to see exactly whom I happened upon, I realized the person was studying me with those clear-sky-cider eyes as the guy I bumped into. Actually... hold on, it is him! Oh, great, out of everyone in the entire school, I chanced upon the enigmatic asshole. Accidentally meeting his eyes, I quickly looked away.

Maybe I should try to turn this around, make a better impression, seeing as we are going to be partners for a semester. I turned to face him again, "Hi, I'm Molly," I whispered in a low voice, trying not to be overheard by the Professor.

"I know," he replied curtly.

"What your name? Not to pry or anything, you now, seeing that we're gonna be partners for a while," I said, as his eyes flicked up to meet mine again.

"Going to," he corrected.

"What?"

"Not 'gonna', it's 'going to'. And I know enough about you, there's no need for this exchange."

"What are you talking about? I don't even know your name and you think you have my life laid out?" Who does this person think he is?!

"Sherlock Holmes is the name, and the power of deduction and observation is often useful at times like these when conversation is not needed to know about the person in perspective." He turned back to face the professor to feign interest but continued speaking quietly, "I know that you are nervous about the first day of university from the slight tremor in your left index finger and your cautious body language. You had a powdered doughnut for breakfast. You fixed yourself up especially careful to look extra decent today, but you're clearly not experienced with applying makeup, but still attempted to. You also do not like to style your hair or manage much of it, seeing from the split-ends. You probably took some form of ballet when you were younger, seeing from your posture and feet positioning. Need I go on?"

"I - how in the world?!"

"Miss Hooper! Is there something you'd like to share with the class?" Mr. Allenston interrupted, striding up the aisle.

"She was merely instructing me to pay attention, Professor," Sherlock said, covering for me.

The professor took the excuse suspiciously, but let the whole endeavour go and continued lecturing.

Did Sherlock Holmes just save my skin?

Hey guys, thanks for cracking this open and reading it. :D This is my first Sherlock fanfic, so it might be a little bit out of character. Also, I am not in university, so all the class stuff and curriculum are made up. Critiques and comments are welcome! I think I'm going to go with a little more characterization before introducing the case and murder.