17th December

It's the last lesson of the day and I don't think anyone will be coming here right now, unless they stab themselves with a pen. For a first day in a new work it was rather hectic.

One broken arm, two concussions, few cuts and one rather interesting burn.

See, Ella? Something interesting actually happened while I was trying to calm down a panicked girl, who thought she was pregnant. She wasn't. Thanks god.

But anyway. What happened was bizarre enough for me to wish to be back in the war zone.

Just when the girl decided she is calm enough to leave, the door opened and one of my colleagues walked in. Her name is Molly Hooper and she is a nice girl. We talked in the morning and she told me she is keeping a blog as well.

We swapped links so maybe she is reading this as well.

Isn't that great? I have two readers.

And one of them is my psychiatrist. Hi Ella!

Just for the record, Molly is nice and the bizarre thing that happened had (almost) nothing to do with her.

So. Molly comes in, looking panicked. I send the girl who isn't pregnant back to her class and Molly tells me she has a patient who got burned and refuses to come, so if I maybe could follow her and have a look at him.

I agree. It's my job helping the students.

The problem is, it's not a student. It's a professor. I think someone told me he teaches the physics. Was it Mike?

Not important.

Sherlock Holmes. The professor. Yes, Ella? He is your man. You should invite him over for a cuppa. I am not sure who would end up analyzing whom, though.

When we came, he was holding some test-tube filled with something looking like an acid. His whole left hand was angrily red, burned? That's what was Molly talking about? It didn't look particularly nice.

I will try to retell the situations exactly how it happened:

When Molly entered, pulling me behind her, the professor looked up. Not at her, but at me. I felt as if I was being X-rayed.

"Oh, Molly!" his eyes quickly darted at her, almost absently, before he turned his attention to his test-tubes. "I sent you to get me a coffee and you return with a man."

And that's how he is. Arrogant, witty, irritating. But fascinating. So fascinating. And I think Molly knows that as well, because she is the one trying to take care of him. Not that she has any success.

"Yes. This is Dr. Watson." she chirped and smiled. It didn't look very genuine (sorry, Molly), it looked more as if she was nervous and smiling was the only thing she could do.

"I know." Sherlock gave me fleeting look and very dishonest half-smile, before looking back down at his 'experiment'. "The doctor seems to be wearing a name tag."

That caught me off guard and I looked down at my jumper to make sure, even though I knew I was wearing it. That's what makes him so fascinating – he makes me do the weirdest things. Because this is not all. We kept on 'talking'.

Well, he kept on talking and I was forced to listen.

"The new doctor, ex-soldier from Afghanistan, lost his comrades and got shot. The shoulder I would presume by the way his left hand is shaking when I talk about war. Psychosomatic limp."

Molly somehow managed to slip away, obviously hoping I would be able to solve it myself.

Thanks Molly.

I just hope no one came to find a doctor while I was away, trying to talk professor Holmes into letting me look at his injury. Another thing to say about him – he is childish.

He refused to let me see his wounds until his experiment is completed. So naturally, I got to help him. Cheers. Oh – we put the lab on fire as well.

But he is kind of brilliant, isn't he? Knowing all those things about me – he even knew I had a sibling (from my phone). Only, he thought it's a brother, since we all call Harriet 'Harry'.

Oh, yeah, Ella – he cured my limp. How, you ask me?

Easy. We managed to make the experiment implode or something, destroying the lab and needed to.. well.. keep ourselves away from the principal for a bit.

And Sherlock's way of hiding is obviously running around the school, playing hide and seek with our employers. And other teachers and students. We even hid in a lecture room, trying to look like students, but failing miserably, because we kept on giggling every time the professor mentioned 'fire' or 'chemistry' or physical laws.

And right after then, when he rather gallantly escorted me to the infirmary and finally let me clean and cover his wounds, I realized I left my cane in the lab.

So, that's it, Ella. That was my first day in my new work. And you know what? You were right. I should have done this much, much sooner.

For the first time since I returned to London I am actually looking forward the next morning.

I will try to write again tomorrow, when I get back from work.

Review? :) Pretty please?

Anyway, it's 17th December, I have only 4 more days - I don't think the story will be finished in time.

Smile.