"If we're going to be lab partners, let's get something straight; I do the work, and you stand there and let me think, alright?" Even as he spoke, Sherlock adjusted his microscope, slid in the first specimen, and began taking notes.
"Are you sure you don't need any…?" John took the boy's fierce look as affirmation that he indeed did not. He picked up his own pencil and began doodling absentmindedly.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock snapped up from his work to stare at John. His icy eyes bore into him, but with curiosity this time.
"Er… nothing. Sketching, I suppose." His ears suddenly heated, and he couldn't help but stare directly into his eyes.
Sherlock leaned across the table to glimpse the boy's work, but he reched it away before he got the chance. "What is it?"
"N-nothing. It doesn't matter. I thought you wanted to work, anyway."
"I've finished." He said simply, still trying to view the drawing.
"Already? That took you, what? Five minutes? Everyone else is only just starting."
Sherlock shrugged, "I'm quicker. But what have you drawn, John, let me see!" he reached until his full torso was lying across the desk and snatched it up.
"Give it back!" John shouted, bouncing slightly on the tips of his toes, striving to reach the illustration his lab partner now held above his head.
But it was no use; Sherlock held the now slightly crumpled paper to the light and frowned. "Is this supposed to be me?" It was a cartoon of a large headed version of Sherlock complete with fangs, horns, and blood dripping from his gapping mouth.
John opened his mouth to apologize, but all that escaped was a burst of laughter. His hands flew up to muffle the noise, but the damage was done. Sherlock glowered at him before marching out of the classroom, res faced. He told himself he wasn't bothered, and that this incident was no worse than anything else his classmates had done to him, but tears had already begun to form.