CHAPTER SIX

"Hey. You. Are you new here?" John looked up from his vocabulary sheet to see a girl poking him with her eraser. John looked up to see Madame Brown erasing the whiteboard. Safe in conversation, he turned back to the girl. She was very pretty, with flowing brown hair, big eyes, and a revealing neckline.

"Um, yeah. I'm John."

"I'm Lisa," she smiled shyly. "I noticed you were late to class. That's pretty brave of you. Madame Brown is usually pretty hard on tardies." She smiled again. "I like brave guys."

"Um," John said. His previous girlfriend, Katherine, had been acquired over the summer at a nerdy summer camp. He had no experience whatsoever with advances from females at school. He felt a bit like a fish on land.

"Want to go out after school? Get a snack or something?"

"Um, sure."

"What's your locker number? I'll meet you there after the last bell."

"Uh, 221B."

"Great!" The bell rang. Lisa gathered her things and headed for the door. As she left, she turned to wink at John. "It's a date."

John paid special attention to Ms. Brealey in English class, carefully observing her teaching methods, her mannerisms, even eyeing her desk looking for clues. At the end of class, an idea struck him, and he hurried up to her as she erased the board.

"Um, Ms. Brealey?"

"Yes, John?" she replied, pausing with the eraser in her hand, looking at him inquisitively.

"I was just, um, wondering when the test would be?"

"Next Friday, John, I said so yesterday."

"Oh, thank you!" He hurried out of the room.

"I found something?" he announced proudly to Sherlock at their lunch table. Sherlock barely looked up from his mobile phone. "Really?"

"Yes. I stopped by Ms. Brealey after class. I distracted her with a question, and I got a good look at her right hand. You're right – there are flecks of yellow paint under her fingernails!"

"Well," Sherlock sighed, "that is certainly a clever observation, but it merely confirms what we already deduced."

"At least we're certain now," John defended himself.

"I was certain before," Sherlock replied, "but I still appreciate it nonetheless. Regardless, we must move this case along before I get bored. We'll go around after school today."

"I can't – I have a date."

"What?" Sherlock whipped his head up, finally fully engaged in the conversation.

"You know, it's when two people who like each other go and do things."

"That's what I was suggesting," Sherlock muttered dryly.

"Not like that, Sherlock, you know…"

"Who's your date?"

"This girl from my French class named Lisa."

"Oh." And just like that, Sherlock turned back to his mobile, intent upon the screen. He started jotting things down in a notebook.

"So…" John said, trying to break the silence, "You got any dates coming up? Anyone special in your life?"

"I alone have enough special for this entire county, John."

"That's certainly true," John chortled.

"Regardless," Sherlock snapped the notebook shut, "I suppose Lisa will have to come along with us, then."

"Sherlock, I don't really think…"

"John, you are the new kid here. You should listen to my advice."

John sighed, but he knew it was no use arguing with Sherlock. He decided to apologize profusely to Lisa and ask her if she wanted to come. She would understand, right? They ate lunch in silence until a tall, stocky blonde boy came up to their table.

"Sherlock," he said gruffly, "Will you help me with my math homework?"

"Not now, Greg, I'm busy," Sherlock muttered.

"But I have a test today!"

"Ask one of your buddies."

"Jonathan is retaking a history test right now, and Sally has lunch next period. You gotta help me Sherlock!"

"Look, Greg, I can't. See you later."

The boy, Greg, stomped away from the table sullenly. Sherlock spent a long while paying close attention to his fingernails. John stayed silent, as usual.

"Who was that?" he finally asked, unable to sit there watching Sherlock's intent scruity of his appendages any longer.
"Greg Lestrade. A colleague of mine."

"Colleague?"

"Yes. I don't have friends."

Well, there goes this budding friendship, John thought, more than a little bit hurt. Sherlock seemed completely oblivious to the pain he had caused to his companion. Not for the first time, John found himself contemplating how one so smart could be so ignorant.

"Well, that's that!" Sherlock jumped out his seat, causing a few freshman at neighboring tables to shoot them odd glances. "I'm off to history. Care to join me?"

John hesitated, considering punishing Sherlock for the earlier comment, giving a good comeback about not being friends. But Sherlock was certainly acting friendly, and as much as John hated to admit it, he enjoyed the boy's company.

"Let's go."

"Splendid," Sherlock clapped his hands together, "I need you to man the stopwatch for me. I'm timing my walking speed at different hours of the day to see when I'm least efficient."