The bell for the end of school went off and all students-including John- fled out of the classroom as fast as they could, not caring for anyone's personal space when running side by side with each other. By now he had completely lost Sally and her friends, which he was glad with. He wanted nothing to do with her after lunch, they all seemed like psychopaths, but it seemed safe to have them on his side.

When he reached the outside gate, students began to drift apart from each other and head their own ways. The path that John remembered from this morning was only occupied by three people, the estate he lived in wasn't as rough as others but it wasn't as posh either. The whole day seemed to drag along, classes used to make John interested but not he didn't feel up for it. But it was only the first day maybe the feeling will disappear, he thought.

Once he walked further away from the school, the amount of people he saw started to reduce in size, leaving only one walking who was in front of him but not too far away. Noticing the shape and the hair of the guy in front of him, he easily recognised him as Sherlock.

"Sherlock!" John cried, slightly running towards him to catch up," Wait up!"

It was Sherlock he saw. Turning around, the taller boy frowned, but then smiled as he noticed who was running towards him. Catching his breath as he ran along, he finally caught up with him and returned to normal pace.

"Hey Sherlock," said John, hoping to get a 'hey' back, but it never came. After a brief moment of pause he broke the ice, "What's up?"

"What do you mean 'what's up'? Do you mean what is above me at this moment in time or are you asking me how I'm feeling? Any one I'd be free to answer."

"Um, how are you feeling? I guess,"

"Normal."

"Normal?" these odd questions and answers made John uncomfortable, even if he didn't want to be, "Normal's good. It's better than not being normal."

"My thoughts exactly."

The space between them seemed to grow smaller, even though John didn't realise it, he was too busy trying not to trip on his own two feet. Their hands briefly brushed against another, before John pulled his hand away from him. John felt like telling Sherlock what Anderson told him, but he was scared of what kind of reaction he was going to get. Instead of telling Sherlock what he knew, he settled on asking more about Sherlock.

"So," said John, breaking the tension between the two, "What school do you go to?"

"Parkbridge Grammar."

"Parkbridge?" asked John, "Isn't that place really expensive to get in?"

"Yes."

"Well that's nice," John paused, trying to think of more questions, "Where do you live?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"Well, we've been walking the same way for ten minutes and I recognise this street from this morning, so you must live closer to where I live. That's why I asked."

"Baker Street."

"Wow...really?" asked John, "Isn't that where all the posh people live?"

"If that's what you call them, then yes."

"Sorry, I wasn't meant to be rude," the silence returned, until John began to speak, "So how long does it take you to get to school?"

"58 minutes. 40 minutes with shortcuts, depends on how I'm feeling."

John really wished the conversation would continue, but it didn't. He didn't really know why he wanted it to continue, it just made him more at ease with someone speaking for once. They were about to reach another corner until a crowd stopped them in their path. John's height had a disadvantage to him, as he couldn't see what all the fuss was about. Sherlock-on the other hand- was already turning into an alleyway, too fast for John to catch up with him, but he eventually did.

"Sherlock!" shouted John, trying to avoid stepping on the broken glasses and damp newspapers, "Where are you going?"

"Shortcut."

"Well, do you know what way you're going?"

"Of course I do," Sherlock stopped in front of a metal ladder before climbing up it towards the roof, "I wouldn't take this way if I didn't know where I was going."

John was speechless, it was only a small crowd and anyway, they could have gone a different route, that was actually on the ground rather than on top of buildings.

"You following?" called Sherlock, who was already halfway up the ladders, "If not then find your own way."

John didn't know why he did it, but he did it anyway. Without thinking, he put his rucksack on both shoulders before climbing up behind Sherlock, who was already at the top. The bars on the ladder were still damp from the weather, which made it more difficult-and slower- for John to climb up. His foot lost balance and slipped off, left dangling in the air while John calmed himself down.

"Sh- Sherlock?" John tried to call, but didn't get an answer, "I need a little help!"

Still not getting an answer, John put his foot back onto the bar and began to climb further up until-finally- he reached the top, collapsing on the floor with delight that he actually made it. Looking up, he noticed Sherlock was already on the 3rd roof away from John and heading onto the fourth.

"Wait up!" called John, as he jumped over ceiling windows and fallen over satellites. Soon enough, he-once again- reached to Sherlock's side, "I'm following you. I don't know the way,"

"Then do keep up John, I don't have all day. I have eyeballs waiting for me."

"Wait, you have what waiting for you?"

"Eyeballs, like I said, do keep up."

"Is that like your motto: do keep up?"

"I don't have a motto, I have no need for a motto. I can live life perfectly well without having a motto."

"Okay, don't get all moody about a bloody motto. It's just a motto. Anyway, where exactly are we?"

"Look over there, does that look familiar?"

Following Sherlock's point, John focused his eyes on a small scale of greenery-which was the park- beyond the street. Easily recognising it, John noticed that they were only 10 minutes away from where he lived, the park was the first place John explored when moving here. He didn't focus on that for long, his gaze landed on the London eye which could be seen in the distance. Compared to where he used to live, London seemed more like where he belonged. It was filled with life and excitement, new possibilities were open on every corner.

"So how long have you lived here for? If you don't mind me asking,"

"All my life."

"You're lucky, being brought up in a place like this? I bet you don't get bored around here," said John, only getting a shrug from Sherlock. They continued to walk on the rooftop, not really talking and sometimes forgetting they weren't alone, until they reached the end of the street. Sherlock followed-once again- down the closest ladder; when they both reached the bottom, they left the passageway and continued to walk down the path.

When they turned the corner, John could see that they were just outside his house. It only seemed like they were walking for 10 minutes, but when John checked his watched, he noticed that they've been walking for 40 minutes.

"Thanks Sherlock," said John, both stopped at the front gate of the house, "For bringing me back here."

"No problem." said Sherlock, turning to leave before John's hand grabbed his arm to swing him back round again.

"Wait, I need to tell you something. You went to Lakemere, didn't you?" said John. Sherlock gave a stern look to John, who was feeling uncomfortable for bringing it up in the first place, "I'm only asking because I met a couple of people there."

"Yes I did, you want to know why I left as well?" said Sherlock, in a sarcastic manner, "Since you're asking a lot of questions about me?"

"I know already. I've met Anderson and he told me what he did and even though I don't know you properly, I think what he did to you wasn't called for. He said you guess stuff about people which turn out to be right, you did that with me and I thought it was fantastic. So yeah, you didn't deserve that from him."

He wished he could take back what he said, he really did. Now, both stood facing each other outside of John's house. Sherlock was open mouthed looking directly at John, while John refused to look him in the eye from embarrassment. However, he meant every word, this talent that Sherlock had didn't freak him out like it did with most people, he was actually jealous of him. In all his life, John would have never been able to do what Sherlock does, even if he tried.

"Wh- Why are being like this?" asked Sherlock, staggering closer towards John.

"Being like what?"

"Nice? Why are you being nice?"

"Can I be honest?"

"Of course."

John chuckled at the tall guy in front of him, "I don't know. And anyway, you told me to leave you alone this morning for the future, so why are YOU being nice to me?"

Sherlock copied John, however his laugh was more like a deep, low-toned laugh while made John smile to himself, "Can I be honest to you John?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I don't know either."