Chapter 4: Lessons
"Sherlock!" A piercing sing-song voice greets Sherlock as he arrives in the waiting room of his music lessons. He can't resist a small smile and an eye roll before turning around to the posh boy in a perfectly pressed private school uniform, sitting in one of the cushy chairs, his feet kicking as they cannot reach the floor. He takes a moment to study the carefully gelled dark hair, take in the slightly scuffed dressy shoes, and notice the tiny scrap on his palms as the other waves gleefully at him.
"Good Afternoon, Jim. I see you've been having trouble staying upright on the playground again" He says smoothly. "What happened this time? Did the bullies tie your shoes together?" He mocks as he kneels backwards on the chair across from the boy, his arms folded on top of the back. However, Jim seems unfazed. He continues to grin widely at the only other person in the waiting room.
"Oh, this?" He looks at his hand in over dramatic surprise, before his lips twist back into a cunning smirk. "Nah… My dearest Seb tripped me while racing today. He's such a cheater. He even ruined my new trousers." But Sherlock knew that. His clothes were too perfect to have been worn at school all day. Even if Jim had a talent for keeping himself looking impeccable, he'd changed before coming to his lessons.
"He only cheats as much as you do, James." Sherlock says truthfully. He's known Jim long enough to know that there were very few things that he did not win. Usually he won in underhanded and cheating way. The only times he couldn't consistently claim victory were his arguments with Sherlock. It was the only thing that kept him coming back to his weekly acting lessons. Jim winks coyly, then waits, leaning forward waiting for Sherlock to continue.
"Well, don't be rude, Sherlock." He says when the smaller boy says nothing. "I've told you about my friend, now tell me all about your new friend!" He giggles, as Sherlock is unable to keep the shock off his face. He knew Jim was smart, but he was not supposed to be this good. He's supposed to be smart like Greg is smart- able to follow his way of thinking but not do it himself. Before Jim can put in a cutting comment, Sherlock regains his composure.
"What would you like to know?" He asks in the polite facade that all of their conversations take place under. "Let's see… His name is John Watson; he's a military transfer student. His dad is working with the military not far away, but his mum prefers to live in London. He's intelligent enough, and a loyal friend." Sherlock shrugs. "A bit average, but he's funny." To his surprise, James laughs.
"Oh, I know. Tell you what, tomorrow, why don't you tell him that Sebastian Moran says hello." Sherlock rolls his eyes. Of course James Moriarty would know one of the only friends John has in London right now. Sherlock would have to keep an eye on that though. He didn't want his new friend deserting him to go to one of Jim's lackeys. That wouldn't be very good.
"Well if that's settled, why don't you tell me about the cake you had for lunch? Is it your birthday, James? I didn't get you anything. Sorry, I would have- but I had more important things going on." He's cheating now too. Mycroft had told him on the car ride over, still under the delusion that Jim was his 'little friend'. Jim smiles.
"That's okay. Just to sit here at chat with your massive intellect is enough of a present (for me)." They both know that there is a hint of truth to this. Sherlock sits back on his heels, glancing at the clock. He still had fifteen minutes until his lessons began. Jim had ten.
"Oh Sherlock, I've waited all week to see you again, and this is all you have to say to me?" He pouts. "No 'How's your amazing acting career going'? No 'What masterpiece did you learn to sing this week, Jim'? I'm hurt." He looks up at Sherlock with his huge eyes turned into a pathetic puppy eyed look. "Since you've dropped the ball today, I'll be so kind as to pick it back up. How was your Hydrangea experiment?"
"Failure. The supervisors caught me attempting to get a flower, and I spent the rest of playtime under strict supervision." As much as they fight, Sherlock enjoys talking about himself, and Jim is always glad to hear stories of Sherlock's fascinating experiments.
"What a shame." Jim says honestly. "You see, what you need to do is have your accomplice create a distraction. Pull a few teachers to the other side of the playground. You'll have enough time to at least hide your flower, if not plant it." Jim says, grinning toothily at Sherlock. "Have your friend go push someone off the monkey bars, or steal the class crybaby's football." Sherlock's already shaking his head.
"No, he can't do that. He's already been in trouble with me before. I don't want to risk him getting caught again. They'll call his mum, and he'd have to stop helping me. Made that mistake with Anderson." He shakes his head then folds his hands in thought.
"You could make the distraction and have him get the flower." Jim offers, fully knowing that that would get Sherlock in a lot of trouble. "Or hire the crybaby to do the distracting on their own. And you and your precious John can skip of into the magic of flowers." He sneers.
"You could go to your lesson now." Sherlock replies hearing his instructor's heels click down the hall towards the waiting room. "Unless you have some evil plot to fulfill first. In any case, last night Mycroft was telling me about a mind palace and I need a few moments to check up on the start of mine. Good day, Jim. Try not to make coach cry this time," He says dismissively. Jim frowns and pads down the hall following his teacher as Sherlock dissolves into his thoughts and plans. Tomorrow, he would not fail.
A/N: I suck. I fail so hard for not getting this to you guys faster. But guess what! I paid for it by having my beta be an extremely insulting Brit. She yelled at my style and Americanism and changed it so it was less offensive. Please, please review. I really enjoy your reviews and they do motivate me to write more!
