AN: Yay! Another Chapter! I'm getting slower and slower, aren't I? If anyone's interested I'm writing another story called Snatched Away. It's about Sherlock's back story. If you want to read it, you can find it on my profile :)

Chapter 9: A Study in School

John pulled opened his door and sprinted down the stairs, jumping them two at a time. He raced into the kitchen, grabbed a slice of toast from a plate on the side, and rushed out onto the street, heading towards school.

It was the first day back after the summer holidays, and John was going to be late. He'd slept in and was now having to run to school.

He entered the school gates, just as the bell rang for form time. Sighing in relief, John headed towards his form room. As he walked through the door, he glanced around the room. He instantly spotted the unruly mop of black, curly hair, only just visible behind a newspaper. He grinned and headed towards him.

"Anything interesting?" he greeted, trying to catch the boy's attention.

Sherlock Holmes emerged from behind the paper and looked at him, smiling.

"Suicides that don't make sense." He replied, "Brilliant."

John pulled the paper from Sherlock's hand, and glanced over the article about the mysterious suicides.

"How was your summer?" he asked, only paying half of his attention to Sherlock.

"Dull, as usual." Sherlock complained. John looked at him and smirked. He hadn't seen Sherlock since the first day of the holiday, over a month ago, and he had missed his dulcet tones.

He turned back to the paper and frowned as a name caught his eye.

"Doesn't she go to our school?" John asked, holding out the paper, so Sherlock could see where he was pointing.

Sherlock looked at the picture, of the girl named Jenny Wilson, and nodded.

"Yes, she's in Year Eleven... Well, was." He corrected.

"God," John exclaimed. "They're dying everywhere."

"They never leave notes," Sherlock stated. "But she did. Why?" He questioned, furrowing his brows in contemplation.

"I'm sure you'll work it out," John reassured him. "I expect we'll be having an assembly about her then soon."

Sherlock nodded his agreement. "Judging by the teachers stony expressions, I'd say now." He deduced, just before their form tutor stood up and told them all that they had an assembly in the hall.

"You are infuriating." John muttered, as they stood up to leave the classroom.


Sherlock didn't reply, just chuckled.

John and Sherlock filed into the hall, with the rest of their year, and took their seats. They stood when the Headmaster walked in and then sat down; waiting to hear what he had to say.

"Hello, everyone." He began, "It is my pleasure to welcome you all back to school after the summer holidays. I hope you all had a relaxing time and are now prepared to work hard throughout this year." He paused. "However, I'm afraid that with the start of this school year, I must bring some sad news. Yesterday, a fellow student, like yourselves, committed suicide. Jennifer Wilson."

Ripples of whispering erupted in the hall. Cries of shock, sadness and confusion.

"Hush, please." The Headmaster commanded. "I am very sorry to bring this news and I want to welcome you all to join in a minutes silence with me, as we think of her and her family." He fell silent, along with the rest of the hall.

A minute later he raised his head and started again. "The school will feel this loss greatly, but we will support Jennifer's family and hope that something like this never happens again. I want you all to be aware that the school is always here for you. If you ever feel lost, upset, scared, the school will always be here to offer support and help. You don't have to deal with things alone, and if you tell people about what is troubling you we can ensure that no-one feels the need to end their life like Jennifer did."

John nodded understandingly, as the Headmaster finished and then looked round as he felt movement beside him. Sherlock had raised his hand. The Headmaster looked down at him from the stage, "Yes, young man? Do you have a question?"

"How did she die?" Sherlock asked, flatly.

Everyone's faces turned to look at him. The Headmaster stared at him in shock for a moment, while Sherlock blinked innocently at him, then sniffed and said "I'm sorry, I can't tell you that. You do not need to know." He glared at him and then turned to sit on his chair, whilst the deputy head stood up to give notices.

Sherlock turned his head to see a glare directly pointed at him by John. Sherlock blinked and then suddenly realised. "Not good?" he asked, curiously.

John rolled his eyes, "Bit not good, yeah."

Sherlock sighed. "I want to know how she died. The papers don't tell people the details!" he exclaimed, looking cross.

"Come on, Sherlock." John chided, "Why do you have to know?"

"Something doesn't add up." Sherlock grumbled, eyes flicking around the room, as they got up to go back to their form room. "I want to know what it is."

"And how are you going to do that?" John asked.

"I'm going to go and look for it." Sherlock answered. He raised an eyebrow at John, "Coming?"

"We can't just run out of school!" John exclaimed.

"Just watch me." Sherlock shot back, walking towards the school gates, knowing John would follow.

"There are no words to describe how much I hate you right now." John muttered as he followed Sherlock. He glanced round; making sure no one was watching them or could see them.

Sherlock stopped at the gates and scowled at them. They were locked.

"What are we going to do now?" John asked, nervously looking over his shoulder.

"Climb, obviously." Sherlock told him, putting his foot on the bottom rail of the gate and hauling himself over with his arms.

"We'll get expelled for this," John grumbled ,as he did the same.

Sherlock ignored him, turned down the road and marched off, to find answers.