"Good morning, Watson."

"Morning. Thanks for your help last night."

"No problem. You learn fast, you know."

"I know." I blew on my fingers and rubbed them on my shirt. Holmes chuckled. The bus pulled up and we both clambered inside. I chose my regular seat, and was surprised when Holmes sat next to me.

"Whoahwhoahwhoah." I threw up my hands. "Hadn't you better sit with your girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" Holmes asked.

"Yeah. AnneMarie. Fencing team girl."

"Marianne." Holmes corrected. "And she's not my girlfriend. Just thinks she is."

"She's not? Still," I protested. "I don't want to make the girl with the sword angry."

Holmes laughed. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

I turned to face him and put my hands on my hips. "Since when do I need protecting?"

"You're right. You don't." We grinned at each other. Then Holmes coughed and we both looked away, quickly. But from that moment on we were best friends.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


At last! The auditorium!

I had managed to sneak away from the hustle towards the cafeteria and wandered around until I found the stage. And just my luck! It was empty!

I practically ran up the rows of seats and stomped on to the stage. I dragged a music stand over, put my latest piece on it, and unpacked my flute. Humming, I put it together and played a tentative "A". Flat. Ick. I adjusted the head joint and tried again. Muuuuuuuch better.

I took my glasses off and put them on the edge of the stand. I wasn't that nearsighted that I couldn't see the music, and besides, I practically knew this piece by heart.

I started to play. My sound filled the entire room, reverberating off the walls echoing slightly. I moved by body in time to the music, enjoying the melancholy tune. I was perfect - not once did I squeak of fuzz… just pure sound.

I held the last note longer than humanly possible, then closed my eyes and listened to the echo. Content to the last drop, I sighed.

Someone applauded. I jumped and my eyes flew open. I desperately scrambled for my glasses. I hadn't seen anyone come in…

As I jammed my spectacles onto my nose, Holmes was thrown into definition. I blushed and began to take my flute apart.

"No, no. That was great!" Holmes said, not bothering to hide the awe from his voice.

I looked down. "I - I studied privately in the States."

"I could tell," Holmes stood and picked up his violin case. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all!" I said, delighted.

Holmes hurried up the steps and kneeled to unpack his violin. Tightening his bow and rubbing rosin on it, he asked me then name of the piece.

"Haru Nu Umi," I said, taking off my glasses again. "It's Japanese. But isn't violin music different?"

"I can transpose. Play your A," Holmes commanded, straightening up with the violin tucked under his chin. I obeyed. Holmes fiddled with his strings, adjusting, then nodded.

I started to play, and a measure later Holmes entered. If I had thought I sounded good before, it was nothing compared to this.

Holmes was a flawless sight-reader. He hit trills it had taken me weeks to learn. His lips tightened into a small frown as his fingers slid with a rapidity that made me jealous. We were perfectly in tune, I thought the whole auditorium would collapse from our sound.

As we approached the end of the piece, Holmes caught my eye. We held the last note together for as long as I could last. He grinned and nodded, and I cut my sound. A fading echo of violin and flute came back to tease us…

Someone applauded again. We both jumped and looked to the left. Mr. Donnelley emerged from the shadows of backstage, still applauding.

"That was amazing, you two," he said. Holmes smiled. I looked at the floor. Mr. Donnelley clapped our shoulders. "You guys make quite a team."

We muttered our thanks, and Mr. Donnelley left. I started to put my flute away. "Watson and Holmes," I said. "It's got a ring to it."

"Holmes and Watson."

I shook my head. "Uh-uh. Watson and Holmes!"

"Holmes! and! - "

"Ladies first!"

"No way!" he gave me a play full shove.

"Yes way!" I shoved him back.

At that minute, the bell rang. We both sighed and collected our things. "Math?" I asked.

"Math. You'll do fine."

"I know," I said as we walked off the stage. "All the same, want to come over this afternoon?"

"I'd love too."


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


"Good morning, Watson. Lose your glasses?"

"Nope!" I gave my head a super model shake. "Mom let me buy contact lenses. What do you think?" Grinning, I looked Holmes straight in the face.

To my surprise, he blushed. "Y-you look v-very nice," he stammered and looked away.

Uncomfortable, we waited in silence for the bus.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


"You. New girl."

I turned around. I'd started to learn it wasn't usually an insult. Most people just didn't know my name. But in this case, it was an insult.

Marianne put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. "I want you," she pointed at me. "To stay a-way," she pointed out the door. "From my," she pointed at herself. "Man."

I bit back a chuckle. "I'm really sorry you," I pointed at her. "Feel that way. But I'm not trying to steal your guy. Really. Holmes has just been nice, you know, showing me the ropes."

"The what?"

"The ropes. You know, where the grocery store is, how to get to school…"

"That better be all, or you'll be sorry." Marianne turned her back on me.

I felt a rush of anger. I could understand her concern, but who was she to dictate what I could or couldn't do?

"That's all it is right now…" I said, smugly.

Marianne turned back. I flicked a strand of hair from my face and turned on my heels.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


I groaned and cussed under my breath as the busses pulled away. I considered my options. I could scream and wave my arms and run after them, or I could…

Holmes peeled himself from a tree. "I was waiting for you," he said.

I opened my mouth to say something snippy, then closed it. "Thanks," I said.

We started to walk. "I don't think Marianne likes me very much."

Holmes frowned. "Watson… um, Sara… I have to ask you som - "

"Eww! Look out!" I said. Holmes stopped abruptly. I pointed to the ground. "Who'd be stupid enough to leave red paint on the sidewalk?"

Holmes knelt swiftly and peered at the red splotch on the ground. He ran a finger across the stain and gasped. "Watson, that's not paint…" he said softly, " …that's blood."