"You quit the fencing team?" I gasped.
Holmes looked away. "Yes."
"But, but you're good..." I said, then rubbed a finger along the scar on my neck. "Really good..." I whispered.
"That's just what I mean. Watson - I," he choked. "I just can't. Don't you understand?"
"I think I do," I said softly, and took his hand.
Of course, it was just then that Marianne walked up. We had been sitting on the park bench after a walk with Rascal. It was chilly, but not freezing, and the sun was shining. A beautiful day. That is, until SHE arrived.
After a sneer at me she turned to Holmes. "Is it true, Sherlock?" she wailed, almost pleadingly. "Jason told me you quit the fencing team! Is it true?"
"Yes, it's true, Marianne. I'm sorry."
"But Sherlock! You can't!"
"Mari, I'm sorry I just..."
Marianne turned mean. "You just? You just wanted to spend more time with your little slut here!"
"That is enough!" Holmes said, standing. "I will not tolerate this. Go, and I never want to see you again!" There was something so commanding, so powerful in his voice that even I quailed. Marianne looked hurt and back away, but not before giving me the all-time nasty look to top all nasty looks.
"Holmes," I said gently, pulling on his sleeve. "Really, Holmes, calm down."
"She can't act like that. Not in front of me," he growled as he sat.
"Holmes, she's not...so...bad," I lied, gritting my teeth. "You don't know what else is going on in her life. And sticks and stones and all that."
"What?"
"You know, the old rhyme - sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me." I said solemnly.
Holmes laughed suddenly. "You - you are amazing, Watson."
"I know," I said, smug.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I can't believe I'm doing this, I can't believe I'm doing this, I can't believe I'm doing this," I muttered under my breath, pacing the waiting room of the Greater London Youth Symphony auditions. Holmes and I had both decided to audition, and I had never been so nervous. My hands felt damp around my flute. "I'm gonna blow it, I'm gonna blow it..."
Someone giggled and I looked up. It was a small girl, the only other flautist in the waiting room. She gave me a weak smile. She looked my age, with blonde hair and a cute, turned up nose.
I bit my lip and smiled back. "Hi," I said, and then extended my hand. "Sara Watson."
"Victoria Anness," she said. (Author's note: Bwhahahaha Piano Ann!)
"So..." I said, letting out a big breath. "Nervous?"
Victoria nodded.
"I really want to make it," I said, "This is a big-deal type thing. But I'm so nervous I know I'm gonna mess up."
Victoria nodded again. "I know what you mean," she said quietly. Just then, the door at the far end opened. A rather large lady with a clipboard shuffled into the room.
"Victoria Anness," she whined, pushing spectacles further up her bulbous nose.
"Good luck," I whispered, giving Victoria a double thumbs up. Which was rather difficult while holding a flute - but she got the idea and smiled.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Holmes met me outside. "How did you do?" he asked as we turned to walk away.
"I think I did all right, actually," I said, hoisting my backpack over one shoulder. "How did you do?"
Holmes shifted his violin to his other hand. "I did very well," he said, smiling.
Now I grinned. "Okay, what's up?" I asked.
"Nothing, nothing." But he continued smiling the whole way home.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was three weeks later, a Monday, that we got the results of our audition. I had walked home from school with Holmes, and we said goodbye at the corner.
Ten minutes later, our doors were flung open. We were both running down the street, brandishing the same piece of paper.
"Holmes!" I cried, laughing. "I made it! I made it!"
"Me, too!" he shouted and met me halfway down the street. He picked me up by my waist and swung me around. I giggled then pulled him into a hug.
"This is fantastic," I said, calming down and reading my letter carefully. "Let's see... I made the sixth chair, second flute."
"Second flute?" Holmes' face fell a little.
"Yeah, why, what chair did you make?" I asked. Before he could protest, I whipped his letter from his hands.
"Concert master?!" I practically shrieked. "You're the CONCERT MASTER? Holmes, that's amazing! That's unbelievable! That is soooooo cool!" I boggled at his letter. "First violin, first chair. Unbelievable."
"You're not jealous?" Holmes asked, tentatively.
"Jealous? Why would I be jealous?" I handed his letter back.
"I don't know," Holmes muttered. "It's just that... well..."
"You're the concert master and I'm sixth chair?" I laughed. "Holmes, we both made the orchestra. We'll have a great time, regardless of what chair we're sitting in."
Holmes grinned. "You're the best, Watson."
"I know, I know," I said, taking his arm. "But not when it comes to math. You're coming to help." With that, I steered him towards my house.
Holmes looked away. "Yes."
"But, but you're good..." I said, then rubbed a finger along the scar on my neck. "Really good..." I whispered.
"That's just what I mean. Watson - I," he choked. "I just can't. Don't you understand?"
"I think I do," I said softly, and took his hand.
Of course, it was just then that Marianne walked up. We had been sitting on the park bench after a walk with Rascal. It was chilly, but not freezing, and the sun was shining. A beautiful day. That is, until SHE arrived.
After a sneer at me she turned to Holmes. "Is it true, Sherlock?" she wailed, almost pleadingly. "Jason told me you quit the fencing team! Is it true?"
"Yes, it's true, Marianne. I'm sorry."
"But Sherlock! You can't!"
"Mari, I'm sorry I just..."
Marianne turned mean. "You just? You just wanted to spend more time with your little slut here!"
"That is enough!" Holmes said, standing. "I will not tolerate this. Go, and I never want to see you again!" There was something so commanding, so powerful in his voice that even I quailed. Marianne looked hurt and back away, but not before giving me the all-time nasty look to top all nasty looks.
"Holmes," I said gently, pulling on his sleeve. "Really, Holmes, calm down."
"She can't act like that. Not in front of me," he growled as he sat.
"Holmes, she's not...so...bad," I lied, gritting my teeth. "You don't know what else is going on in her life. And sticks and stones and all that."
"What?"
"You know, the old rhyme - sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me." I said solemnly.
Holmes laughed suddenly. "You - you are amazing, Watson."
"I know," I said, smug.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I can't believe I'm doing this, I can't believe I'm doing this, I can't believe I'm doing this," I muttered under my breath, pacing the waiting room of the Greater London Youth Symphony auditions. Holmes and I had both decided to audition, and I had never been so nervous. My hands felt damp around my flute. "I'm gonna blow it, I'm gonna blow it..."
Someone giggled and I looked up. It was a small girl, the only other flautist in the waiting room. She gave me a weak smile. She looked my age, with blonde hair and a cute, turned up nose.
I bit my lip and smiled back. "Hi," I said, and then extended my hand. "Sara Watson."
"Victoria Anness," she said. (Author's note: Bwhahahaha Piano Ann!)
"So..." I said, letting out a big breath. "Nervous?"
Victoria nodded.
"I really want to make it," I said, "This is a big-deal type thing. But I'm so nervous I know I'm gonna mess up."
Victoria nodded again. "I know what you mean," she said quietly. Just then, the door at the far end opened. A rather large lady with a clipboard shuffled into the room.
"Victoria Anness," she whined, pushing spectacles further up her bulbous nose.
"Good luck," I whispered, giving Victoria a double thumbs up. Which was rather difficult while holding a flute - but she got the idea and smiled.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Holmes met me outside. "How did you do?" he asked as we turned to walk away.
"I think I did all right, actually," I said, hoisting my backpack over one shoulder. "How did you do?"
Holmes shifted his violin to his other hand. "I did very well," he said, smiling.
Now I grinned. "Okay, what's up?" I asked.
"Nothing, nothing." But he continued smiling the whole way home.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was three weeks later, a Monday, that we got the results of our audition. I had walked home from school with Holmes, and we said goodbye at the corner.
Ten minutes later, our doors were flung open. We were both running down the street, brandishing the same piece of paper.
"Holmes!" I cried, laughing. "I made it! I made it!"
"Me, too!" he shouted and met me halfway down the street. He picked me up by my waist and swung me around. I giggled then pulled him into a hug.
"This is fantastic," I said, calming down and reading my letter carefully. "Let's see... I made the sixth chair, second flute."
"Second flute?" Holmes' face fell a little.
"Yeah, why, what chair did you make?" I asked. Before he could protest, I whipped his letter from his hands.
"Concert master?!" I practically shrieked. "You're the CONCERT MASTER? Holmes, that's amazing! That's unbelievable! That is soooooo cool!" I boggled at his letter. "First violin, first chair. Unbelievable."
"You're not jealous?" Holmes asked, tentatively.
"Jealous? Why would I be jealous?" I handed his letter back.
"I don't know," Holmes muttered. "It's just that... well..."
"You're the concert master and I'm sixth chair?" I laughed. "Holmes, we both made the orchestra. We'll have a great time, regardless of what chair we're sitting in."
Holmes grinned. "You're the best, Watson."
"I know, I know," I said, taking his arm. "But not when it comes to math. You're coming to help." With that, I steered him towards my house.
