:4:

Sometimes Regan forgot she despised school lunches, not so much the low quality food as the loud atmosphere. Kate had trotted off to spout some fan-girl rubbish no doubt, so Regan was left alone to scoop up a tray of reasonably acceptable looking food. She scanned the room, but since she was kept just marginally late by Moriarty - there weren't any empty tables, and so she'd have to find a seat at an occupied table. Somehow, the prospect of that was incredibly unappealing, so instead she made her way to one of the walls and slid down it to sit on the floor. She poked at the steamed vegetables with a plastic fork, making various noises of dissatisfaction. Somehow, she wasn't that hungry anymore. Regan put the tray down in front of her and took out her phone, attempting to shelter it in her lap.

"If it isn't Regan Byron." a shrill voice called out.

Regan rolled her eyes and looked up. "If it wasn't I'd be very concerned for your eye sight, Irene."

The girl clicked her tongue. Regan mused that her perpetual bitch face didn't quite suit her. Irene Adler was quite a good looking girl, with the elegant facial features and long legs of a girl who'd have a bright future in the fashion industry if she'd like. Instead, the girl opted to get fucked up on drugs every other weekend, sleep around and constantly smelled of tobacco. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, she was still incredibly popular - and had had it out for Regan ever since she'd punched her in that smug scowl of her's two years ago for 'accidentally' spilling her Chai latte on an assignment of hers. "I might need contacts but at least my face isn't as fucked up as yours." she hissed.

"Inventive." Regan hummed. "What do you want?"

Irene propped a hand up on her hip and loomed over Regan. "Don't you just think our new English teacher is smokin' hot?"

Regan let out a groan.

"I wonder what faculty would say if they knew you two were getting so well acquainted?"

"Nothing, considering that to be acquaintances we'd have to have spoken."

Irene let out a low chuckle. "Oh, Regan. See, if you only knew the things I know. One thing is that he's kept you back after class every day of the school year."

The two of them were attracting a bit of attention now, a few sheep pausing in chewing their cud to watch the proceedings with vacant eyes. "An accusation which would surely be more effective if this school year hadn't elapsed a spectacular time period of just two days."

"So you admit he's kept you back..." she grinned, gesturing grandly to their audience.

"Well, yeah-"

Irene leaned down. "And you think he's attractive?"

"Not to me." Regan seethed. This girl was really getting on her nerves.

"But he is an attractive man, no?"

"And a teacher."

"When did that ever stop anyone, Regan?" Irene beamed.

Regan shrugged. Irene was infamous for coming onto the psychology teacher nearly every class. Mr. Holmes seemed either oblivious or really gave no shits. "Yes, well." Regan started, scooping up her tray and standing up. "Maybe if you weren't such a cow, you'd get some attention from men of intelligence - no?" She quipped, pushing past Irene to put the tray on a table.

By now they'd amassed a small circle of onlookers, and Regan was getting increasingly irritated.

"I wonder what he'd say if he somehow got this..." Irene hummed, handing her a piece of folded paper.

Tentatively, Regan took it and unfolded it:

Mr. Moriarty, you should know you're so hot

When I see you my stomach is a knot

I always love the lessons you've taught

And if only we wouldn't get caught ;)

Through my eyes of blue

I love to watch the things you do

I hope you'll give me flowers

And meet me in the showers

"Are you kidding me?" Regan scoffed, trying not to vomit. "My eyes aren't even blue, f-y-i, and this is garbage."

Irene gave an innocent smile. "All the more convincing that you wrote it, huh?"

Irene extended an arm to tuck a piece of hair behind Regan's ear mockingly. In return, Regan seized her wrist with one hand, twisted it around her back and pushed her elbow up towards her neck. "Alright, Irene." she spat, "You continue getting all up in my shit, go for it." Regan pushed the arm up more, eliciting a yelp from Irene who was struggling to get away without moving the arm. "I fucking dare you. But next time you try to pick a fight with me again and so help me I will break this bloody arm."

Before the figures in her peripheral vision could get any closer and pull her off the Queen Bee, Regan let Irene's arm go and turned on her heel to leave. She didn't know what she expected, as Irene decided that being submitted in public wasn't on her conceited to-do list today, and lunged after her. As soon as Regan felt the hands on her back, she spun around and let a well-placed elbow collide with the girl's face.

She looked down at the knocked out heap. She shrugged, "I did a few muay thai classes back in the day."

Inevitably, a figure of reasonable authority was called to break up the fight. What Regan didn't expect was it to be the man himself.

"What happened here?" he lulled, making his way through the crowd - but not looking very surprised at the proceedings.

Irene was clutching her nose which dripped with a caustic crimson colour. "Dat phucking bish..." she spat. It obviously pained her to speak. "Broke my nosh!"

Moriarty sucked his teeth. "Let's have a look at it." he knelt down, taking care not to get any of the blood on his suit. He gingerly removed Irene's hand from her face and looked at the offending appendage. He touched it gently, evoking a squeak from the girl. "Well, it's definitely not broken... But -" he gestured for Kate to come forward, who had been watching in fear, who suddenly looked very delighted. "Uh, you - girl. Take Irene to the nurse's office, will you?"

"Kate." she snapped.

"What?"

"My name is Kate." Kate scowled.

Moriarty shook his head and picked up the poem - now splattered with blood. He read it briskly, and turned to Regan with raised eyebrows. A flash of pain shot through Regan's elbow, and she cradled it. Irene's face would definitely leave a bruise. He put the poem in his pocket and approached Regan with a sigh.

"You're going to have to come with me..." he said in a dull tone, placing a hand gently on her back and pushing her forward.

Regan didn't have the energy to protest, and simply left the lunch hall with the man.

"You're bleeding." Moriarty said suddenly, stopping them on their walk of shame to the Principal's office.

Regan looked down at her elbow. "I... Don't think that's mine..." she said tentatively, hiding the elbow.

"Let me look." Moriarty commanded, grabbing her forearm.

Pain shot through her elbow again, and she sucked in air. She watched in horror and a hint of confusion as he licked his thumb and used it to wipe dried blood off her elbow.

He looked appraisingly at the elbow, briefly up into her eyes, and back at the elbow. "You've got a small gash where the skin split. Hang on." he informed her, putting his bag down and shuffling around.

Regan looked around. People were giving her awful looks, and she started to consider that perhaps she'd made a mistake. "Shouldn't I go to the nurses office?"

Moriarty produced a band-aid. "And have you start another fight?" he opened the packet and stuck the small piece of material on the gash. "Not likely." he grinned.

Regan groaned. "You know it wasn't my fault - right?"

Moriarty sighed and picked his bag back up, opting to say nothing at all as he continued in the direction of the Principal's office. He sat her down in the chairs outside. "Wait here."

She sat as Mr. Moriarty knocked on the door to the office and slipped in. Regan wrung her hands together. Second day of school and she'd already been sent to the office, caused an injury, hurt herself - and additionally been forced to be in Moriarty's company again. Although, arguably, he wasn't acting as vile as she'd presumed him to be. But she knew it had to be an act, there was something off about him. He was acting so, normal. And that's what she planned to confront him about as he stepped out of the office.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked lowly.

"Unfortunately, Regan, it's my responsibility."

"Why yours? Why not someone else's?"

Moriarty scowled at her. "If you'd like to discuss your unreasonable aversion to me with the Principal, go ahead. But-" he sat down next to her and leaned close. "I can assure you, anything you accuse me of will go unnoticed."

There it was. "You followed me to school." she snarled back at him.

He chuckled, it was a deep throaty noise. "And you can't prove it."

She couldn't help the small gasp that escaped her. "But you admit it?"

He tilted his head downwards and looked up at her, an angle which made him looking menacing - and somehow more realistic to what she truly believed the man to be, twisted. He bit his lower lip slowly.

The door to the office opened. "Regan Byron, please, come in... Is everything all right here, Mr. Moriarty?"

"Just making sure she's alright." Moriarty proclaimed.

Regan got up quickly and followed Principal Lestrade into his office.

"So you're telling me that, although you attacked Irene Adler first - to my knowledge completely unprovoked, it isn't your fault?"

"Precisely."

"Mr. Moriarty-"

"I know as much as you do."

Regan let out a loud groan of annoyance as she stretched over the back of the chair. "Alright, she wrote a particularly upsetting and malicious piece of, well, I wouldn't call it writing."

Moriarty stifled a laugh.

"Do you know anything about this, Jim?"

Mr. Moriarty leaned forward onto the desk, steepling his fingers like he did when he meant business. Regan eyed the bloodstained parchment in his pocket with a thrumming heart. "I didn't see anything that might've provoked the fight, Lestrade, but I consider myself an excellent judge of character..."

"Well, yes you would but-"

"And I sincerely believe that Miss. Byron would not attack anybody unprovoked." he negotiated, tossing Regan a sideways glance.

"And while faculty values your insight, Jim - we can't ignore school policy. We can't have students - people, attacking each other!" Lestrade said, banging his fist on the table.

Regan deduced that this was perhaps not the best place to be. There was clearly some bad blood, and she quickly found herself wanting to be anywhere but in this dark little room with it's frayed curtains and fake pot plants.

"That's what people do!" Moriarty roared, jumping forward in his seat and looming over the table at Lestrade. Regan jumped and scooted her seat back. The noise caused Moriarty to turn his head. His angrily twisted expression softened as he saw Regan's shocked expression. "That's what people do." he repeated quietly, eyes on hers. "Regan, you won't do this again - correct?"

She quickly nodded.

"I'm going to need to call your parents, Regan." Lestrade said submissively. "We'll talk more later. You can wait outside - Jim, you can leave."

Regan all but raced to the door. Moriarty followed her. "I'll stay." he said softly, once they were safely outside. Regan could faintly make out a 'Mr. Byron?' and several unnecessary formalities. She knew her parents would understand, so she wasn't necessarily worried. In fact they probably wouldn't even care.

"Why are you doing this..." Regan parroted again, uselessly.

"Repetition isn't a good look, dear." he teased. Moriarty reached into his pocket and produced the poem. "Want to tell me what this is?"

"I..." Regan stammered, feeling her face flush a brilliant hotness. "Didn't write that."

He scoffed. "Of course you didn't."

"I can't tell if that's sarcastic or not." she mumbled.

"Put it this way - I've seen very few pieces of poetry, even ones written as a joke, as bad as this. Perhaps only marginally better than," he shuddered, "Haikus."

"Then why are you waving it around?" she asked, looking cautiously between the blinds into the office. Lestrade was busy on the phone. "It's even got blood on it."

"I think it's funny, honestly." he smirked. "And I'd like to know why it was written by Irene in the first place."

"Mr. Sex." she spat, as if the words hurt to say.

"Are you proposit-"

"That's what you're called. It would seem you're quite a hit with the ladies, Mr. Moriarty." Regan said smoothly.

He sneered. "I am, aware, of this. Teenage girls aren't quite as subtle as they like to think they are."

Regan hummed in agreement.

"And you?" he suggested quietly - almost inaudibly quiet, as if it were a rhetorical question only for his own benefit.

"Huh?"

"Noooothiiinng." he lulled, pulling the door to the office dramatically as he rolled his head around in an incredibly odd fashion. Regan started breathing again, unaware she'd been holding it.

She tapped her feet impatiently. They'd been in there for a while, and nobody had told her what was going on or where she needed to go. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, an hour. After that she wasn't sure. Her phone went flat and it was dark outside.

The door opened. "You're free to leave now." Lestrade said. "Everything's been, uh," he looked nervously back, "Cleared up. Are you alright to get home?"

Regan gave a quick, "Yeah."

Moriarty, who'd slipped out of the room in record time, caught her wrist as she was turning to leave. "It's dark outside." he pointed out.

"No shit."

"Let me drive you home, it's my fault it took so long."

"It's only a few blocks, I-"

"Let me drive you home." he repeated.

Regan sighed in defeat. She really didn't want to be here any longer, but she was tired and in a bit of pain. Surely things couldn't get any worse than they already had. "Fine."

Okay I just really love writing this tension - hopefully it's entertaining to read. :) I was hesitant to introduce some other characters, but I think it all worked pretty seamlessly.

If you didn't pay enough attention to the genres of this story, it heavily features angst. So there's going to be a lot of that coming up - but, uh, hopefully you guys won't hold it against me. ;) If you enjoyed it, you know what to do. :*