She didn't see him very often after that, and when she did he was always on his own, usually hurrying past through the corridors towards the next chance to read his textbook, looking straight ahead to avoid making eye contact with people who might taunt him.
Eventually she found him again, one lunchtime nearly two weeks later, and once again he was sat alone, close to the window and far away from other people, nose buried in a textbook.
"Hi Sherlock" she said, sitting down opposite him. No response, but that wasn't surprising. "Chip?" she held out the greasy plastic tray towards him. He shook his head. She noted the lack of plates or napkins nest to him, and that the bin wasn't close enough for him to have thrown anything.
"Have you eaten anything this lunchtime?"
"Nope."
"Oh, if you're hungry I'll buy you something, you can pay me ba-"
"I'm not hungry, thank you. I don't eat at school."
"Oh, you bring stuff from home?"
"Nope."
"You eat when you get home?"
"Nope."
"Huh. Explains why you're so skinny, I suppose. That and the cigarettes."
"What?"
"You STINK of tabs."
"Oh." He sounded almost impressed that she'd noticed. They sat in silence for the next 5 minutes, until the bell rang.
"What've you got next lesson?"
"Nothing. You?"
"Same. You going down the shops?" He shook his head, and held up the textbook.
"That's all you ever do! Come on. I'll buy you a cup of tea, you don't even have to pay me back." He looked indecisive, until she reached over and folded the book on his hand - then he looked annoyed.
"Come oooooon. It's got to get boring eventually, reading all of that." He sighed, but put the book in his bag and stood up, grabbing his coat and scarf as he did so. He walked so quickly that she barely kept up with him, trotting behind as his long legs carried him almost at jogging pace. Silent and focused, he sped past everyone,. The lower-school students huddled together giggling when they saw him, one or two turning to shout back once they were at least two steps past him. The sixth-formers eyed him warily, or gave a sarcastic "alright, Sherly?" before grinning knowingly to each other.
Instead of taking the quicker route through the main building, he darted off intoi the driveway up from the main road, balancing on the thin curb to avoid any cars driving up towards the school. As soon as he was out of the paths of other students he seemed to relax, standing a little taller, his walking pace not quite so forcefully brisk, curled fringe pushed away from his eyes a bit more. He turned to collar of his coat down as she caught up with him, huddling together to avoid the cars that were passing them. On the winter's day in weak sunlight, and under the cover of the trees growing over the driveway she only saw his outline, as he rummaged in his bag to take out a cigarette and lighter. His face was then momentarily lit as he held the cigarette between his lips and the lighter to the end of the cigarette, thee smoke curling slowly away from his mouth. He held it out silently between two fingers, offering it to her.
"No, thanks" she said. He drew it back and took another drag. "So, what's with the science textbooks?"
"I want to be a detective." he said.
"Oh, cool. How come?"
"Only thing that's not boring." he said. "And I'm already better than most of the Police anyway." She raised an eyebrow, disbelieving, and as son as he noticed he turned on her. "You stayed up late last night watching a film, and as a result you slept in by 10 minutes this morning. You still caught the bus, but only just in time, and you left one of your textbooks and your homework that was due to be handed in today at home." The words we're fired off at 100mph, eyes darting between her face, hand and articles of her clothing that were probably telling him these things. "How many people do you know, Police Officers or not, who could tell you that today?"
"Well. Yeah ok." she said after a pause. "You are pretty good." She said. He smirked. "I don't know what I want to do." she said. He hadn't asked, but he nodded. "I can't think of anything interesting enough."
"There isn't anything. It's al so dull, really." he finished his cigarette, dropped it on the ground and stepped over it, flakes of ash sticking to his shoe.
"Hmm." she shrugged. He wasn't easy to make conversation with - every question was either answered in one word, orled to some angst speech about his worldview. She suspected he didn't have many people to tell these things to.
They walked in silence fro a minute or so, as he inhaled more smoke and expertly blew it out through his nostrils. Eventually the awkwardness of the silence outweighed her fear of setting him off on another arrogant rant, and she asked the typical question of first meetings with other sixth-formers. "So, what subjects do you take?"
"Biology, Chemistry, Maths and Physics- ugh"
"Why ugh?"
"It's so POINTLESS. Or at least so much of it is. I don't care about the behaviour of particles or how to calculate the sun's mass. I don't even care if the earth goes round the sun or not"
"Huh. I quite like physics-"
"I didn't ask." he snapped.
"I know, doesn't mean I can't tell you."
"Why do you keep telling me things about you?"
"Because you just told me all about you, so then I do the same. It's how conversations work, Sherlock."
"Ugh, how bo-"
"Boring?"
He gave a quiet "hmph." She contemplated telling him to fuck off, to grow a sense of humour and get off his high horse, and realise the world - or indeed, sun - didn't revolve around him. But she thought about the way he looked every time they passed another student, the straight-ahead glare followed by the red faced glance at the ground, the second where the cold eyes looked sad.
They walked in silence for the rest of the journey to the coffee shop - when they ended he said "team milk and two sugars" before she asked and immediately darted off upstairs to find a table. She wandered up 5 minutes later, carrying a tray with two cups of tea and a blueberry muffin, to find him sitting at the table with the comfiest chairs next to the window. His chin rested on the palm of his hand as he gazed listlessly out of the window, knuckles pressed against his hollow cheekbones, while the slim fingers of the other hand drummed rhythmically on the armrest. He smiled quickly at her as she handed him his tea, before passing a look of faint disgust at the muffin.
"You waft fome? She said, mouth full of blueberry.
"No." he said stiffly. She broke off half of it anyway, putting it back on the plate and sliding it across the table to him.
"I said no thank you."
"You said you didn't have lunch."
I also said I wasn't hungry."
"Well, what have you eaten today?" He thought for a moment, then said "Three cups of tea including this one, and two bites of an apple this morning."
"That's it? You must be starving."
"As I told you, I'm not at all." She looked at him for a moment.
"… You're not anorexic or something, are you?" His derogatory snort flared up again, rolling his eyes so hard she thought they'd disappear back into his head. "Just eat the muffin, you idiot. You'll make yourself ill."
Is gaze snapped up at the word "idiot", suddenly appalled to hear himself describe din such a way. He looked for a moment as though he was about to launch into some finely-calculated counter argument- but instead, he curled huffily into the chair away from her, snatching up the muffin begrudgingly as he did so. He took several bites that he seemed to think were causing him physical pain, casting her glances every now and again that she imagined were his way of saying "SEE?" or "FINE." while his mouth was full. Once finished, he rubbed the crumbs off his fingertips on a napkin, brushing off the few that had fallen onto his expensive-looking shirt. Crossing his legs rather awkwardly in the chair, he picked up his mug of tea and sipped delicately. His annoyance and her amusement still hung in the silence as they drank, but she had the feeling that, had he really been angry at her, he'd have stormed off firing insults at her long before now. She was even lucky to get a "Thanks for the tea" between his delicate slurps.
There were footsteps from the stairs, and she saw him tense up; as the loud voices of other teenagers carried up the stairs, he quickly adopted the position, hair flicked in front of as much of his face as possible, eyes down, shoulders forwards, trying to perform the impossible feat of curly his lanky 6-foot frame into a ball so small that he couldn't be noticed.
"Oh, hiiiiii Sherly!"
It hadn't worked. A girl she didn't recognise made her way across the room to their table, waving mockingly to Sherlock. "And You've got a friend!"
"Yes" he said quietly, not looking up.
"Wow, I'm impressed! What's help name?"
"I'm Laura." she said. "Hello."
"Hiii! He's just doing your homework for you, isn't he?"
"Pardon?"
"You're paying him and he's doing your homework, right? I mean, no one talks to him otherwise." She saw him glaring at her knuckles white around his teacup.
"Oh. No, actually. We're just talking." She smiled coldly, The other girl snorted.
"What about, then?"
"Oh y'know, just stuff. The stuff you usually talk about with your friends." The look of surprise that crossed Sherlock and the girl's face was almost identical. A chorus of gigging broke out from a table at the other side of the room. "speaking of which, I think your friends are over there." she said, flashing the cold smile again.
"Huh." said the other girl, promptly crossing the room to the other table.
Sherlock eyed her suspiciously, not quite sure what it meant that she'd referred to her as his "friend." She glanced at his teacup, noting that it was empty, and said "We should probably go." Draining her cup in one last gulp, the hot liquid stinging in her throat. "Come on. I've got stuff to get from the shops." She tossed his scarf to him from the floor, and he pulled on his coat following her out.