John passed on a shower after practice number two and headed straight to his only other class on Mondays, chemistry. With Sherlock Holmes. He had been anxious all practice, which did absolutely nothing to help his performance on the field. He was embarrassing himself on the field. The little freshman on the team. They were already beginning to call him Pipsqueak.

And now he was heading to Chemistry with Sherlock Holmes. Between his first class and the one he was heading to now, he had heard quite a few rumors about Doctor Holmes. No one passed his class. He was cold and lifeless. He hated everyone. He caused many students to drop out. And he was bloody brilliant, yes, despite his lack of personality. His mind was unbelievable, and he was so young, only twenty-three.

His teacher was only four years older than him and a genius. John could feel the insecurity seeping through his bloodstream. Because he had been in the presence of Sherlock Holmes, even if it was only temporary. There was an aura around him that demanded attention and respect and evoked awe.

"Oh, it's you."

John had just walked through the doorway and looked up startled. "Excuse me?"

"I'm glad I don't have to remind you to be on time. Guess Professor Levitz already covered that."

John stopped where he was and just stared. This was not how he had expected his first interaction with Doctor Holmes to go. Oh, it's you? What did that mean? He furrowed his brows together in confusion.

"Don't hurt yourself thinking," Doctor Holmes chided. "You're blocking the door. Sit down already."

"What do you mean, it's me?" John asked, shifting into the nearest seat.

"I mean I remembered your face from Professor Levitz class. You were the boy who was late," Holmes said with a shrug, turning towards his blackboard and beginning to quickly scrawl chemical formulas.

John felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He was making a terrible first impression in all his classes and on the team. "Bloody first impressions," John mumbled under his breath.

Holmes let out a laugh. "Please," he said, turning around to look at John. "Stop turning red. You're being ridiculous. No one cares if you're late to Levitz's class. He's just trying to establish some dominance over his class on the first day since he lacks any in his life. He's such a pushover. And you, you care too much what others think of you. Despite what Levitz says, being a minute late to biology will not have a major impact on you. But if you are late to my class you will regret it."

"Are you always like this?" John asked, taken aback by Doctor Holmes's bluntness.

"Somewhat," he replied, his gaze losing focus. Then it quickly snapped back as he narrowed his eyes and turned away from John to address the class as a whole. "Welcome to Chemistry 101! I'm going to teach you the basics of chemistry and if your simple minds can't handle it then please leave now before you waste any more of my time."

There were faint murmurs heard behind John. "Is it true we're all going to fail?" someone called out.

Holmes shrugged. "I wouldn't say all. That rarely happens. Most of you would be more precise." He glanced down at John, who saw what he assumed to be the briefest possibility of a wink. John pretended not to notice.

The class dragged on with notes and PowerPoints on different bondings and the trends on the periodic table of elements. John scribbled furiously in his notebook, making sure not to miss a word. He didn't care if most of the class failed, as long as he didn't fail. He couldn't fail. It wasn't an option.

When the class ended and everyone quickly rushed out of the room, John was stopped as he was placing his notebooks into his bag. "John, right?" It was Doctor Holmes.

"Yes, Doctor Holmes?" John said, looking up at the grey eyes focused on him.

"Call me Sherlock." He narrowed his eyes. "You're different, John."

"Different? Uh..."

Sherlock put up a hand to silence him. "Yes, different. Don't disappoint me. You can go now."

"I'll try not to." John finished shoving his books into his bag and left without looking back. But he could feel Sherlock's eyes on him as he walked away.

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