Well, I'm back, cause I felt like it.
"What am I, who am I?"
Sherlock turned to see the slick hair of his frenemy.
"I'm not playing," Sherlock said slamming the lock onto his locker and storming off down the hall.
"Ah, but I know you want to, old buddy pal," Jim said racing ahead of Sherlock.
"Get out of my way," Sherlock said sternly.
"Come on, just take one guess," Jim whined. He grabbed the hand of Sherlock's which wasn't holding books and pulled it close to his chest.
"Just one guess. It doesn't even have to make sense. Just say the first thing that comes to mind," Jim pleaded, reminding Sherlock of a 4 year old asking his mother for a cookie before bedtime. Sherlock stopped struggling to pull his hand back. Jim's words rang through his head. The first thing that comes to mind...
"Fine," Sherlock said, ripping his hand from Jim's grasp. "But do you really want me to say the first thing that comes to mind?"
"Yes," Jim said with a wicked smile. Sherlock looked passed Jim's shoulder, then looked behind himself. The hall was pretty empty, only one or two people were in view. Of course, it was only 8:05, so not many people were at school anyway. Sherlock looked down the hall again, then something on the ground caught his eye. It was a small capsule-like thing with a clear lid. Smudges of red were on the inside of the cap which made it look unsanitary, but it was probably fine.
"Lipstick," Sherlock said. Jim laughed and jumped up and down.
"Wow, you are really willing to share so much with me, my old friend," Jim said after he spun around a few times and leapt around the hall a bit.
"You do realize," he said, coming close to Sherlock to whisper into his ear, despite the lack of people to listen to their conversation, "that you just gave me a summary of everything happening in your head."
"No I didn't. There is a stick of lipstick lying on the ground over there," Sherlock said as he pointed. Jim laughed again, this time it was a lot drier.
"But you found it significant enough to tell me about it, so there must be some kind of connection in your mind that made you choose lipstick," Jim whispered. He smiled then turned and walked over to the lipstick. He picked it up and uncapped it, swiping a line of red onto the back of his hand.
"This seems like a very familiar shade or red, doesn't it?" Jim said, with a light smile. Sherlock clenched his jaw. When Jim had begun to walk over to the lipstick, Sherlock had deduced who's it was and then he realized how stupid his subconscious mind was. Sherlock held his books a little tighter.
"You better return it to her," Jim said as he capped the lipstick, then tossed it to Sherlock. Sherlock caught it with his free hand and quickly pocketed it. It happened so quickly it almost seemed like a drug swap, minus the fact that the lipstick blatantly flew through the air before it seamlessly disappeared. Jim blew Sherlock a kiss as he walked away down the hall.
"Did I guess it right?" Sherlock called to Jim down the hall.
"Obviously not," Jim laughed. "Two more guesses"
-:-:-:-
John plunked himself down in a seat in social studies. The room is empty. Even Ms. Hudson isn't there yet. John puts his note book on the table and takes out a pencil from his pencil case. There were only 10 minutes until the bell went. John twiddled his thumbs in silence. Back in Rivendell High, everyone was always hanging around in classrooms, sometimes even earlier than 10 minutes. John would always show up and have to pull up a new chair because his table was always so crowded with students. It felt strange to have dead silence in the classroom. Rivendell always has a buzz to it, wherever you went.
Sherlock entered. He came in quickly and pulled a chair out beside John.
"Good morning," John greeted.
"Morning," Sherlock replied. He pulled out a newspaper from his hands. John's eyes were caught by the large bold heading.
"What's this all about," he said, reaching out for Sherlock's paper, but Sherlock grabbed the paper and flipped the page to the daily crossword.
"My usual crossword-" Sherlock began, but John had snatched the paper from his hands. "Excuse me, that was mine."
"That was my old school," John breathed. The headline read "Rivendel High closing soon due to falling enrolment". He opened to the article page and began to read.
"Give it back," Sherlock demanded. John kept reading.
"...a surprise decline in enrolment has taken Rivendell High by storm... school will be closing by late September..." John read.
"Did I forget to say please?" Sherlock retorted.
"... all students will be transferring to Baker Secondary. Idle expansion set to be completed."
"EXCUSE ME?" Sherlock ripped the newspaper from John's limp grasp and read the article.
"This is insane! Do you know how many kids that's going to be? This school is going to be cramped and lethargic and-" Sherlock ranted on and on about how bad the school was going to get. John sat there, too shook to even acknowledge Sherlock's enthusiastic hatred.
"John?"
Their eyes met.
"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked. John looked down at his lap.
"I- I really don't like my old school..." John stated. Sherlock gazed over John's inward mannerisms.
Students filed in and Mrs. Hudson was now at her desk. The bell rang and class began. They worked in silence that class.
Before he knew it, class was over. Sherlock and John went out to their lockers, John getting his gym strip and Sherlock grabbing his math textbook. As Sherlock opened his locker, a small slip of paper flew out and down to John's feet. John bent over and picked it up. It was a mini envelope with a red ink stamp in the shape of a heart where the stamp would go for a normal postal envelope.
"You dropped this," said John, showing the envelope to Sherlock. Sherlock looked at it for a moment before gently taking it from John's palm. Sherlock opened it slowly. John glanced at the envelope, trying not to be too conspicuous while doing so. Sherlock pulled out a small piece of paper, folded in half.
"Are you kidding me," Sherlock said aloud.
"What?" John said, inching closer.
"It's a riddle..." Sherlock said, gritting his teeth momentarily. "From Jim." John held his breath for a moment, waiting for Sherlock to elaborate. He did not.
"Is it - um - a lo-"
"Love note? I guess so. Jim is absolutely infatuated with me and it's the most annoying thing," Sherlock said, tasting the word "infatuated" on his tongue before deciding it was quite sour. He held out the letter to John. John took it from Sherlock like it was radioactive. He disliked how okay Sherlock was with Jim's antics. It was hard to be in a room with the both of them. Two minds throwing grenades at one another, one. Quite frankly, it scared John. Jim pandered and Sherlock 'refused'. It was clear that if he really wanted Jim gone he would have destroyed him earlier, but he hasn't. He lets him pander. Maybe… Maybe he kind of likes it.
John looked down at the letter and began to read:
My dearest,
You've obviously been having a hard time with my simple guessing game, so I thought it would be kind of me to give you a little boost, my baby boy.
You've probably never heard of this one before: what's too much for one, enough for two, and too much for three?
Don't try and cheat, either. No internet.
See you around school, boo.
Jim M.
Ew. John handed Sherlock back the letter, feeling like his eyes had been tainted.
"Obviously, I know what it is," Sherlock announced. "Oldest one in the book. He really wanted me to figure this out quickly. But why…"
"What is it?" John asked, immediately regretting it. He probably looked pretty stupid right now. Sherlock gave him such a face, John's selfastem smashed through bedrock. Then something unexpected happened. Sherlock's face relaxed and he smiled.
"A secret," he said, looking down the hallway for no apparent reason. Sherlock looked back to him and their eyes met once again. Sherlock's normally stern and sharp features were softened, his eyes only seeing and not calculating the nature of the thing in front of them. John felt his insides turn to mush and his cheeks warmed. Suddenly, the calculations returned. John turned away, touching his cheek. Sherlock's brain began to run 300 kilometers an hour. He watched John blush and retreat from their eye contact. As Sherlock asked his question, John's heart stopped. He was frozen. He couldn't look up, he couldn't run away.
"Is there something I should know?"
"No," John lied.
The bell rang.
Dark, long hair, swept behind her as she approached Sherlock. "I believe you have something of mine?" said Irene. Sherlock pursed his lips and placed a stick of red lipstick in her hand. "Thanks," she said.
"Don't talk to Jim," Sherlock said, not looking her in the eye.
"You're not my father," she snorted. Irene kissed Sherlock on the cheek. "That would be gross." Then she walked off.
John also walked off.