Sherlock sat alone at lunch, as usual. He watched the pupils pass him, making mental deductions. Cheating on her boyfriend. Alcoholic mother. Brother in the army.
He was suddenly aware of another person at the end of the table. He looked up, and saw a young boy sitting at the end of a table, staring into his sandwich as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Then he brought it to his mouth, and took a small bite, as if he suddenly didn't trust the bread and jam any more.
Sherlock studied his face. He was blonde, good looking, short, but he looked like a cuddly kind of person.
A new pupil. Sherlock decided. He lost interest, and turned, watching the people pass him.
When he got bored of that, he placed his book on the table, and began to read. But then he felt like someone was staring at him intently. He looked up. The new pupil sat in front of him.
"Hello, yes, what do you want?" Sherlock asked impatiently.
The pupil moved their hands, smiling at Sherlock the whole time.
He's deaf. Sherlock thought. When the pupil stopped signing, Sherlock shook his head, and held out his arms, as if to say, I don't understand you.
The pupil's face fell a little. Sherlock sighed, and rummaged through his bag, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen.
He wrote on the piece of paper; Write what you want to say.
The pupil grinned and nodded, taking the pen and writing slowly. He was left handed, Sherlock noted.
Sherlock took the paper when he was finished. It read: Hi, my name's John. You looked lonely. He'd drawn a sad face next to the word, "lonely,"
Sherlock wrote back, I'm Sherlock.
John answered, Nice to meet you, Sherlock.
And you John.
And so their paper conversation continued.
Why are you sitting on your own anyway? –John
I always sit on my own. –Sherlock
It's doesn't bother me. I can go to my mind palace. –Sherlock.
Oh, cool. How old are you?
We're in the same year then.
Yeah! We won't have any classes together though :-( I am stuck in the Special Needs classes.
Why did you move to this school?
This is my first school. I've been home schooled until now.
If you don't mind me asking, how long have you been deaf for?
My whole life. I was born like this.
I'm sorry to hear that. No pun intended.
Haha! It's fine. If I want to talk to someone who can't sign, I write. Like this!
Do you have any siblings, John?
Yeah, my sister Harry. She's annoying. I think she's in her last year at this school. You?
A brother Mycroft. He's left now. Work's for the government.
What's your surname, John?
It's nice to have a chat with someone. Everyone is avoiding me. I'm a freak I suppose.
You're not a freak. I am.
How? You're normal!
I know things about people.
That's stalking! :-O
I can find out things about people just by looking at their clothes.
Go on then.
Sherlock scribbled furiously as he wrote, looking at John every now and then. But before he could pass the note, the bell rung. Sherlock scored out what he had written, and wrote: Goodbye.
The bell has rung.
Oh right. Thanks. We're the biology wing?
It's on my way to science. I'll show you.
And the two boys walked in silence up to the class.
That night, after school, John sat in his room, watching Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince with subtitles.
Harry slipped into his room and sat on the end of his bed.
How was school? She signed.
Alright. John signed back.
Anyone bully you? Harry signed, a look of concern on her pretty face. John rolled his eyes.
Did you make any friends?
I think so.
His name is Sherlock Holmes.
In the same city, about 20 minutes away, Sherlock was searching for his brother.
"MYCROFT," He yelled. He turned, and came face to face with his brother. He jumped.
"What is it brother?" Mycroft asked.
"Take me to the library," Sherlock demanded.
"I want to learn sign language,"
"Why on earth do you want to learn sign language?"
"There's a new boy at my school. John. He's deaf. I want to be friends with him. We spoke at lunch. Well, we didn't speak, we wrote on a piece of paper," Sherlock rattled off.
Mycroft grinned at his younger brother, "Alright, I'll get the car,"
A/N: This is what went down as I wrote this:
Shame on you, Amy! You already have five stories to write and your starting a new one.
But I wanna write this one! :-(
And you're never going to update it or you'll delete it after the first chapter, just like the others.
Shutup! If I get reviews I won't! You just don't understand!
Of course I understand. I am you. Your talking to yourself.
Oh, piss off.