Note: I really couldn't help but write some of this out. Hope you enjoy. By the way, this is set in 2012 so please don't tell me that Sherlokc wouldn't have a smartphone. I just couldn't write his character without one!

John was fairly positive that Classroom 221b was similar to Waldo or the lost City of Atlantis: hidden to the point of nonexistence.

At least, that was the impression he was starting to get as he wandered aimlessly down the halls of his massive new high school. Twenty minutes had passed since his mom had dropped him off, and still, the numbering of classrooms made absolutely no sense to him. He exhaled loudly.

After passing the same statue of a stallion—the school's mascot—at least thirty times, John turned down an unfamiliar hall and found it.

He pushed open the door. A class of thirty students peered over at him. The teacher, a middle aged thing in an olive colored sweater, fell silent upon his arrival.

"Sorry I'm late, ma'am," John said. "It's my first day and, erm, I lost my way."

"Not to worry, Dear. You're the transfer student I was expecting, yes?"

John nodded then scanned the class. New classes always looked the same, just a bunch of mildly curious faces. There were always some hot girls (mostly clad together), some really douchebag-looking guys, and a bunch of unmemorable faces. And this class was no exception.

The teacher went to her computer. "Let me just check you in," she said. "I'm Miss Todd, by the way."

John nodded again, feeling increasingly awkward before the class.

Then Miss Todd, the students, and John himself turned to face the door as it swung suddenly open. Standing in the doorway was the tall, lean figure of a boy holding a smartphone. Clad in a black button-up, he was just slightly more neatly-pressed than a typical student. But that wasn't what caught John's attention. No, there was something else about his effortless yet careful footsteps as he swaggered across the room. Almost as if each step had a distinct purpose. With his dark curls and the sharp, pale features of his face, the boy somehow managed to be awkward and agile and arrogant all at once. All within a couple of steps.

"Sherlock Holmes," spat Miss Todd, all the sweetness instantly missing from her voice. "Put that phone away... And you are aware that class started 20 minutes ago?"

The boy's hand remained stagnant around his phone. He merely glanced at the board which had some names scribbled across it. "A study of the development of the early European sonnet?" said the boy. "I see I didn't miss much."

"Well, you also missed the introduction of your newest classmate," Miss Todd said, changing the subject as if to mask her irritation.

The boy glanced at John then back at his phone's screen. "It must be difficult, eh? Moving schools as much as you do, all because of your Dad's employment. He serves in which branch of the military? Oh, and that's not even to mention having to leave your girlfriend behind at your old school. And mid baseball season! Tis, tis, such a shame. You being starting pitcher and all. Oh, where are my manners?" he held out his hand and looked up from his phone for the first time. "It's Sherlock Holmes."

John shook the outstretched hand, trying to guise his pronounced confusion. "I'm sorry but, how did you know all that?"

"Sherlock— " Miss Todd warned.

His words came fast and sharp, and John couldn't help but listen blankly.

"You've transferred here in the middle of a semester yet you don't look nervous in the least. On the contrary, you seem quite bored. So you move often then. So what possible career choice would cause a family such abundant relocations? I'd say big business, but no, the state of your clothing is far too modest for that. Modest and dull, so clearly you don't belong to some clan of hippie nomads. The military then, an obvious fit. You've got a bead bracelet on your right wrist. You're too masculine to have made that yourself. So it was a gift, correct? From a girlfriend, judging by the care in which it's been preserved. And then you've also got the obvious stature of an athlete. Not soccer, because you lack the tan lines on your shins. Not basketball or football do to your… erm, unfortunate lack of height. Baseball was my best guess. And that symbol on the pin on your bag right there, MVHS. A quick Google search for Manson View High School's Baseball roaster told me that there are only three juniors on the varsity team this year. So unless you're Juan Pablo Alverez or Stacey Albot—" he flashed him the roaster he'd pulled up on his cell phone, "then it's nice to meet you, John Watson."

John merely gaped at the boy. After a while, he said, "That's amazing, brilliant."

"Yeah, you get used to it," said some guy in the front of the class.

"I got everything right then?" asked Sherlock with a sly sort of smile.

"Almost," said John, holding up his wrist. "But the bracelets from my kid sister."

"Dammit," he muttered. "No girlfriend at all then?"

"No. But still," said John, "amazing."

"You hear that, Holmes?" said the same guy. "He's impressed and single. Maybe you should ask the poof to homecoming."

Laughter erupted throughout the classroom, and John couldn't keep a blush from invading his cheeks.

"Enough!" Said Miss Todd. "Boys, take a seat."

Sherlock shuffled quickly to a seat in the back of the class. Seeing as it was a doubles desk, John took the only other available seat beside him.

"Idiots, all of them," Sherlock mumbled.

"You figured all that stuff out," said John, "like magic."

"Not magic," he said. "Deduction."