Chapter 1

Sherlock's POV

I walked through these dreadful school hallways, ignoring the glances and whispers. Everybody was talking about me. Whatever for? I had just proven that one of our science teachers was a serial killer and to top it, that he sexually assaulted three female students, whom of which, did not say a word because he was threatening them with photographs.

I have been congratulated by the officers at Scotland Yard, who, to say the least, were a little bit embarrassed that a sixteen year old high school student could figure out all this without a lead. It wasn't hard, people just make it hard. God, people are such idiots. Everything is so simple yet they just have to go about and make it difficult for them.

Idiots.

The bell rang, dismissing the students and suddenly the hallways were quiet and empty except for a couple of students who slammed their locker doors in a hurry. I walked into my Chemistry classroom, and all eyes were on me. I gritted my teeth together and took my seat.

I hate attention.

I stared at my thirty-three year old Chemistry teacher, whose hands were slightly shaky and whose pants, shirt and hair made him look like he was in a hurry to get to school. Or he could have been shagging Miss Child, the redheaded Math teacher up on the second floor. By the red hair that clung to the back of his dress shirt, and the poorly washed lipstick on his neck, I'd say he was. How unfaithful of him, his poor girlfriend is so oblivious. I would guess that his little affair has been going on for six months at least.

He made eye contact with me, and immediately looked away.

I smirked.

"Um, attention class!" Mr Hamilton announced, looking towards the classroom door. "We have a new student among us. Come in, John." Mr Hamilton waved over a very shy looking male.

He had blonde hair, bright eyes and around five foot five in height. His backpack slung over his right shoulder, his right hand clinging to the strap. For some reason, I found him mysterious.

"This is John Watson. He just switched schools so please be kind to him. Take a seat back there." Mr Hamilton waved John over to the seat at my left, which had always been empty.

John Watson sat at his assigned seat, and avoided eye contact with everybody in the room.

The rest of the day went smoothly, and the principle congratulated me privately in his office and about what a bright kid I am. I stiffly smiled, shook his hand and left the office.

I went home, ignored Mycroft and everybody else and stayed in my bedroom. It was a decent day.

Up until that night, when I went to sleep.

I dreamed, something that I never did before. If I had, I probably deleted it from memory. No need for pointless memories or information.

I dreamed that I was walking down a sidewalk, hand in hand with someone, running away from something but I didn't know what. It was dark out and very cold, so cold that the ground began to frost.

"Come on!" The person that held my hand shouted. "We have to keep running!"

I looked at my right, to which the person was standing, and my breath caught in my throat.

It was John Watson.