The Sherlock and Watson Association

Chapter 1

I am not a very good person at finding things. I happen to have a decent sized black hole under my bed that has a tendency to eat my socks or my English homework, so it clearly has terrible taste. I mean there are a lot of things to eat when you are a decent sized black hole living under the bed of 15-year-old girl in the heart of New York City. It could easily have eaten a TARDIS poster or one of my Sherlock t-shirts, but apparently this black hole has other ideas.

            I squinted through the darkness, as I tried to wiggle farther and farther under my bed,

            “Cathy, for heaven’s sake just wear a different pair of shoes,” said my mother as she put a generous amount of lipstick on her lips as I poked my head out from under the covers.

            “Fine,” I whispered, and slowly wiggled myself up into a standing position. My mom, though I loved her dearly, was not a person to argue with. She was a defense attorney, who had a hard time distinguishing between work life and home life sometimes.

She nearly sued some poor dude who accidentally bumped into us when we were driving home from Boston this summer, and threatened to call the police. I was sleeping peacefully in our silver Honda when I heard my mom scream,

            “DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW DANGEROUS THAT WAS!!! IF I DID NOT HAVE TO MAKE IT HOME IN TIME FOR MY BUSINESS CALL, I WOULD HAVE ALREADY CALLED THE POLICE BY NOW.” The poor guy nearly wet himself, and I got a lecture on driving etiquette and how-the-road-is-very-dangerous-and-I-should-be-careful.

Not wanting to repeat the previous disaster, I decided to wear my green sneakers, which was extremely disappointing, as I was in a TARDIS blue sort of mood.

            The color of my shoes is rather important, because most of my day is spent looking down at them, even though I do like looking up, and deducing things about people on the streets, which I am rather good at, if I do say so myself. The thing is I like to avoid eye contact, because that can be very awkward, especially if you are socially awkward, like me. My days are usually spent apologizing to inanimate objects as I walk into them, re-watching Doctor Who, and wasting my life on Tumblr, which is what today would be like, I thought as mom and I walked out of the door of the apartment building.

We were enveloped by the beautiful World that is New York. Whenever I walk outside, I always pause, as it is just like the start of every good Hallmark movie, as the main character looks outside with a 360-degree camera angle with a majestic look on his/her face as they decide that today will be the day, today is the day they conquer the World. This, however, is the only time I ever feel like I am in a movie.

I slowly looked over to the Hotdog vendor across the street and decided that he was about 30, with the ambition of becoming a cook since he was about 10 years old. I didn’t really decide why I thought that, I just did. I giggled quietly, I was such a Sherlock wanna-be.

“Be home by 5, love you” said my mother.

“Kay, love you too” I said, parting away from her. I let out a quick sigh and pulled the strings of my backpack as I walked through the streets of New York to The Beacon School.

I was a freshman there, and apparently the only one who did not play some sort of sport. I was busy think about other things. So the non-nerd folk decided to live normal lives, and I lived mine, mainly alone, trying to avoid them all.

I grabbed the straps of my backpack until my knuckles turned white, as I walked inside the brick building. I quickly turned my eyes to my green shoes, to avoid all possible eye contact with anyone and leave myself with a memory where I was extremely awkward, and the other person felt extremely awkward, and made my day any worse than I already thought it was going to be.

I wish I found the blue ones, I thought, as I lifted my eyes up for a dangerous moment to see if I was close to math yet. People zoomed by me, left and right as I made my way into my first period class. The lockers slammed, people yelled, shoes squeaked, and chatter filled my ears as I found my seat in the way back of the class. And quickly pulled out my Harry Potter book. I had already read the series too many times to count, but I happily lost myself in the world of werewolves and witches as people started filling in all the empty seats around me, and the bell rang. I slowly found the bookmark, and whispered

“Goodbye,” to the perfect trio that is Harry, Ron, and Hermione.