Just Johnlock- The Big Book of One Shots

Detention By Design

Sherlock leaned against his locker, clicking the button of his jacket against the cold metal and watching in disgust as the football team passed. They always moved in a pack, he had no idea why, but in the hallways and around school the whole of the team moved together like a great herd, trampling students, ogling at girls and overall making themselves look like a bunch of brainless idiots, which incidentally is what they were anyway. They had a very good way of keeping up their reputation, not that they could possibly spoil it. That was the thing with football players, somehow they were all attractive, they were all funny and confident and rebellious, and the only way Sherlock could imagine they could be discredited was if they got good grades and treated other humans with respect. So, of course, he hated them. Sherlock Holmes had a brain, which already made him inferior to the footballers, and then of course there was the fact that he was the biggest loser in the entire school. Not only did that team treat him like dirt, but even the sweetest, quietest kids wanted to throw him a nasty look in the hallway or comment on how much product he used in his curls. Molly told him they were jealous, but then again, she was pathetically optimistic.
"Oh stop looking at them Sherlock, you're being too obvious." Molly insisted, appearing next to him and prying her locker open. Thankfully their last names both started with an H, so they were right next to each other and could judge people as they walked through the halls. Molly was his best, well, his only friend, a quiet, peaceful, rule following book nerd who always respected people and smiled and wore bows in her hair. Sherlock had no idea how they even got along, sure he was a good student but god, if he had to follow every single rubbish rule those teachers coughed up he might just drop school entirely.
"I'm not being obvious, I'm just looking." Sherlock shrugged, scanning through the pack of footballs, varsity jackets, and blonde cheerleaders to pick out the only one that actually mattered. Molly just jabbed him with her elbow and Sherlock rolled his eyes, turning his head away for a moment and just caught a glimpse of that beautiful golden hair going around the corner, pushing some poor freshman into the lockers in a violent attempt to show dominance throughout the hallways.
"He's beautiful." Sherlock breathed, and Molly just groaned, shutting her locker with a snap and arranging her books in a neat little pile in her arms.
"He's horrible, I don't know why you even bother with him." she insisted. Sherlock just sighed, picking up his backpack and batting his eyelashes innocently at her.
"Don't you appreciate the beauty of true love?" Sherlock wondered, and Molly frowned.
"You've never talked to him, he's never said a decent word to you, I'm not sure he even knows your name." Molly decided, staring up at Sherlock with a determined little look, the look she wore when she knew she was right.
"Well I'm terribly sorry, but it's not so easy talking to the start football player when he has a girlfriend." Sherlock debated, pouting a little bit at the thought of John loving someone else.
"It's not Mary who's the problem, it's the fact that you're a guy, and so is he. If you were a beautiful female cheerleader he would dump her this second." Molly pointed out.
"But she's a beautiful cheerleader, or so I'm told. All I see is the disfigured face of a demon." Sherlock said dramatically, and Molly's frown deepened.
"Whatever you say Sherlock." She sighed. Sherlock checked his reflection in the little mirror he had hanging inside his locker, twisting one of his black curls around his finger so that it looked a bit perkier.
Sherlock sighed, checking his reflection one last time before grabbing his text book and shutting his locker with a frown.
"I actually know a way you could get some quality alone time with him." Molly pointed out, and Sherlock just glared suspiciously. She was probably going to recommend some church bake sale or football car wash or something absurd like that.
"John Watson was caught cheating on a test, wrote all his notes on his hand. He's been put in detention for a whole week, and you know that detentions aren't common around here. I'd be willing to guess that the detention room will be completely empty." Molly said, and Sherlock dared a hopeful smile.
"He'll be sure to notice me there." Sherlock muttered, and Molly nodded in agreement.
"You've just got to get yourself in trouble, which, for you at least, won't be a big feat at all." Molly pointed out, looking guilty for just suggesting the idea.
"What test was it?" Sherlock wondered, and Molly just laughed, shaking her head.
"It was Spanish, and he ended up copying down the wrong words on his hand." Molly admitted. Sherlock sighed with a small smile, leaning against the lockers in a hopeful daydream.
"Why are the pretty ones always so dumb?" he wondered, and with that he headed down the hall, already thinking up a way to get himself into detention with the beautiful John Watson. It wasn't terribly difficult to think of something to get in trouble for, in fact the idea came to his head as soon as he walked into Mr. Anderson's history class. There was only one person in this school district that was stupider than John Watson, and somehow that person had acquired a teaching degree. Mr. Anderson was by far the worst teacher Sherlock had ever encountered, simply because he managed to teach the wrong information throughout the entire school year. He never worked from the book and he never bothered to make sure his information was accurate before blurting it out to a bunch of students to write down. Today as Sherlock was sitting through yet another boring, historically inaccurate lesson he decided that enough was enough, and if he was going to get into detention he might as well do the school a favor.
"And then in 1685, President Lincoln was sitting in the Globe Theater, enjoying a production of Romeo and Julius, and a man by the name of James Wilkes Tooth snuck in behind him and stabbed him in the back with a bayonet!" Mr. Anderson said excitedly, his stupid mustache wrinkling up as he smiled. Sherlock sighed, raising his hand high enough so that the poor excuse for a teacher could see it.
"Yes, Mr. House?" Mr. Anderson asked, obviously thrilled to see participation in his class.
"Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, and I have a question." Sherlock muttered lamely, leaning forward on his desk for dramatic purposes.
"Well I should hope so; you did raise your hand." Mr. Anderson agreed with a large, annoying smile.
"I was just wondering how on Earth you could be so pathetically stupid and still get a license to teach?" Sherlock wondered, and for a moment Mr. Anderson froze, looking completely shocked. An uneasy silence hung over the classroom, and his mustache twitched in anger as Sherlock stared at him with a little antagonizing smile.
"I'm...I'm sorry?" he muttered, staring for a moment as if he thought he wasn't hearing things right.
"James Wilkes Tooth? Honestly? Mr. Anderson if you want to even pretend to be intelligent, at least shave that horrible bunch of grey hair off of your lip, we all know what you had for breakfast just by looking at what's caught in your pathetic mustache." Sherlock muttered with a shrug, and Mr. Anderson took a step back in defeat.
"Mr. Holmes I'm offended, how dare you treat your teacher with that kind of disrespect!" Mr. Anderson exclaimed.
"Oh, so you do know you're a teacher? Good, I was under the impression that the school board was playing a practical joke on you." Sherlock decided.
"DETENTION!" Mr. Anderson shrieked, shaking as he said it as if he were afraid Sherlock was going to insult him some more. Sherlock pretended to look shocked, but in reality there was a smile hidden behind his hands.
"Detention, no, anything but detention!" he exclaimed, contorting his face into the most scandalized look he could.
"Detention for an entire week!" Mr. Anderson added, looking very proud of himself for getting that much of a reaction.
"Oh, but what did I even do?" Sherlock asked with a gasp.
"You know full well what you did, and I'll see you today after school." Mr. Anderson snapped, and went on with his pitiful lesson. Meanwhile, Sherlock was smiling proudly, leaning back in his seat so that Mr. Anderson couldn't see. John Watson, get ready to meet your soulmate.