Hooked (teenlock)

Chapter Three

The next day went too slow for my liking, as Saturdays do. Being a student, I had no real work to do, no mysteries to solve. The only things I was able to solve were the pointless, uninspiring questions that I was forced to answer for the good of my grade- yes, homework. Of course, trivial matters like homework only took a few minutes for me, giving me more time to consider all of the things I could be doing (but, of course, none of the time needed to accomplish such tasks).

This weekend was only a little different, because along with the multiple complaints about my current lifestyle, my mind was also crowded with thoughts of John. Had I really become lucky enough to make a new friend? Such things never seemed to happen to me, as I was always drifting about alone, preferring to spend my time in my mind rather than face the real world. But this John seemed to have the power to pull me from my own mind, even to make me enjoy real life.

It was thoughts like these that raced through my mind as I ate my Shreddies (2.5 cups. 300 calories) Saturday morning ('morning,' of course, is a loosely used term here, as I was a teenager at the time (and, I suppose, not completely abnormal). A weekend 'morning' for me was really about one in the afternoon). These racing thoughts, however, were quickly stopped when my father entered the room and gave me the task of going to the corner shop to pick up a few groceries. Happily, I obliged, as anything was better than sitting around in the old house.

The corner store was about a mile away, but I chose to walk rather than ride a bike. Exercise has never been my forte. The bell over the door jingled loudly as I entered the small, cramped, place and the single cashier (43. Unmarried. Lonely. Cat lady) greeted me with a welcoming smile that I made no attempt to return.

There were only four aisles in the place, and each of them was equally small. There were far too many goods on the shelves for them to look at all orderly, but I didn't mind. The store had a cozy feeling to it, and, being familiar with it since childhood, it was a comfort.

Of course, the downside of a small store is the difficulty of avoiding someone you see there. This was a problem especially on that day, for as soon as I'd seen Molly Hooper, I knew that she would quickly notice me and make an attempt at conversation. Again.

I was proven correct (as usual), for as soon as she realized I, too, was shopping for groceries, she hurried over to me. "Sherlock? What are you doing here?"

I kept my attention on the collection of different cleaning sponges in front of me, trying to figure out which one would be best for getting rid of bloodstains (experiments were a messy job, but they provided the entertainment that was so difficult for me to find in any other subject). "Certainly not grocery shopping or anything."

From the corner of my eye, she looked taken aback, most certainly out of the surprise that I had actually acknowledged her. She soon seemed to realize the stupidity of her question, and quickly tried to recover what she must have imagined to be a cool, collected attitude.

She shifted around next to me, definitely nervous. "So... Have you done the science homework?"

"I don't care much for homework. Better things to do."

I selected a type of sponge, confident in my decision. My bedspread would be bloodstained no longer. I swiftly walked to the next aisle over, moving to my next task of picking the most energy-efficient light bulb.

Molly, like an awfully confused puppy seeking nothing but love and attention, followed. "But I thought- people say- well, aren't you like, really smart?"

"'Really smart' does not mean I do my homework."

"But, you know... People call you like, freaky smart."