Slinging my bag over my right shoulder, I made my way out of mathematics -- the last lesson of the day. Today I had experienced my first day of high school. Well, my first day of high school at this school. I unfortunately started late during the second term, so I was behind in most of my lessons. But I was determined to catch up quickly so I wasn't behind on so much, even though I was only eleven years old. I still wanted to do good with my work.

"Excuse me," I stopped a boy in the crowded corridor who was talking to a group of his friends. "But do you know what room after school Chemistry club is in? With Mrs Thomas."

He snickered, "Chemistry club? Only Carl and Sherlock go there."

"Oh yeah," His friend cut in, "Creepy Carl and Stupid Sherlock!"

All of his friends laughed, and the mean group of boys started to make me feel uncomfortable. "What room is the club in?"

"It's in science four, on the second floor." He informed me, eyeing me up and down. "You're Ella right? We should hang out sometime!"

I looked him up and down, "I don't think so."

I hastily made my way towards science four, hoping I wasn't late considering school finished five minutes ago. I finally reached the second floor, and looked at each door until I found a label with 'science 4' printed on. I opened the door and as soon as I walked in I saw two boys sitting on opposite sides of the room reading textbooks, no teacher in sight. The room was silent and as I entered they both lifted their heads, making me feel slightly awkward. They looked at me as if I had just killed ten people.

Time to smile again.

I plastered a smile, to which a blonde boy returned but the dark-haired boy looked back down and continued to read. I closed the door behind me and slowly approached the dark-haired boy, mainly because he was closer and the other kid was all on the other side of the class. He also didn't smile, so I gathered he wouldn't go out of his way to bother me. But I knew they both must be here because they enjoy science, and I know I'll need a friend or two to get me through high school. Maybe eventually I could be friends with both, because considering the nicknames they were given they didn't have many.

"Hi. I'm Ella." I introduced, I might as well. I took a seat next to him. He looked up and met my eyes before he glanced around the room, wondering if I was talking to him or not.

"Hi." He responded, pausing for a moment. "Uh, this is Chemistry club."

"I know." I replied, unzipping my bag and bringing out my science text book.

"Who sent you here?"

"Myself," I answered, clearing my throat. "I like science."

"...You like science?" He questioned, a little taken aback. I nodded.

"Yeah."

"Oh." He seemed surprised but didn't bother saying anything after that. So I just looked down at my textbook, reading over the topic of acids and alkalis which was something I needed to catch up on, although I already knew what it was since I taught myself it at home once. But there was always room for improvement. The boy looked back down at his textbook too, but when I glanced at him he wasn't reading. He just seemed like he was deep in thought.

He lifted his head to face me again, and I quickly averted my gaze back to the text, acting like I was reading and not staring at him.

"So, is Ella short for something?" He asked. I looked up.

"Eleanor."

"That's nice. I mean, that's a nice name." He complimented awkwardly, "I'm Sherlock."

~

I woke up the next morning at the same time as the day before, my alarm clock blasting blatantly throughout my hotel bedroom. I let out a tired groan and rubbed my eyes, wiping away the remains of my dream, thinking maybe my last encounter with Sherlock provoked my mind to recall old memories from when we first met in high school. I sighed, staring up at the ceiling. I really missed how we used to be, so I just really hoped we could be good friends again.

I let out a yawn as I sat up, rubbing my fatigued eyes again, wanting nothing more than to rest some more to recover from the long and exhausting day yesterday. But I was determined to stay awake, knowing I'd feel alive once I've had something to eat and met up with Sherlock for the second time this week.

After an hour or so I finally got a message from Sherlock that read:

'Meet you at Speedy's cafe at 9 - SH.'

'Isn't that right outside your apartment?' I replied, to which he responded not even thirty seconds later.

'Yes.'

I shook my head softly, it was nice to know he was still lazy -- or at least, when he wanted to be. I got changed into another pair of skinny, black jeans and a white and black stripy, long sleeved shirt. I quickly finished the look by putting on my coat and black boots before I made my way outside into the bleak, London streets. I tucked my phone into my coat pocket before I began to walk towards my destination.

After walking for about twenty minutes, Speedy's cafe finally came into sight. I strolled across the street and entered the small cafe, the smell of baked cookies instantly hitting me, causing a smile to appear on my face. I saw Sherlock sitting down at a table near the back, a woman standing in front as she placed two cups of tea on the table. When she turned back around I noticed it was Mrs Hudson, and I sent her a smile as I passed her.

"Hi." I greeted, taking a seat opposite him.

"Hello." He said, gesturing towards the tea and small sachets of sugar that were placed on a small tray. "I haven't put any sugar in yet, but you like your tea with two sugars, correct?"

I nodded. His voice travels through me like molten honey. I never knew a persons voice could have such an impact. It's deep, but not too deep, with the slightest touch of hoarseness. And those eyes -- I could get lost in them for days. "So you remembered." I vocalised, picking up two of the sugar sachets and ripping them open before tipping the grains into my tea.

"I remembered." He mused back, watching me as I stirred my tea. "Was that a smile I saw just?"

"Mhm?"

"To Mrs Hudson."

"Oh, yes. Maybe. I learned that smiling was a polite thing to do. So I guess now I only give out smiles to those who deserve such acts of kindness from me." I half-joked as I took a sip of my tea. I could smile at anyone now, but never to someone I knew I disliked.

"And do I deserve to be a victim of your acts of kindness?" Sherlock asked, his voice deep and one-toned as usual but I knew he was being playful.

"No." I lied, which became apparent when I met his eyes and a smile tugged at my lips. The act made him smile too, despite trying to hide it. I decided to change the subject.

"So, eleven years." I started, "What have you been up to?"

He shrugged softly, "Not much, really. I graduated university, got the grades I needed. It wasn't too hard." He explained to me, although he didn't bother to go into detail about anything.

"So, why a consulting detective? What even is that? I've never heard of that before."

"A consulting detective provides expert advice professionally, and because I favour reason and logic above all I can help solve the cases the police cannot do by themselves. I don't want to work for the police, too many rules and people. Plus the majority of the cases they endure are boring. So instead I insist the police on their most baffling cases. I solve them with astute observation, which is and has always been one of my favourite traits." He rambled, and I could tell he was trying not to smirk. He didn't go into detail about university but he did about his work, the little show-off.

"Very nice." I nodded slowly, the edges of my lips lifting into a small simper. "You favour reason and logic above everything?" 

"Yes."

"So... no girlfriends? Boyfriends?"

"What? No." He shook his head as if the idea was ridiculous. I furrowed my brows at him.

"Like, never?"

"Never." He confirmed.

"But you get laid, right?"

"What?" He widened his eyes slightly, taken aback by my question. He met my eyes, and he just stared at me whilst I look at him impatiently, waiting for his answer. "What was it like to live in Italy?"

"You don't get laid?!" I asked him, rather loudly may I add. He sent me an irritated look but I couldn't help but to be curious. We were once best friends after all, and best friends talk about this kind of stuff.  Maybe not Sherlock, but I could always try and get it out of him. "Have you ever, like... you know."

"Eleanor, please." He practically begged me to stop talking about it. I gave him a look of concern. I don't know how he was copying without sex. It feels great, for one. Not to mention that it slashes stress and encourages the growth of brain cells, thus making you more intelligent. Besides, he didn't give me an exact answer. He must have tried experimenting once, right?

"Okay, okay." I agreed, leaning back in my chair, lifting my mug up and taking a sip of my tea. I didn't hate or blame him for not finding a partner, because Sherlock had always struggled to make friends or to understand emotions well, even when we were kids. "Your turn to ask the questions."

"I already did," He said, "What was it like to live in Italy?"

I shrugged softly, "It was good. I lived with my aunt once I was there. She wasn't one I could talk to about everything but she cared." I answered, leaning forward again and propping my elbows on the table. "I went to Università degli Studi, and studied English, Science and History. I visited London every now and again, but it was never the same. So I decided to move back here officially."

"And you're staying in a hotel?"

I chuckled, "How could you tell?"

"You smell slightly of standard airline shampoo and you keep cranking you neck to the side, clear signs you haven't slept well because the bed you're sleeping on is too uncomfortable. And you clearly haven't got enough money to afford a good quality hotel, you hardly had any change yesterday when you paid that cab driver or for short, Jeff -- the culprit to those 'mystery' suicides. He would have probably killed you too. Thankfully I showed up. You are welcome." He spoke so casually, it threw me back sometimes.

"I can't believe I was alone with him in a cab!" I shook my head, it was hard to fathom I was in the same car as a killer. It just proved further that people really are capable of anything. "Yeah, I'm looking for a new apartment. Not getting any luck though." I told him with a soft sigh.

"I can get Mrs Hudson to rent you the flat below mine and Johns."

"What? I mean... that would be fantastic! I don't want to be a bother or anything though."

"Nonsense," He shook his head slightly, "I helped her out once, plus it's suffering from black mould on the walls so I'm sure she'll shorten the rent. I can be very convincing."

"Black mould?" I grimaced.

"You'll sort it out easily enough. Call a handyman or someone. So, if you want, I'll speak to Mrs Hudson." He offered, "It'll be nice to ... see you around, more."

"Well, I guess we won't be able to escape each other if I live just below you." I chuckled. "Thank you, Sherlock."

He met my eyes, and a smile reached his lips before he quickly changed the topic in conversation. "Black mould is otherwise known as Stachybotrys Chartarum. I can give you the details to help you tackle the issue of the matter of you wish."