Elizabeth Watson (John Watson's daughter- Sherlock fan fiction)

Chapter 5- Avoidance

"How many criminals did you imprison last night then?" asked Elizabeth, scooping up the mug of tea and sitting down at the table. A physics book was balanced in one arm and she began to eat her cereal with her spare hand.

"More than expected." yawned John, flicking through the newspaper opposite her.

"Six... and a half." said Sherlock, sweeping into the kitchen and rifling through the cupboards.

"A half?"

"The last had been decapitated by his own foolishness aboard a boat."

"What time did you get home?"

"Two hours ago." said John with a sigh, "We got side tracked as we crossed over Tower Bridge, a boy had slipped off-"

"Jumped off." said Sherlock, who had now reached the fridge.

"With the intention of?"

"Dying."

"Well yes but..."

Sherlock was uninterested in the informing of the 'average mind'. He felt it a wasted energy, for he swept out of the room with the mustard powder clasped in his hands, and he did not look back.

"Taking your time this morning?" asked John, eyeing her from behind his newspaper.

"I'm in no hurry to get back to school."

"Liz, you have 10 minutes to make a 20 minute journey."

"I'll run."

"You'd better start running now."

The girl scowled and flipped closed the text book. She took a final swig of tea and dumped the cup by the sink, along with her bowl. Then she swept out of the room.

"I love you too!" called John as he heard the front door close.

*

'Good.' thought Elizabeth as she approached the school. She was late enough to avoid them. They always loved the first day back. Full of a fresh eagerness to taunt and manipulate.

Pushing at the form room door, all eyes turned to look at her.

"Good morning Elizabeth Watson." said Mrs Porter from her desk, "Nice of you to join us."

Elizabeth ignored her and sat down at her desk. A few faces smiled in polite greeting, and their kindnesses were equally returned, but Elizabeth enjoyed the neutrality of remaining detached from her peers. The seat next to her was empty, as usual, and she dumped her bag upon it.

"So," continued Mrs Porter, glaring at the girl, "I shall have to repeat the question- how many of you shall be attending this year's end of term celebration dinner event."

"It's called a prom Mrs Porter." sneered a deadly voice behind Elizabeth.

"Yes, thank you Eva." replied the teacher, "I think I am capable of running the class myself."

Eva gave a quiet snort of sarcasm but thankfully Mrs Porter was a little hard of hearing.

"Must I repeat the question again?!" the lady retorted.

Slowly hands begun to raise themselves but Elizabeth's remained firmly in her lap.

"Oh look," whispered the voice behind her again, "Watson's wimping out."

Elizabeth ignored her- she had had many years of practise already.

"I bet Watson's never worn a dress in her life. Bet she doesn't even know what a dress is."

Elizabeth's face remained blank.

"Probably get her detective friend to analyse it first."

Idiot.

But just then the door opened again and this time all eyes turned to somebody else.

"Oh look," said Mrs Porter in the same sneering tone, "here he is. Late on your first day- not a great start is it Elijah?"

The boy remained mute and gazed at the floor.

"Come and sit next to Elizabeth. Maybe you two could learn from one another."

The girl shifted her bag with hesitant reluctance.

The boy sat down and pulled the chair up, but didn't look at her. They sat like frozen statues, trying their best to pretend they were alone. The boy was nervous, his movements purposefully restrained, breathing milliseconds off its regular pattern.

And this is how he remained until the thankful shrill of the bell aroused their class and sent the pair on their way.