Partners In Crime (A Teenlock fanfic!)

Prologue

I can still remember the first day I met Sherlock Holmes.

The deep frown, the wild bright teal eyes, the messy locks and the high voice which wined over spilled milk. Sherlock never really got over the fact that I accidentally bumped into him when we were four, making him spill his milk. He held a grudge against me for weeks after, always refusing to acknowledge my presence when I was near him and he was dead set against me playing with him at breaktime.

So you can imagine how badly he reacted whenever we fell out as we grew up. Not that we ever did really. That's what I treasured, still treasure, about Sherlock and I's friendship, we had barely ever argued. When we did it was normally over something juvenile like choosing which one of us would play the pirate and which one of us would play the monster when we played Pirates and Monsters. There was never much of a discussion, Sherlock was the pirate the majority of the time, whilst I was stuck with being the crummy monster every flipping game.

Sherlock was always rude to the other kids at school. He would never let me invite them to play with us and if I ever dared to he would spend the rest of breaktime sitting in a corner of the playground, with his arms crossed defiant across his chest and puffing his little cheeks in annoyance.

The other kids didn't take too kindly to Sherlock either, they mocked him for being brainy and would whisper snide comments whenever he came in close range of them. Sherlock was far too intelligent to be in our year group. The teachers constantly attempted to persuade him to skip a few years of school and move straight up to year six because he simply knew everything that was being taught too him, and in great depth too. He always refused to though. He would stick out his bottom lip in a pout, tilt his chin up in a rebellious manner and always say the same three words: "Not without John!"

Eventually the teachers gave up. As did the kids. They left Sherlock and I to a world of our own, where we would play by ourselves all breaktime and sit on a secluded tabe in the classroom. I didn't mind. It was us two against the world, partners in crime,two little trouble makers.

We would get into all sorts of trouble. One time, in year two, Sherlock insisted that we should break into the cantine and steal all the cookies. His reasoning at the time was: "I want cookies John, is that not a good enough reason to steal some? Too lazy to wait for lunch time! Plus we can practice our robbery skills!" Of course once he mentioned being a robber I followed him willingly. Thinking back I probably would have followed that boy to the ends of the Earth if he had asked me.

It was exciting to start with. We excused ourselves to use the loo, by this time our teachers honestly didn't seem to give a toss where we were. We were John and Sherlock so it didn't seem to matter. We crept down the hallways, pretending to do flips and ninja kicks, like we assumed robbers did when we were seven. I kept giggling like I was breathing in gas and air, Sherlock kept shushing me but I still remember the cheeky smirk that was plastered onto his chubby cheeks. When we reached the dining room, we could hear the faint chatter from the cantine. Sherlock pulled me to the grimy floor and we crawled under the dining tables in the dining room, creeping towards the closed cantine door as quietly as we could. When we reacher the door Sherlock pulled a paper clip out from his pocket in his jeans. He slipped it into the keyhole in the door which stood between us and the cookies, impatient noises slipped from his mouth as he jiggled the paper clip around in the keyhole for a good two minutes. Then finally the door swung open.

The cookies had been mouthwatering. We had recklessly hurried into the small cantine and went straight to the cookie box which was on a high shelf. Before I knew what was happening, Sherlock had pushed me onto my hands and knees, put his feet on my back and was stretching up to reach for the box. We never expected to knock the entire box off the shelf. Sherlock came tumbling off my back, falling to a heap on the floor and the cookies came with him. They were everywhere. Piles of them everywhere we turned. And oh my, they were heavenly. We sat there munching are way through an entire box of the cookies when the headmistress, Mrs. Fitzgerald, walzted through the door.