THE DAY I MET HIM

Disappearance.

It felt odd going into Professor Smyth's room after the weirdness of yesterday. We all sat down and got our books out, waiting expectantly waiting for the Professor.

There was a loud hum of chat all across that classroom.

The oak doors slammed open with such a force a silence settled over the room. A man stomped in and sat down at the professor's desk. His bushy eyebrows stuck out like caterpillar was in invading his face.

"Smyth isn't here today so I'll be taking over this lesson. Don't talk. Don't interrupt me and don't answer back." He growled.

The next hour was mind numbingly dull. We did twice as much work as we usually did in out literature lesson.

Whilst we were in the middle of annotating a Shakespeare extract when Sherlock leaned over and whispered into my ear...

"He's lying,"

"What are you on about?!" I asked.

He nudged my shoulder and nodded toward the desk.

"His hasn't gone, his briefcase is still here,"

I looked over and there it was, resting on the edge of the desk. What did that mean? Where was he?

I was starting to panic now. After yesterday's weird conversation I could tell that he wasn't gone simply because he was ill. Something had happened, and we had to find out what.

****

The lesson continued as it did before, dull as ever. When the bell rang out we were all glad. This time Sherlock and I were so keen to get out there we threw our stuff into our bags and let the crowd carry us out.

Everyone headed off to the green or the library and slowly there was left an empty corridor. Sherlock grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the cupboard.

I felt around the storage cupboard's walls, hunting for a light switch. I felt the flimsily piece of string a tugged it. A single lightbulb hanging precariously from the ceiling crackled, hissed them began to slowly burn brighter and brighter. I looked over at Sherlock and saw he was staring straight at me. His gaze fixated on my eyes.

"Sherlock...." I said "why are we in here?"

He looked over and raised his eyebrows in his pompous manner. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small scrap of paper.

"This was stuck under our desk,"

He pressed the scrap into palm. I got it, unfolded it and flattened it out. It contained two, simple words.

'The Library'

I looked down, confused. I turned it over expecting more, expected instructions or a map at the very least.

I looked over to Sherlock. He smiled at me. One of those smiles that lit up his entire face. I could tell he was happy to have a mystery to solve.

"I guess we know where to start looking now," he said.

We both looked at each other. I looked at his wild brown curls and his warm, dark eyes.

Neither of us felt like leaving the safety of the cupboard. We leaned against the wall and slid down until we hit the floor. We just sat their, chatting, enjoying each other's company.

We only begrudgingly got up when the bell for next lesson went.

****

It was the end of and eventful, tiring week and I was ready for a break. I snuggled down in between the thick, scratchy sheets and close my eyes tight.

The hoarse sound of the long breaths for the other girls in my dorm had become a comfort. It reminded me even if it felt like I was alone, if I was in the dark and couldn't see a light there was still someone there.

I didn't realise it then but I had strong feelings for Sherlock Holmes. He was all the excitement, all the adventure, all the truth and joy I needed in my life. He was my friend.