You Are My Mystery {Sherlock Holmes}

Chapter 20*

I sit at the round lunch table with my new, so called friends. I don't have friends, and I haven't for a while. Making friends is difficult, at least this way I can make fake friends. I never really had real friends. Then I met Sherlock and I would consider him a friend. In his own, weird way he's a good person. Sure, he makes questionable decisions but don't we all? How do people have the time for friends? It's just more to worry about...

"Sheralynn Homes, the new kid who sasses the substitute professors," Says the body who sat next to me earlier in my Science class.

"I can't help it, Mitch." I smile, taking a bite of my buttery food. School food has never been particularly enjoyable. It's always greasy and poorly made.

"Where are you from?" He asks, "Not from around here, I can tell." His deep voice spits out as he chews his food. Disgusting— Can't he keep his food in his mouth? I eye him up and down, taking in his carefree appearance.

"North America. You can't tell from the accent?" I ask. I take a bite of the noodle pasta after finishing my hard breadstick.

Unintelligent.

"I never thought of it." Even more unintelligent.

We go back to silence, as the only thing we hear is each other eating our meals. The friends of his, sitting next to him talking. I tune in and out, laughing a fake laugh at certain parts and nodding at others. Then suddenly they all look up. By the looks on their faces I know exactly who's behind me. They quickly swallow their food before dismissing themselves. I curse myself, feeling Sherlock's presence behind me.

"We're going to dump our trays," I hear before they scurry off. I turn around calmly and casually and I look up to see Sherlock. Without saying a word, I turn back to my food and continue eating.

"I have a list of suspects," he says, waiting for me to respond but I don't. He's done nothing but get on my nerves lately. I can feel him standing there awkwardly.

"We aren't solving a murder. We're solving for a murderer. It's the luck of guessing and clues, 'Mr.Baines'," I state, trying to ignore the small amount of space between us. "I think we should work the case on our own," I state, standing up quickly and grabbing my tray. I whip around to face Sherlock, expecting him to have backed away from me but instead the tray is slammed into my chest. The food sticks to my shirt from the crash. I step back, the sauce from the noodles, stain my shirt. He steps back, his face totally emotionless.

"All right then," is all he says as I pick up the bit of dignity I have left. I wait for him to leave, and he does, taking large stride to get out of my presence. Trying to avoid any interaction with other students, I sigh before trailing off into the women's bathroom, taking deep breathes in an attempt to calm myself down.

That's when all of my emotions are released. I almost forgot that I had feelings, they hadn't been used in so long. I try not to care and I normally don't, but this time it hits home. I actually struggle not to cry. I don't remember the last time I have cried, and I don't plan on it anytime soon.

But I like to lie. So I do. I cry.

I walk into a bathroom stall, shutting the door before slumping onto the toilet, letting the tears stream down.

***

I don't know how long I have been in the bathroom in my mind palace. I don't know how long I have been in another world until I hear the sound of feet padding into the room. They suddenly stop causing me to hold my breath. I jump off the toilet, worry rushing through me.