Faults of the Fallen - Sequel to Impossible

Chapter six

((AN: yes. I know I haven't updated. Forgive me. I had no idea what to write and I managed to get into three new shows so it becomes difficult to catch up with school, let alone wattpad))

Sherlock:

"Mr. Holmes, are you listening?" he professor asked. I nodded slowly, looking up, and cleared my throat.

"You were explaining how to catch and immobilise a hippocampus. But I already know the exact procedure. Must I listen to everything?" I replied.

"Can you recite the procedure you know so well then?" He offered.

I sighed, and reluctantly began informing the class. It was simple stuff. You could read it in almost any book you picked up from Flourish and Botts. Of course, the teacher hadn't been expecting me to be able to do it. That was the problem with new teachers. Still, after hat, he allowed me to sit and do my own thing for the rest of the lesson, as long as I was quiet.

Who would I talk to anyway?

At the end of the lesson, I sat back for a minute to read what I'd written. I didn't remember actually writing it at all.

John,

While you're my best friend, and I'd hate to do anything that would jeopardise our friendship, I can't help feeling something a little more... significant for you. There's a difference between how I feel about you, and how I feel about, say, Molly. I think you'd see where this is going by now, and I'm sure you're not overly fond of the main message of this note (why would you be. It is me, I guess), I figure I should at least make an attempt to create some sort of purpose to this note.

As you probably know, there's a dance of sorts coming up. I don't fancy myself the dancing type, but I thought that maybe this year I'd see if I could go. Of course it depends on the person I'm going with... And I mean, if you've already made plans to go with someone else (which you probably have. In which case, forget this. It's meaningless), well...

Oh, sod it. John, do you want to go to the dance with me.

-SH

I shuddered at the note I'd subconsciously written, and scrunched it up before shoving it in my pocket. John was my friend. Perhaps I saw him as more than that, but leaving a stupid note - especially this one - would probably end with him not wanting to talk to me ever again. Perhaps it's better to stick to my non-dancing lifestyle. It suited me more.

Still, though, as the day wore on, I found myself more and more tempted to reach into my pocket and hand him the note.

There was something about John that was different. That was the thing that interested me the most. Still, better to have some sense of dignity while doing important exams.

((AN: can you tell I had nothing to write about?

In other news LITERALLY DYING OVER HERE. WITH UNDER A WEEK UNTIL THE DAY OF THE DOCTOR, A MONTH UNTIL CHRISTMAS AND THE DOCTOR WHO CHRISTMAS SPECIAL AND YEP.

TWO MONTHS UNTIL SERIES THREE.

wish me luck to survive))