The sociopathic genius. (Discontinued.)

Introductions and Interogations.

                                                                Chapter 4.

"But it doesn't make sense John."

"You don't have to tell me Sherlock. I was there remember."

"I have to solve it. I need to know who did it and why they did it."

"Again you don't need to tell me, but stopping half an hour for lunch won't hurt."

"I don't eat while I'm on a case."

"You don't eat on the first day back, you don't eat while you're on a case and you don't eat when you're busy thinking. In short, you don't eat at all."

"Eating slows my brain down and my brain is the most important. Everything else is transport and therefore unimportant."

"Sod this. You are having breakfast with me and you will eat."

"I think not."

"You're having breakfast this morning even if I have to force you."

"That would be tremendously ambitious of you."

John raised an eyebrow pointedly. Sherlock gave a sigh of exasperation. The two friends had known each other for no more than ten days yet they had already reached the point where they didn't always have to speak to get the other to understand. "Seriously Sherlock they are not all that bad" said John "Greg is ok, so is Molly. I agree Anderson is a total butt head along with his mates. On reflection the football team aren't very nice, neither are those girls who sit around gossiping in the toilets. Actually they're all rather nasty. Maybe you're right to stay away from them after all." Sherlock gave a small smile. "Of course I'm right, I'm always right" he gloated. "However as your doctor I demand that you at least eat your breakfast even if you don't socialize" John added in a mock serious voice. "My doctor?" gasped Sherlock, laughing. John began to feel rather awkward. But to his surprise Sherlock stood up (having stopped laughing), picked up a book from the nearest pile and headed for the door. "Coming then?" he asked John. With a bemused smile John nodded then followed Sherlock out the door. You could never tell what you were going to get with Sherlock, John thought to himself as they made their way through the school. He would either glare at you and call you an idiot (this happened disappointingly often) or he would smile and play along. You never knew which way he would go. It did depend, to some extent, who was involved. If Anderson was the one putting him in the firing line then the likelihood of Sherlock finding anything funny was minimal. As Sherlock had been working on a case John had fully expected to be shunted aside for his constant nagging however the real outcome had been completely different. This unpredictability of Sherlock's could be rather hard to grasp for most people but John found it relatively easy to deal with. He was though, very curious to find out why Sherlock was the way he was. At that moment John was forced back into reality as they entered the dinner hall, a place where it is impossible to focus on anything (including your own thoughts) due to the overpowering racket. John could understand why Sherlock hated this place. Sherlock sat down in his usual spot while John went up to the canteen to get them both some food. He returned laden with a full English breakfast (for himself) and a plate of jam on toast (for Sherlock) to find his best friend engrossed in a book entitled The Great Gatsby and thus to preoccupied to eat anything. Wrenching the book out of Sherlock's hands John sat down and started to eat. Sherlock gave John a dirty look then grudgingly turned his attention to the food on his plate. 10 minutes later John was just having a drink when Sherlock suddenly leapt forwards and shook John's arm vigorously. "Oi Sherlock, what was that for?" cried John, who's tea had spilt all down his front. "New kid" muttered Sherlock. He nodded in the direction of the door. "That's still no reason to throw tea all other me" John grumbled, turning to look in the same direction as Sherlock. Sherlock was, as always, right. There was indeed a new boy entering the room. He had short black hair (neatly combed), brown eyes and was wearing blue slim cut jeans, trainer, a close fitting white V-neck t-shirt and a brown jacket. For someone who was in a new place surrounded by strangers he seemed very relaxed. "What do you think of him?" Sherlock muttered as he turned to face John once more. "Well what do you mean by that?" john asked, curious.