The Tables Are Turned (Sherlock x OC)

Chapter 2

I woke up the next morning to my alarm going off, having overslept, and brushed my teeth, and hair, and threw on the clothes I had laid out last night.

I dashed outside and ran down my driveway, jumping in the bus just as it was about to close it's doors and drive away.

I dropped into the seat next to Sherlock and tried to regain my breath.

"You overslept again," he remarked.

"Thanks, I didn't notice," I said sarcastically. "Why didn't you wake me up? You do realize I sleep in the room right next to you."

"I set an alarm to give you the precise amount of time you needed to make the bus on time," he said. "I recommend getting the cinnamon roll for breakfast at school, I hear it's good."

We played deductions for the rest of the bus ride. Sherlock got everything right of course. The best part of the bus ride though, was when the boy I punched yesterday got onto the bus with a purple jaw, a large bruise covering most of it. That gave me a good laugh.

When we got to school we got off the bus and we headed over to the lunchroom. Sherlock headed to the boys bathroom, and I bought a cinnamon roll. It was pretty large, and Sherlock was right, it was fantastic.

As I was heading out of the lunchroom to wait for Sherlock, I was pushed against the wall. It was the boy from yesterday. He pinned me to the wall with one hand, and used the other to play with my hair.

"I asked you nicely to go out with me, so now I'm going to ask you the hard way. Go out with me."

"No!" I refused stubbornly.

He leaned in and I kneed him in the stomach. He doubled over in pain, and I took the opportunity to run from the lunchroom, straight into Sherlock. I stumbled, and Sherlock shot out a hand, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me up so I didn't fall.

"Who?" Sherlock asked simply.

I opened my mouth to answer, but the boy burst into the hallway.

"Ah, Richard Brooks." Sherlock said.

"Let me at her!" Richard growled.

"Not unless you want me to tell the whole school you got beaten up by a girl, twice," Sherlock said.

Richard opened his mouth to argue, but slammed it shut and tossed me a glare before turning on his heel and storming off in the opposite direction.

"What do you mean, 'beat up by a girl?'" I said angrily.

Sherlock shrugged. "Most boys find it embarrassing and it is a suitable blackmailing option. I do not understand why. Girls are just as formidable opponents as boys. It is scientifically proven that girls can get injured easier than boys, but other than that there is really no reason for it to be embarrassing."

"Thanks Sherlock," I said.

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Classes that day were atrocious. All the teachers were determined to get Sherlock to mess up, but no matter how many questions they answered, he got them all right. Language Arts was the only class Sherlock hadn't deduced something about our teacher.

"Deduce her," he said to me when we had sat down at our desks.

I looked her up and down, examining every inch of her starched white blouse and navy blue pencil skirt.

"She wanted to be a Broadway actor, because of her love of singing and acting but a family emergency made her stay close to home; her brother was recently diagnosed with stage one Leukemia a month to a month and a half ago. She's single, just recently broke up with her boyfriend, he was flirting with her best friend. She writes fantasy and mystery novels in her spare time, and is totally obsessed with Harry Potter."

Sherlock nodded approvingly.

Slowly the rest of the class filed into the classroom. All the boys stared at the Language Arts teacher, Miss. Megan Nelson. Let's just say, the 'Miss' didn't go unnoticed. I rolled my eyes. 17 year olds could get so strange.

The lesson went by with much goggling and annoyance practically radiating off of Sherlock and I.

I could already tell this was Sherlock's favorite class. Miss Megan (she told us to call her that) was positively delighted that Sherlock and I were in her class. She proclaimed, "I love it when I get students who are serious about learning!" She was a young, pretty thing. Taffy colored hair cascaded down to her waist, although the shade would differ from day to day; one day it would be Taffy, the next, Blonde, the next, Chocolate Brown. Her age, about 21, suggested that she had taken multiple advanced classes early in her life, allowing her to graduate extremely early.

The most startling part of Miss Megan was her lovely eyes. They glowed with a passion that was surprising to find in a school, and if you looked close enough, they reflected her mood; her eyes changed color depending on if she was happy, sad, or tired.

Sherlock and I left Language Arts class very much pleased with the class, and how Miss Megan had handled the boys fawning over her.

"Are you single?" Tom Dawkins asked, the playboy.

"Nope!" Miss Megan said, popping the 'p.' "I am currently in love with a thing most people call 'food.' We've been together a very long time, and I think we'll be together 'till the end of my days."

Best. Teacher. Ever.