A Case of Identity

Chapter 1: The man with the mop

John was the average 15 year old. Many people, including the inspector of Scotland Yard, told him that he was anything but average, and they were right. His parents had died when he was 13, on a plane that crashed on their way to their 21st wedding anniversary. They had home-schooled him since he could talk, but as soon as they died, he refused to even go to school. But John didn’t stop in education. His parents had lived with him in a huge mansion, which had a library. It was full of all kinds of books. His mother was a scientist and his father was a novelist, so the range of books in the library was huge. With the amount of knowledge he possessed, John could choose any path he wanted, so, he chose to become a detective. It wasn’t the best way to occupy his mind. He could have been an astronomer, or a scientist, but any of these options clashed with his past. So he wasn’t as normal or average as he wanted to be. His way of forgetting the past was not being a part of it. Every day he was changing himself doing what a normal 15 year old would do, starting life again.

John looked down at the ticket he had in his hand. I was a ticket for a football match, which he then handed to the man at the gates. He personally didn’t like football matches, but so did his father. If forcing himself to like football was what he would have to do, then he would do exactly that. He very quickly found his seat, and looked around at all the people cheering and screaming at the few men on the pitch. It was pathetic to him. When it comes to sport, people can be so competitive. He thought to himself. John looked around for something to occupy his mind. He soon found a policeman deep in thought. It was Inspector Abbott, one of the biggest football fans John knew. Suddenly feeling like someone was behind him, he turned round to find his childhood friend, Emily, smiling at him.

When he was little, he would always wander down the street and past his house. One day he found a girl crying by the edge of the curb. He went over to her and sat beside her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, comfortingly.

She sniffed and nodded. “I w-was playing with my ball and that b-boy tripped me up!” the little girl said, pointing at a boy who was laughing with his friends. John clenched his fists and stood up.

“I’ll show him,” He said. He marched over to the boy. “Hey! Why did you trip up that girl?” John shouted, and the boy turned around, surprised that someone was talking to him.

“What’s it to you? You’re just a squirt!” the boy said with a snigger. John clenched his fist tighter.

“Stop bullying people, you fat donut!” he said as he lashed out with his fist. He punched the boy round the face. The boy stumbled back, extremely offended. His friends stepped forward.

“Nobody talks to me like that! Get ‘im boys!” The boys circled John. They all raised their fists in time with each other. Instantly John saw a fist hurling towards him. He didn’t even have time to think before the fist struck his stomach and forced him to crumple to the floor. Within seconds two more fists came out and hit him; one to the cheek, and the other to the arm. The boys stepped back to laugh at him. The little girl ran in front of John.

“Stop it, please! Or I’ll get a policeman!” she said, spreading out her arms to protect John. The boy stuck up his nose.

“Fine, but don’t let me catch you again.” He said as he turned round. He walked off, closely followed by his gang.

As soon as he left, the little girl sat beside John. “Are you ok?” she asked. John sniffed and rubbed his grazed leg.

“Thank you for stopping them,” He said with a weak smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a giggle. She helped John to his feet. “My name’s Emily. What’s yours?” the girl said as she extended her hand.