Elementary, John

Chapter 1: First Day

The sandy-haired 5 year old glanced around the classroom. He was excited for his first day at school! His older sister, Harry, wouldn't be in his class (sadly), but he was eager to make new friends. There were several tables with 4 chairs at each, only one seat filled, and a young woman with a soft face sitting behind her desk. He had arrived there early because of Harry's drama club, so he wasn't surprised to see so few people in the room yet.

John's mother walked up behind him. "Johnny, you nearly forgot your lunch," she said, pressing the bag decorated in pictures of cars into his hand. He shifted his book bag uncomfortably on his shoulders as she planted a big kiss on his cheek.

"Remember, don't call me Johnny," John said embarrassedly. His mother ignored him and placed a hand on his shoulder, leading him to the teacher.

"Hello Mrs. Kendall. I'm Katy Watson, John's mom," she introduced. There was a snort somewhere behind them, and John honed in on its source while the grown ups consulted each other with QnA.

The lone boy sitting at the table was the only suspect of the snort. He had messy black hair that framed a squarish face, and his blue eyes were fixed on the book in front of him. John walked over to his first potential friend.

"Hi, I'm John. It's nice to meet you!" he said, holding out his hand. The other boy glanced up and snorted again. "What's so funny?"

The boy with black hair rolled his eyes and closed his book. "Obviously your name is John. I'm not deaf, I heard you come in."

John pondered this for a moment, then, choosing to ignore the potential rudeness, snorted as well. "Yeah, sorry. But I didn't see you come in. What's your name?"

The boy in front of him stared for a moment, then finally relented. Shaking John's hand, he answered, "I'm Sherlock Holmes."

John giggled. "That's a funny name," he said, not meaning any harm by it. Too late. Sherlock quickly retracted his hand, opened his book, and scowled at the page. "No, I mean— I like it, it's cool."

The blue eyes slowly looked back up at John, squinted, contemplated. It seemed to take forever for the boy to respond. Finally, he set the book down again and raised his eyebrows slightly.

"You like my name, you should hear my brother's," he said simply, "Mycroft."

John lit up at the response, then had a revelation. "Wait, Mycroft Holmes?"

"That's the one," Sherlock mumbled.

"I've heard of him!"

There was a visible shudder through Sherlock. "Here we go again..."

"Harry told me about him. Said he was like a king or something."

"Yes, well, enough about my brother. Tell me about yours. No wait, I've got it. Harry is in the third, fourth, no- fifth grade, in the drama club, and has a large group of friends. He- no, Harry is a girl. Only a girl would have a sleepover with a large group of friends, which is what kept you up last night and also accounts for the donut you had for breakfast, which you don't normally have. Why? Because your lunchbox, it's been used for a few years, so money must be tight. That's not even considering your father—" Sherlock was saying this all in a bored tone, but he cut off when he glanced at John's expression, now lined with confusion. "Well, I'll stop there. Anything I missed?"

John gaped at the kid sitting in front of him. For once in his short life, words failed him.

Sherlock smirked. "John, you might want to sit down now."

John complied, pulling out the chair next to him and plopping down. His book bag slid off his shoulders, and once it hit the floor, cognition returned to his brain, and the questions started flowing.