My Class Is Weird (Sherlock, DW, Merlin and lots of other things: fanfic)

Meet the form

Because I’m nice I’ve decided to update early . . . that was a lie, I’ve updated because I really wanted to write more and because, well, I’m nice haha XD Anyway, because there are so many crossovers in this story, I’ve had to twist certain characters to make them fit the whole idea and plot so, you know, don’t question what you read and I hope you still enjoy it haha

Peace out . . .

(I totally just signed off like @spannah does – Go check out her story, Ugly Duckling, now! It’s amazing, especially if you’re into chicklits :D She's also like my bezzie mate ;)

(Wow that was a long A/N haha . . .votes and comments guys are much appreciated ;) ~X~ )

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John whipped the coat from over our heads when we entered a block of classrooms. The corridor was cool and the vinyl grey flooring has a sheen that reflected the din lights from the lighting above. It was a pretty normal school building, and I’d been to plenty of schools where the corridors might as well have been gold plated.

Sherlock tussled some stray water droplets from his curly hair and pushed up his shirt sleeve, sneering at it as he did as if it was its fault for falling down his arm.

John tucked his coat under his arm and gestured to the corridor, “This is English block, if you wanted to know for future reference.”

I nodded then turned to Sherlock when he scoffed, “Yes John, she can tell due to the amount of display boards dedicated to Shakespeare.”

I actually hadn’t noticed any of the displays, and when John just rolled his eyes, I shrugged and we walked to catch up with Sherlock who was already heading towards some double doors towards the far end of the corridor.

Classrooms lined either side and when I peered through the doors as we passed I saw students sat at desks, staring at the teachers stood at the front of the room.

Sherlock and John stopped outside a grey classroom door with E5 painted above it in bold.

“This is out form room,” John said with a smile. I nodded, feeling nervous all over again.

“Don’t worry,” Sherlock said blankly, noticing my panic, “They don’t bite.”

He pushed the door open and I heard the classroom go silent. I followed him in, John walking soundlessly behind me.

I was fully prepared for a bombardment of questions and shrieking and as I stood like a lemon, John beside me, almost twenty pairs of eyes stared at me.

I swallowed.

“Is that the new girl?” Someone shouted.

Sherlock made a tutting noise, rolled his eyes and said, “Obviously,” before walking over to what must have been his desk and sat down heavily, tucking his long legs underneath him on his chair.

John, thankfully, stayed by my side.

Suddenly the teacher clapped her hands and smiled. It was the kind of smile you expected from a supermodel, all sparkly teeth and really wide but that didn’t make any of her features stretch or crease.

“Hello!” She chirped, walking over in small black high heels, “You must be Rosie Walker, I’m Miss Faye your form tutor.” She put her hand on my shoulder so that she was now addressing the whole class. I wanted to die of embarrassment, I hated it when new teachers acted all nice nice, as if you were suddenly the only child of importance in the room. No, I didn’t want any more attention drawing to me, thank you very much.