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

Hiya guys, I’m at it again. So I was eating like this massive chocolate pudding and I thought: what would it have been like to go to school with Sherlock? Which then kind of escalated into: What would it have been like to be in a class with Sherlock, John and the Doctor. So then this idea kind of spiralled out of control and I ended up writing this :)

So I hope you enjoy this little snippet of randomness . . .

(Comments, votes and stuff all welcome as always :) I love chatting to all of you :) ) ~X~

 

  I stared out of the window as the rain battered against it. Through the distorted blur of water washing down the glass I could see other cars swishing past spraying water from their back tires on the busy road. Despite everyone overtaking us my mum insisted to continue at her slow speed.

I pulled absentmindedly at my blazer again and ran my finger around the collar at my neck. I couldn’t help but notice that the red of the school tie looked stark against the bleach white shirt and black blazer; but I had to admit it wasn’t the worst uniform I’d ever worn.

The problem was that it was so crisp and fresh; straight out of the shop. It felt like wearing a cardboard box: stiff and out of place. It felt almost alien – I was so used to wearing my old school uniform. Then again before that I had been used to wearing the uniform for the school pervious to that one . . . and the school before that one too. In fact, thinking about it, I probably had enough old uniforms in all varieties and colours that I could open up my own shop!

“Stop fiddling, you look fine,” Mum suddenly said sternly but reassuringly, causing me to stop twisting my tie around my hand like a bandage. Where it had been wrapped my knuckles had turned white and pink. I flexed my hand to get a bit of feeling back.

“I’m just scared.” I said again, reaching up and checking my hair in the mirror for the fifth time that morning. I’d decided to clip it back but wasn’t convinced it was neat enough. I knew though if I took it down it would be frizzy and curly at the ends. I’d even made an effort with a bit of makeup but even that was slowly disappearing from my face the more I stressed.

I really hated starting at a new school, especially halfway through a term when everyone already had friends and groups. I’d just be an outcast again: the one who didn’t really fit in anywhere because no one wanted me. I’d probably be assigned a guide who would abandon me by the end of my first week – leaving me to fend for myself. I wasn’t sure what I was more scared of: people or being alone.

I must have sniffed or done something to show my true feelings because mum began speaking again in a more timid and warming voice.

“Don’t worry sweetie,” She said patting my hand lightly, although she kept her gaze focused ahead of her, on the road. “It will be fine.”

It was okay for her, she wasn’t the one starting a new school, I thought bitterly as I went back to fiddling with my uniform.

Mum pulled up outside the school gates, kissed me then drove off.

That was it.

It all happened so fast.

I was just stood suddenly exposed in front of some posh private grammar school. I’d not really looked at the school before but now, gazing up at the tall building and intimidating looking gates, all I wanted in the world was for mum to come back and rescue me.

I swallowed hard, accepting the reality of the matter; then shakily walked towards where Mum had pointed out the main reception.

I tugged down my skirt, pushed up my bag strap, smoothed down my blazer just to feel less awkward. My stomach had turned to mush by the time I opened the door. I swore that every receptionist and member of staff in the room looked up and just stared at me with round, judging eyes.