Hooked (teenlock)

Chapter Four

"It's Greg," he muttered.

Sally Donovan, a girl who was going through a rather impressive scene phase, called from the front of the room. "Hey, freak! You seem to like showing off enough every other second of the day, why don't you do it now? Maybe you could finally be of some use!"

The class laughed. Greg, still turned around in his chair, sneered at me. "What? Are you scared that you can't live up to your own reputation as the freakiest genius in all of London?"

"I think you would find it beneficial if you shut up now," I said quietly.

He leaned in. "What are you gonna do? Beat me in chess?"

Luckily, the teacher had finally moved to the front of the room, and the class had more or less turned its attention to her. "Alright, kids, the buses are here, if you could all neatly file out the door..."

I lingered near my seat as my peers shoved out of the room. If I waited long enough... Yes, the corridors were beginning to clear out now. Students seemed to be in an even greater hurry than usual to escape from the place.

John gave me a small, nervous wave upon seeing me from his post outside of the science classroom. He was twitching about even more than usual.

As soon as I was standing by the door with him, I gave a quick nod. "Are you ready?"

He shrugged and took a fast, heavy breath. Was this really taking such a toll on him? "Yeah, I guess."

"Shoulders back, eyes forward, head up." As I named the motions, I performed them. "They'll respect you more. Do this, and you can never fail, John Watson."

I felt John change his posture next to me before pulling the door open. With the squeal of hinges in great need of oiling, we were in. There were a few police officers lingering around the outer edges of the room. One was an alcoholic; the other was having an affair with a waitress. The station obviously hadn't bothered to send their best men. The headmaster watched from afar, obviously disturbed, as what appeared to be two detectives took a look at the corpse.

The body was definitely what interested me the most. It was sat at the teacher's desk, facing the rows of empty lab tables. However, instead of being slumped over, as it naturally would be, the corpse was somehow sitting up with perfect posture- shoulders back, eyes forward, head up. From my position at the doorway, I couldn't see how this was possible. I heard a quiet dripping, and realized that blood from an open stomach wound in the victim was still trickling onto the linoleum.

"Molly Hooper," John mumbled softly, voice cracking.

It took me a moment to realize exactly what he meant by this. The one thing I hadn't noticed (mainly because it was simply a fact that didn't have much significance for the moment) was the identity of the victim. The girl looked almost the same as the first day I'd met her- still dressing to make a good impression, probably trying to become popular. Surely, though, if any event was to encourage attention, it would be one such as this.

"Good riddance," I laughed quietly.

John gave no immediate response, and when I looked down at him again, his face was red with anger, eyes wet with tears. Still, he spoke calmly. "This is not something to joke about. Someone is dead, Sherlock! Dead!"

I'd hit a nerve. Clearing my throat and lifting my head, I apologized.

It was at that moment that the headmaster finally detected us and swiftly sauntered over to us, glaring at me. "This is a restricted area," he said through gritted teeth.

I shrugged. "I believe you need some help around here."

"We have all the help we need, Mr. Holmes, and unless you'd like to face expulsion, I suggest you leave."