The Crack in the Lens

Friend?

*AUTHOR'S NOTE*
*THE CHARACTERS DO NOT BELONG TO ME, THEY BELONG TO SHERLOCK AND SIR ARTHUR CONAN-DOYLE.*
*THIS IS JUST A FANFICTION*

(John's P.O.V.)

It was a new school. A new, large, terrifying school. Why did we have to move towns? Especially since I am 16, and nearing GCSE's. Nobody will like me; I will have no friends; and I will be far behind everyone else in my year group. Yay(!) From the pictures online the school looked humongous and modern, which means it might be more modern and clean than my previous school, but also more difficult to navigate. Hopefully, someone will take pity on me- the new kid -and not just leave me isolated and floundering. What's the time?
11:47pm
I should probably go to sleep now to be ready for tomorrow.

*******

8:13am next morning
Shit! Shit, shit, shit!! I am going to be late for school and miss my bus. And on the first day! Throwing on my irritable uniform, I ran all the way to the bus stop, and into...

(Sherlock's P.O.V)

All of a sudden, a boy my around my age rushes into the side of me; however he is much shorter, tired, and has sandy blonde hair. He is sixteen, has recently moved school due to his parents' divorce, is interested in medicine, and has a rocky relationship with his brother. His name is John Watson, as it says on his bag- J. Watson. And, is in around a third of my classes (and my form as well) judging by the timetable bulging out of his left pocket. His phone was given to him by his brother, who has alcohol issues, and is quite a new model with several scratches. Probably made when his drunk sibling had dropped it plugging it in to charge.

"Terribly sorry! It's just I thought I was going to miss the bus!" he explained, looking flustered and a bit embarrassed. He was rolling his ankle back and forth, and had clearly sprained it.

"No matter, how is your ankle John Watson?" I replied. The expression on his face changed from one of pain and embarrassment to one of confusion and astonishment.

"How- How did you? My name, how do you know it?" he looked at me, genuinely bewildered," and in response to your question, I believe my ankle is sprained."

"I observe what other people miss." I went on to help him understand," Now let me help you onto the bus."

I offered him my arm, which he leaned on like a child would to its parent. Every step, he winced very quietly; at a volume that was just above a whisper. Eventually, I got him comfortable in the only free seats at the back half of the bus.

(John's P.O.V)

"Thank you so much", I said to the kind stranger next to me," you seem to know all sorts about me, what about you?"

In response, he glared at me blankly, as if I had committed some great crime. The stranger must have seen the hurt in my eyes, as he quickly tried to correct his rude behaviour.

"I apologise. It is just that I am not used to friends or conversation in general." he mumbled.

"How anyone would not talk to someone as attractive as you is beyond me!" I made a joke, instantly regretting my decision.