Define Nerd

Sherlocked

(This chapter is dedicated to GerneralTwixxx thanks so much for your comments! You inspired me to keep writing when id planned to leave this story behind. Thank you! )

I wake up in the morning and stretch. Disappointment makes my heart stop. I want to cry. I'd had the best dream, but now I had to be conscious and go to
school.

Wait
It wasn't a dream!

Memories flood my mind, bleak at first due to my sleep bogged brain. I vaguely remember something important is today...

Testing! Sherlock testing! It's the perfect opportunity to dawn my cosplay scarf and coat.

Ten minutes later I'm ready, having gone all out with the inner fan. It's a crisp day, clear skies and nippy weather. I smile, excited and nervous to start my testing.

In the car, Henry hums a cute little tune. I think it's that excerpt from My Heart Will Go On he wants to perform. He played it for hours last night.

Mind you, he's only just got the instrument. everything he knows, he found online over this summer.

I smile at him. He's the most dedicated dork, his passion for any kind of music is my favorite. It's quite inspiring.

I wave goodbye, stepping out of the car. We've reached my school. My mom smiles and gives a wink. Henry presses his face to the glass, his curly copper top cushioning his forehead. I giggle and shake my head. What would I do without them?

My mom presses the gas and they're gone. Nobody is on the front lawn today; that's only for first days.

I suppose the reason could be that our school is so large that there is worry newbies could get lost.

A justified thought, seeing as I take 20 minutes to find the auditorium.

It's huge. Grand walls stretch for what feels like miles above my head, coated in epic murals depicting scenes from the groups of fandoms. Beneath each specific mural sits the associated group.

I find a woeful scene, grey and blue, with a shadowed figure seemingly falling into time itself. Underneath, in beautiful velvet chairs, sits what can only be the Sherlockians.

Deep breaths, Aura. Don't make a fool.

As I approach I can distinctly hear the exciting tone of debate.
"Formaldehyde makes up 5 to 29 percent of embalming liquid." A plain statement.
" yes, but-"

I never hear the rest of the argument. The entirety of the group has hushed and started staring.
I smile and nod, sweat forming on my palms.

I can practically feel the scrutiny of which they peer at me. I ball my fists, bravely swallowing and sitting.

I sit myself next to the nearest person, a girl with lengthy blonde hair and hazelnut brown eyes. Her skin is tan, perfectly contrasted to mine.

She grins and doesn't say a word. Everyone seems to be waiting for something.

"Omnis Salve." I practically whisper. I hope my ability to speak multiple languages impresses. Sherlockians are smart right? Right. Duh.

"Willkommon mein freund." A boy in a smart suit responds, his head at a curious angle. German, I'm impressed.
"Im the head boy of this fandom." He greets, coming to sit between the blonde and I.

She rolls her eyes behind his back and leaves to join her friends.

"You're Aura, yes?" He claims, not quite questioning. I think he's looking for affirmation. I simply nod, hoping I don't appear too confused. Sherlockians are also quite intimidating.