You were the daughter of the infamous Sherlock Holmes.
You were currently in your first period History class, waiting for it to be over.
You hated high school.
The building itself was fine.
It was the people inside you hated.
Everyone bullied you because of your father.
You were constantly in trouble because you would get into fights to defend him.
Your father knew of your conflicts, but refused to get involved.
He always said, “You have to learn on your own, Y/N.”
You hated to hear it when he said that.
But you knew he was right.
You heard the bell rang, signaling the end of class, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You slipped your bag onto your shoulder and walked into the hallway, ignoring the shoves you received.
One boy caught your eye. The Quarterback.
He stepped in front of your path.
You sighed and looked at him.
He punched you.
“Your dad’s a freak!” he shouted.
A teacher came over and pulled the boy away from you, but you got to your feet and tackled the football player, pinning him with your knees and punching him repeatedly.
The teacher yanked you off and dragged you to the principal’s office.
You were plopped into a seat, next to a boy. You wiped the blood off your lip, where you had been hit.
The boy next to you looked over at you.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Just got into a fight with the Quarterback,” you answered.
You both watched as the football player was brought into the office.
He was bleeding in several areas on his face.
His eyes widened at the sight of you.
You winked at him.
“Wow, you’re amazing, Y/N,” the boy next to you laughed.
You raised an eyebrow at him.
“You know my name?” you asked.
“Yeah. I’ve had my eye on you for a while,” he admitted.
“And what’s your name?” you questioned.
“Kevin,” he smiled and held out his hand.
You shook it.
“Give me your number and address,” he requested.
He handed you a sheet of paper and your wrote it down.
“Why am I doing this?” you asked.
“So I can pick you up for our date later,” he winked.
You blushed as your dad entered the office.
The principal briefed him on what happened and you had to be sent home for the day. However, you couldn’t be penalized due to the fact that it was self defense.
Your dad was silent in the taxi home.
You entered the flat of 221B and sat on the couch.
“Why are you happy?” he asked.
“A boy asked me out on a date,” you blurted out.
“When?” Sherlock huffed.
“Later,” you answered.
“Change of plans,” he said.
“What?” you gasped.
“I’m meeting him first.”