"Sherlock's looking at you again." Your friend, Elizabeth tells you bitterly while you sit together at lunch with a couple other girls, but they're too immersed in their own conversations to care what you two were saying.
"He is?" You ask her curiously, trying to look around without being too obvious.
"He looks everyday, that weirdo fancies you," she tells you, disgust in her tone.
"He's not weird." You mutter, looking down at your salad.
"Not weird?! Are you kidding me!" She exclaims, this catches the attention of the other girls and they immediately join in, surprisingly knowing what you were talking about.
"Are you talking about Sherlock Holmes?" Anastasia pipes up.
"No, it's-" you start, not wanting to have to hear their theories about the Holmes brothers.
"Yes." Elizabeth confirms, giving you a pointed look.
"I heard he stalks people and that's how he knows all those things." Anastasia whispers to you, the other girls nodding in agreement.
"Where did you hear that from?" You laugh, not believing a word that comes out of their mouths.
"Everyone says it! He knew Mr. Burrs was having an affair with a student! How would someone know that if they weren't stalking them?" Beth speaks out, Anastasia furiously nodding her head.
"They were pretty obvious." You argue.
"He doesn't even have any friends! He's probably still a virgin." Anastasia sneers, making the other girls laugh.
You frown at them, "Anastasia, you're a virgin. Don't act like its some big deal." You retort.
Anastasia only scoffed and turned away to complain to Beth.
"He's probably the one vandalizing the library, he just wants attention." Another girl, Amber says, not giving up on trying to convince you that Sherlock was not to be trusted.
"Why would he vandalize the library and then try to convince all of us it was a secret message? Don't be stupid." You tell her.
"Because he wants everyone to know about his work! He'll be a serial killer, mark my words." She says seriously, turning to Anastasia and Beth.
"This is ridiculous. He isn't some criminal! He solves crimes for god's sakes!" You whisper fervently.
"He creates them, Y/N, it's his way of fun. If I were you, I'd stay away from him." Elizabeth warns before, just like all the others, turning away.
You scoff and roll your eyes, standing with your tray and taking the eating outside option.
Your eyes immediately went to an empty park bench and you quickly sat down at it, your back to the entrance of the school.
You ate in silence, your mind swirling with the accusations against Sherlock.
They had never even spoken to him, how could they make such rash decisions?
But then again, you'd never spoken to him either.
That was until the next lunch.
You walked past your usual table without even thinking about it and went straight outside to the table you had eaten at yesterday, you knew you didn't want to have to put up with the girls again.
You were expecting to eat alone, but while you were grabbing a fry from your plate you felt someone sit down on the other side of the bench, you looked up.
Sherlock.
"Hello?" You asked, a bit confused.
"Hello." He responds, his voice deep and silky smooth like chocolate.
You didn't know what to say next so you just stared at him, his curly black hair was a mess atop his head and his high cheekbones looked even better in the sunlight.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asks, confused himself.
"I like your hair." You answer honestly, your expression breaking into a smile.
"My hair?" He asks, amused.
"It's curly and black and nice." You say dumbly, awkwardly laughing at the end of your sentence.
"Thank you."
There was a silence.
"Do you know about all the people who think you're a psychopath?" You ask, curious about what he would say and also not really caring what he thought of you because he could probably see exactly who you were just by one look.
"Yes." He answers simply.
"Are you a psychopath?" You ask slowly, not knowing if you actually wanted to ask the question.
"No, I'm a sociopath. High functioning." He explains vaguely.
"How do you know all those things?" You ask him.
"What things?" He responds.
"You know what people have done in the last twenty four hours just by looking at their thumb." I explain.
"Deduction."
"Deduction?"
"I can tell a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb. And I can tell that you like me." He points out snugly.
"What?" I ask, a blush rushing to my cheeks.
"Your eyes are dilated." He explains simply, as if it was the most simple thing in the world to figure out.
I squinted, looking at his emerald eyes, which just so happened to be dilated as well.
"So are yours." I retort.
"That would make sense, yes."
"Would it?" I ask.
"Oh, definitely." He smiles, reaching across the table and grabbing a fry, putting it into his mouth and past his smirking lips.
