Carl Powers Case- Teen style!

Sherlock nodded silently, listening to John tell him about his sister. He had just opened his mouth to say something when suddenly the teacher was at their desk, towering over them and demanding that John reveal what he was saying to the entire class.

Sherlock watched as his friend visibly squirmed in his seat, then leaned forward to the teacher.
"Actually Miss, it was my fault," he said. "I was just asking him what I'd missed, because I was late."

John was thankful Sherlock covered up for him. John made sure to catch Sherlock's eye and send him a mental thank you note.
The rest of class was uneventful, as was the day. After school, John and Sherlock met up again. "Hey, Sherlock!" He said, smiling.

((I'm braindead, sorry for the sort of awkward post. I tired... STAAR tests are hard))

"John," Sherlock grinned, pleased to see his friend again after quite a dull day. "What are you doing now? Any plans?"

"Nope, I haven't got any currently! How about you?" Replied John as they walked down the steps from the school.
Though the day had been boring, he knew that as long as Sherlock was with him, the rest of the day wouldn't be.

Sherlock grinned, pleased that he could count on John's company for the remainder of the afternoon, at least until they both had to go back home to their boring family lives.

"I'm investigating the disappearance of a cat," he said with a smile. "Care to help me?"

He wears long sleeves to cover the bruises on his arms, breathes carefully so as not to upset the one on his chest, smiles and can't even be mad or feel sorry for himself. He was late, perhaps he deserved it--and perhaps some day his mother will pay just like Carl Powers will pay. He turns his neat, recopied paper into his maths teacher, smiling sweetly when she sighs at the lack of work.
Today will be a good day. He can feel it.

((All right how are we going to bump Jim into Sherlock?))

(( OK, how about this - Sherlock and John are going to investigate the disappearance of a cat. Perhaps Sherlock finds something he thinks is important to the "case" and wants to take it to the science labs at school to investigate. School is obviously closed but that doesn't stop him and he plans to break in. John is either nervous and doesn't want to go, or he has to be back at home earlier than Sherlock. Either way Sherlock ends up going on his own and bumps into Jim who is also breaking into the chemistry labs to try and find some sort of poison. We can make the rest up as we go along I suppose. Sound ok? ))

((Lovely. <3))

((Oooh! Exciting! Me go when you guys tell me to!))

(( OK, but we're going to go and investigate the disappearance of the cat together first so you need to say that you'll help me, then we'll go off and do some investigating! ))

"Sure! Where is the "scene of the crime"?" John joked. Maybe this would be fun! He liked puzzles and mysteries.

((Eh, short posts strike again. I'm absolutely terrible.))
((They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!))

"Excellent!" Sherlock clapped his hands, pleased that John wanted to help out. "It's a woman on my street," he explained. "Her cat went missing two days ago. Cats go missing all the time I know, but she seems to think there's something unusual about it. The day before its disappearance....there was a strange man seen lurking at the bottom of her garden."

As he spoke they continued walking, Sherlock increasing his pace the more excited he got. "Anyway, I'm heading over there now to see if I can gather any evidence. We'll be like detectives," he grinned.

"Cool! I mean, not for the cat, I suppose, but for us... You know what I mean." Said John as he followed Sherlock to a old house with green shutters, brick walls, and a large garden all around. "Good God, did she check the geraniums for the cat?" Apparently this woman really liked flowers, because every square inch of the yard was covered, save for a narrow sidewalk to the porch.

"Good idea John!" Sherlock exclaimed and bent down into the flowers. He plucked one of them from the ground and stuffed it into his pocket. "The cat's name is Conan...maybe we should try calling for it too..."

Sherlock stood up and approached the wall of the woman's house. He took out his pen knife and scraped off some of the redness off the brick, then he dropped his school bag off his shoulder and with one hand removed his Maths workbook and rubbed the knife over one of the pages. Next he took a scraping of paint off the green door and folded it inside the pages of his Maths book, before returning it to the bag.

"We should look in the neighbour's gardens." Sherlock suggested, standing on tip toe to peer over the fence. "She didn't recognise the man she saw in the garden, but apparently next door have had some relatives over recently from another country."


(( see what I did there...the cat is called Conan...like Conan Doyle!! ))

John was just joking when he said to check the geraniums. He looked around a bit anyway, since Sherlock was, calling softly "Here Kitty, Kitty, Here Conan! Come on boy!"

Sherlock scrambled over the fence and practically fell into next door's garden.

"Come on John!" he shouted for his friend as he got to his feet and brushed himself down. He glanced nervously towards the house. It didn't look like anyone was in at the moment but he couldn't be too sure, and this was technically tresspassing.

Even so, he needed to collect evidence if he was ever to find the cat. He crouched down on the floor and picked up a cigarette end.

"Wait, what- damn." Said John, speaking under his breath. "You might be caught!" He whispered to Sherlock, "Come back!" Jumping over a fence just to retrieve a cigarette end seemed extreme. John watched as Sherlock examined the end "Well what now, you have a piece of evidence, now get back here before someone accuses you of trespassing!".

((Wow... My John is paranoid!))

Sherlock climbed back over the fence and managed to land on his feet this time, brandishing the remainder of the cigarette triumphantly.

"This could be important," he said and pointed to something near the woman's back door. "Look. Tobacco ash. Could be from the same cigarette...I...I wouldn't know for certain though. Do you know any way of telling?"

"Um.... Any particular brands have their signature cigarette, I suppose... You could look for Dna, you know, next time you're at the lab?" Suggested John, looking intently at the end.

"Great idea John!" Sherlock cried, pleased about how his friend was getting involved. He bent down to pick up some of the tobacco ash and put it in his pocket. "I should really get some bags for this type of thing..." he commented to himself.

"Right," he said, standing up excitedly. "I'm gonna head back to school, check some of this stuff out in the lab. You coming?"

John stepped back so Sherlock could climb over the fence again. "Wish I could, but Mum told me to be back early. Harry is ill apparently," John replied. He wished with all his heart he could stay, but now would be a very bad time to upset his mother.

Sherlock frowned a little, upset to be losing John's company. "Hmm. OK then. I suppose you'd better get back. I wouldn't want you to be in trouble. I'll walk with you though."

Together they left the woman's garden, Sherlock still clutching the evidence he had collected, and walked off down the street.

"Thanks" replied John as they walked back the way they had come. The street was lined with relatively uniform houses, all in a row. John looked around as they walked and realized that he really didn't know a lot about London. Before Sherlock brought him here, he didn't know it even existed!

Sherlock and John headed off down the road together and carried on walking until they'd arrived near John's house. Sherlock was intending to carry on back to the school, but John stopped walking and he knew they had to go their separate ways.

He smiled at him a little sadly.
"Well...I guess I'll see you in school tomorrow. Have a good night," he said.

"You too" called John as they walked in different directions, "See you later."

John arrived home a few minutes later. Seeing Harriet sprawled on the couch, moaning her head off, John walked over and immediately recognized the ailment as a hangover. "HEY HARRY! HOW ARE YOU FEELING?!" Yelled John at the top of his lungs, knowing it would annoy her.
"Ffffffuuuuuu- God! Go away, John!" Harry muttered, catching herself cussing.