Work Text:
*RIIIIIIIIIIIIING!*
"Why do they even have that blasted thing?!? What’s the use of the clocks in the rooms if we’re not going to use them anyway?" Sherlock hissed, carrying his schoolbooks toward his locker.
He ran his hands over his hair, shaking off his brown curls. High school can be quite frustrating. He leaned back over his locker and studied the people at the halls. He scoffed. They were all so mundane, so shallow.
A group of boys walked pass Sherlock, silly grins plastered on their faces. They looked at him like he was insane… A freak. A girl, with red hair and brown eyes, stopped across him, her face breaking into a shy smile. Sherlock raised his eyebrows in confusion. Was there anything funny?
Another girl came, snatching the redhead by the arm. “Honestly, he’s a freak. Don’t go liking boys like that.” He heard her say.
He shrugged. He was fed up with all of them. Looking at his watch, he headed to his Chemistry class.
He sat at the very back, the only one in class without a lab partner. At the beginning of the school year, he made it clear with his teacher that he wouldn’t need one, as if anyone would want to.
"Is this seat taken?" He heard someone say. He looked up and saw a new student, gray eyes staring at him knowingly, black hair framing her beautiful face, a smirk playing on her rosy lips.
"I would rather you sit somewhere else." He muttered, ignoring the lump forming in his throat.
The girl moved the chair beside him, moving gracefully, her hands folding over her chest. “I’d rather stay here…” her eyes glanced over his textbook “…Sherlock Holmes.”
He followed her eyes and saw where she got his name. He grunted, looking away from her.
"Why’d you have to ask if you’re gonna do it anyway?" Sherlock muttered. He heard the girl laugh.
"Because I do what I like, Sher-lock."
He looked back at her, drinking her in. Odd. The only thing he can deduce about her was that she was adopted, brought up by a fine family and yet she was not snooty. Intelligent, in fact, but quite a rebel. The more he studied her, the more he remembered. She was the transfer student everyone was talking about. Every boy fancied her, every girl envied her… But she didn’t seem to care.
"Irene Adler."
She smirked. “So you’ve heard about me?”
"Heard about your reputation." he said, looking her straight in the eye.
She raised her eyebrows at him, leaning towards him. “And what is that?”
He jerked his head to the side. “You know all about it. I don’t have to explain.”
"Clever." She mouthed.
They studied each other for a moment, Sherlock wondering what goes on in that head of hers.
"You also have a reputation, you know." Irene said.
"I don’t care." He replied simply. There was something about her, not as mundane as every shallow girl in the school, and as soon as he thought about it, he felt a pang in his chest. He wanted to know what’s her opinion of him.
She leaned in closer, thinning the distance between them. “You know… This place is too much for us. Or… Too less if I were to put it. Wanna go somewhere else?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “You’re insane.”
She rolled her eyes. “And I thought you were different.”
***
The class started and for the first time, Sherlock found himself distracted. He was hardly paying attention to the lecture, not that he would miss much. Irene Adler was just so mysterious to him, the way she points her eyes at something not give anything away makes him curious.
When the class ended, she winked at him before leaving. Sherlock felt confused.
That night, he found himself thinking about Irene Adler.
***
Every Chemistry class, he finds himself somehow interested in what she has to say. She always had clever deductions about everyone that Sherlock secretly found himself in awe.
He found himself disappointed when one day, she stopped coming to class.
***
One night, he heard tapping on his window. He looked up and saw her by the fire escape. She looked divine, her hair loose on her shoulders, a black dress complimenting her small frame. He opened the window and she helped herself into his room.
"Irene." He said, voice barely a whisper.
She laughed softly, sitting on Sherlock’s bed. “Sherlock…surprised?”
"What are you doing here? Why’d you leave school?" He said, biting his tongue as he did. He didn’t want to give her any ideas.
She stood up, caressing her dress. “It’s prom night. Care for a dance?”
Sherlock stared at her and scoffed. “What are you on about?”
"I’m leaving town tonight. Never to come back, I hope. I’d like my prom first before I leave." She said simply, as if it was the most normal thing any girl would say. But then, she wasn’t like other girls.
"I don’t dance." Sherlock muttered and Irene laughed.
"Sure, you do. You secretly love it. Looking at the condition of your shoes made me figure as much." Irene announced as-a-matter-of-factly.
She drew closer, putting her hands on his nape. Sherlock felt his breathing hitch.
He held her gently, swaying despite the lack of music. She leaned her head against his chest, humming. At that moment, Sherlock felt Irene Adler’s burden. She was too good for this world, too extraordinary to be stuck in high school among other mundane teenagers. He didn’t ask her where she planned to go, nor if she was sure of what’s she was doing. People may think that this may seem normal… Two teenagers dancing without music, looking hopelessly in love and yet, both Sherlock and Irene knew this was not the case. They weren’t a case of puppy love, nor any kind of romance for that matter. They were so much more… Greater than what a teenager could imagine at the age of 16.
They danced until their feet hurt, saying nothing and yet absolutely understanding everything. As he helped her out of his window and into the fire escape, Sherlock felt Irene’s lips touch his own.
"Thanks for prom. Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes."
She may have disappeared that night, but Sherlock knew that somewhere, a part of him was away in an adventure with her, away from the noisy and chaotic halls of this ordinary teenage world.