Carl Powers Case- Teen style!

Sherlock could feel John was hot on his heels and clearly able to keep up so he didn't hold back the pace.

"This way." he said, as he began to climb up over a bin to scale a wall. He turned back and offered an outstretched arm. "Here, take my hand."

They jumped over the other side of the wall and continued running, eventually emerging out of another alley way and onto a main road, where they collided head on with the purse thief.

Even though John knew it looked weird, John took Sherlock's hand and suddenly they were running straight into the thief. The purse fell to the ground, and John picked it up so the boy wouldn't try to take off again.

((What happens now??))

((You don't need me just now, but I'll be popping in with random bits that try to make you feel sorry for my favorite violent psycho, because I'm a bitch like that! <3))

"Nice one John." said Sherlock and took the purse. The boy they'd been chasing got to his feet and quickly ran away but Sherlock didn't bother chasing after him. Instead he leant back on a wall, panting and out of breath, then indicated the purse.

"We should return this. You did well there....your leg seems to have got better." he grinned.

John laughed, "Yeah, otherwise all this running was for nothing." He replied. Then he realized: Sherlock was right! He wasn't limping anymore! "Wow... It feels nice not. To limp" said John, walking around a bit.

They took the purse back to the woman, and John 'accidentally on purpose' put some money on her table for her.

((Sorry for all these late posts! I'm kinda busy! I'll get better, I just have not had access to the Internet in a while... grounded.......* sigh*))

As they walked back down Baker Street away from the cafe, they reflected on their shared experience.

"That was fun right?" Sherlock grinned. He wished exciting things like that could happen more often, and it had certainly been an interesting afternoon hanging out with John. He hoped John felt the same. Maybe they could hang out again.

"You're a pretty fast runner," he complimented, genuinely impressed. "Not many people could keep up with me like that. You ever thought about being an athelete when you grow up? Or maybe join the Army? Or the police? What do you wanna be anyway?"

"Well," said John, not really sure what he was going to do after he graduated, "I guess I'd like to be atheletic my whole life, but I sort of want to go into the military, like my grandpa..."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Really?" he asked. "I think you'd make a bloody good soldier actually." He shrugged. "I don't know what I want to be...something to do with chemistry probably...but something exciting, not just...sat in a lab all day, something that involves...action. I dunno."

"You could work for the government....... You know, Forensics..." replied John, smiling at the fact that Sherlock thought he would be good. "You know, you're in the lab so much, I bet everyone would want you on forensics!"

((I looked up what exactly Abby on NCIS does just for you. It didn't take long. The word was on the tip of my tongue.....))

Sherlock shrugged. "I guess so. That might be quite fun I suppose. Hey, and you'd get to go on crime scenes and stuff..." he was suddenly quite excited by the idea. "Yeah...and you'd get to look at dead bodies...murder victims...John, wouldn't it be fantastic? I love murders! I mean..."

Sherlock paused, realising that might sound a bit bad. "No, I didn't mean that I liked them just that...I liked them...I dunno..." He stopped talking, worried that John would think he was really weird now.

John cocked his head,
Its kind of funny when he gets all embarrassed! John thought.
"No, its not weird, I know exactly what you mean, even if I don't feel the same way." Said John, hoping Sherlock wouldn't clam up so they could keep talking.

Sherlock was relieved. Normally the other kids would just say he was a psycho and run off, or not want to talk to him again. John must be different, he reflected. Maybe they could really be friends after all. He smiled at the other boy.

"Thanks," he said. "Hey listen, I've enjoyed hanging out today. D'you think...d'you think you might like to do it more often?"

"Yeah, sure!" Replied John with a smile.

"Right. Good," Sherlock tried to appear casual but inside he was pretty excited and pleased that John wanted to hang out again. He looked at his watch with a sigh. "I'd better go or my brother'll get me into trouble for staying out too late. I guess I'll see you tomorrow in school?"

"Yeah! Sure, see you at school." replied John, walking off with a foolish smile on his face. He had never been so happy to have a friend.

When he got to his house, he just stood outside... Thinking.
Man, I hope to God Harry is sober, otherwise we have an argument on our hands... His fears were confirmed when he heard Harry yelling and his mother yelling back... He sighed, and entered the household with a stern look on his face.
"Harry......"

Sherlock arrived back home and let himself in. He was supposed to have been back half an hour ago, so he quietly closed the door and tiptoed upstairs. He paused on the landing, sense alert. He strained his ears and could hear the soft sound of pages turning, and he knew then that his older brother Mycroft was in his bedroom reading. Very slowly and carefully, Sherlock creeped past Mycroft's room and into his own, gently closing his bedroom door behind him and locking it. Leaning against the locked door he breathed a sigh of relief, then he raced over to his desk and continued with the experiment he'd been doing the night before.

Sherlock worked late into the night, not getting to sleep till about 2am. He knew it meant he'd be tired for school but he didn't care. He could always have a few cans of coke and get some energy from the caffeine. Sleeping was boring. Even when he did finally get into bed, he had a hard time trying to get to sleep as his mind ran over the events of the day. He couldn't wait to get into school and see his new friend John again.

The instant he walks in the door he knows he's taken too long to walk home, knows he should have started the instant he received the text. As though summoned by the click of the door, his mother appears in front of him, and she's not in a good mood. "You're late." She says simply. She's holding a spatula, which, from experience, probably does not bode well for him wearing short sleeves to school tomorrow.
"Sorry." He replies, bracing himself for a blow.
She doesn't disappoint him.

((Ta, don't mind me! Just going to do another 'going home' bit and complete the chain of them. xD))

(( awww, poor Jim....that's why he's such a psychopath ))

((And let's not forget the inherent bit. I'm going to put something in the general discussion section that I posted on tumblr and you all might enjoy. xD))

Sherlock was late. After staying up till the early hours he had slept in, and was only awoken by the persistant banging on his bedroom door. It was intensely annoying.

"All right, all right," he cried, finally getting up and going to unlock it. It was Mycroft.
"You're late," he said, looking at his watch. "23 minutes."
"Well then you're late too," Sherlock replied. "Why are you still here?"
"I'm not going in today."
"Why not?"
"None of your business."
Sherlock shoved past his brother and into the bathroom.

Half an hour later and he was arriving at his English class, looking rather sheepish. The teacher told him off for being late and asked him what the reason was.

"I overslept," was his only excuse, and he was forced to apologise, something he hated doing. And given detention. Again. His rolled his eyes and scanned through the classroom until he spotted John sat near the back. With a smile he noticed his new friend had saved a place for him. He headed over there and sat down.

"Hey," he whispered, as the teacher began the class again.

"Hey." Replied John, trying to cover up his tiredness. Harry had been very drunk when he had gotten home yesterday. He had worn himself to threads trying to get her to calm down. God, could Harriet be difficult when she was drunk...
"Did you really oversleep?" He asked curiously.

Sherlock nodded. "I was up late doing some experiments," he said with a smile. "Great fun. What did you do last night? You didn't get much sleep yourself."

He waited expectantly, hoping his deduction about John's lack of sleep had been correct.

"Oh... Well, yeah... I didn't get much sleep I suppose" answered John, trying to skirt around the subject, but too tired to think up any excuses. "So what experiments are you working on?" John hoped he would just go with what he had said, but he knew that it was a fat chance Sherlock would let it go.

Sherlock stared at John again, analysing him.

"Less than 4 judging by the bags under your eyes," he commented. "What were you up to that kept you up so late?"

John sighed. He knew that he was going to ask. Well, the truth is better thatn bad lies.
"Well..... Um.... When I got home yesterday, I heard yelling from the house, and, er, it just happened to be my sister who gets........ drunk." John replied, mumbling the last word, hoping so badly Sherlock wouldn't stop being his friend because of Harry. Suddenly the teacher was next to his desk, leaning down and whispering conspiratorially with them.
"Do you wish to say something to the entire class? Mr. Watson?" She said