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A Study in Biology Chapter 2Chapter 2
Sherlock set in his chair and opened his violin case, removing the elegant instrument and the matching bow. A fellow band friend, a flutist, named Molly Hooper watched him with fascination. She had the biggest crush on him. She took every word he said to heart. She saw him and purposely walked into his chair, dropping her music all over the floor. Sherlock looked up at her.
“Molly.” He said. Molly looked down at him and smiled.
“Oh, hi Sherlock! Sorry if I hit you. I haven’t been paying attention.” She quickly scooped up her music. Sherlock paid her no mind. That’s when he saw the new kid, John, walk into the room. Sherlock was puzzled slightly, which was saying something for him. He was the type of person no one wanted to play Clue with. Molly watched as Sherlock got up and walked to the new kid.
“Are you following me now?” Sherlock asked, staring at John. John shifted nervously under his stare.
“N-no. I have this class n
A Study in Biology Chapter 1A Study in Biology
Summary: John Watson is the new kid at school. Sherlock Holmes is a loner band geek with an overactive imagination. Mycroft Holmes is Sherlock’s older brother, but just as strange. Lestrade is the hall monitor who is a colleague with Sherlock. Moriarty is the big time football star and Sherlock’s rival. Together, they must suffer the fates of high school.
AN: Set in America, since I’m really bad at writing with British dialect.
“John Watson.” Elizabeth Rachel, the school guidance counselor, said as she read through the file on her desk. “Son of an ex-Army doctor, so you moved around a lot, isn’t that correct?”
“Your father was stationed in Iraq and Afghanistan for a while, correct?” She asked. John nodded.
“Yes ma’am.” Elizabeth remained silent as she read through the rest of John’s file. He was a fine student with medical training due to
Abandoned ChapelThe parish waits now,
the loneliness of corners
crawling outward on walls--
chipped away by the wind,
and held together
by silk spindles;
cobwebs align them like the membranes of memories,
the cut of a jewel in an broken window
against the sun
where beads of rain
gather in a mesh of strands
a new Mosaic
against the backdrop of a cemetery;
My eyes seek out the sermon
in close proximity,
paint no distance
between headstone and cloud;
elegies topple each other
in their climb to heaven
as light trickles
over the shade,
breathes a new glow over snuffed candles.
I feel the weight in these empty rows,
how a breath couldn't cease to be breath
in the midst of prayer.
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