Dear Nincompoop: The Journal Of Sherlock.

[bubiza]

Dear Nincompoop,
After school today, which was boring as usual, I decided to go and see Dylan again. Watson was going to see Melanie, so I just made the excuse that I wasn't going to be home alone with Mum. Dylan was in his school uniform when I got there: a tweed jacket, with trousers and a shirt.
"What do you want?" he snapped when he saw me.
"I have to be round because of my brother." I replied. I'd actually wanted to come, but decided to leave that bit out.
"Stop staring."
"I'm not..."
"Excuse me, but your eyes are practically on stalks." he muttered, then went upstairs to his room. I followed, and...
It was an absolute mess. There were medical books and science books and DNA models and brain models and paper and clothes and posters of the elements and books and CDs and food wrappers everywhere. But it was so amazing at the same time.
"Wow." I whispered.
"Go away. I need to do my homework." he hissed, throwing books and worksheets onto his bed. I picked one up and read it. It was full of complicated Maths equations, nothing like the stuff we get, about all the stupid apples and holes.
I have decided, Nincompoop, that I want to go to Dylan's school. No more Mr. Smith. No more Dumbledore. No more Roxie. Although, it would mean that I wouldn't see Diesel or Angie as much. But Diesel's parents are really rich, and Angie could get a sports scholarship.
Perfect.
I grabbed a book from Dylan's shelf, and began to read it as he did his homework. It was a hospital horror story thing. In fact, most of his fiction books were either set in hospitals, or some gruesome horror stories.
After he finished, he turned to me.
"What are you doing here?"
"Just... hanging around." We made some small talk for a bit, and then we got interrupted by the sound of shouting downstairs. Watson and Melanie were having some massive argument over something or other. Then Melanie slammed the door and Watson came and dragged me out of the house.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Our relationship is over." he replied. "I don't want to talk about it."
WHAT? THAT MEANS I CAN'T GO AND SEE DYLAN UNLESS I MAKE SMALL TALK TO WATSON'S EX!
And she's always given me the evil eyes. This is not good. I need to go to posh school. And fast.

At dinner I mentioned about it. Everybody went silent.
"What's wrong with your school?" Mum said.
"The lessons are too easy, nobody listens, and you don't learn a thing." I replied. "And anyway, by going to the posh school, it would look good on my CV." Dad seemed to think it was a good idea, but Mum had to spoil it.
"Mycroft never went to the same school as you did, so it wouldn't be fair."
WHO CARES ABOUT STUPID MYCROFT? HUH? I DON'T CARE THAT HE SAVED MY BACON IN ARGENTINA, BUT JUST BECAUSE HE DIDN'T GO TO THE POSH SCHOOL...
Then I had an idea. After dinner, I called the posh school up and arranged an interview. So tomorrow, instead of school, I'm going to see whether I can get into the posh place.
Mr. Smith is going to hate me, but he might not be my teacher for that long, so who cares? I certainly don't.
From,
Sherlock.

[honeybug]

OMG. SHERLOCKXDYLAN BROMANCE. Sherlan. I ship it. ^-^

[Nonexsitent]

GO SHERLOCK GO! WOOOOO! awww shame about Angie and Disel though...

[bubiza]

Dear Nincompoop,
Today was this interview with the posh school. I acted all normal, but instead of walking, I took a taxi. I'm sure the guy driving it overcharged me, since £36 for a five-mile journey is a rip-off. Still, I can't complain.
This could be the day where my education gets a lot better. And no more Dumbledore or Mr. Smith.
When I arrived, I was shown to the Headmaster's office. It was massive, full of deer heads and books and a big fire and a massive painting. This dog stood up, and held his paw out. I shook it awkwardly.
"Good day to you, young man. My name is Professor Whinchester, and I am the headmaster of this school." he said in a really posh voice.
This is Professor Whinchester:

He made me sit a test in Maths, English, Science and General Knowledge, which took all morning. When I finished, his PA came in and went to mark them. I was then given an interview, which was really formal and had questions such as "Why do you believe that you should attend this school?" and "What are your hopes and ambitions?" and "How do you feel about the current economic state internationally?" and "How do you feel today's youth are represented?" I just elaborated slightly, and used hand gestures. Posh kids love hand gestures for unknown reasons. I think it went well.
Then I was given two sample lessons, which was an Astronomy class and an Art class. I've never done Astronomy before, since my school follows the curriculum. I went in, and the teacher looked at me.
"I am Professor Cox, and I think I have seen you before..." he said.
This is Prodessor Cox:

"You might have seen me in the news... I was in that band..." I muttered. Then I spotted Dylan, who had this What exactly are you doing here? look on his face.
"Aah yes. I remember. You know, I was in a band myself, before I discovered the stars. I was a star." Then he laughed at his own joke. It was seriously awkward. We learnt about some weird Kepler 22-B planet, which is apparently exactly the same as ours. There might be alien clones of us. There might be an alien clone of me.
THAT WOULD BE SO FREAKY.

Art was a laugh, pretty much. Our teacher was absolutely mad, and the room was a mess.
"Wow! A new person! I love new people!" he cried when he saw me. I never found out his name, since he was running about, throwing comic books and textbooks and TVs and food wrappers everywhere. But this is what he looked like:

He gave me this massive book.
"What shall I do with it?" I asked.
"Cut it up and make something awesome." So I did. Dylan was on my table, stabbing a canvas with a penknife and then applying red paint. He kept staring at me.
"Look, Sherlock. Are you a stalker or something?" he snapped.
"No."
"Then why do you keep following me?"
"My... um... parents have been thinking of sending me here for a while." I lied.
"And Watson?"
"He wasn't interested. And you've spilt paint on the table." Practically half of the bottle was on the table, on the floor, everywhere. The teacher saw, and instead of cleaning it up with a cloth, he dipped his paws on it and started making handprints across the wall.
Once he finished, he came over and picked up my work with pride.
"This can go here," he said, placing it next to some massive skull of a cow. He then took Dylan's art and placed it on top of a stack of comic books.

After my taster lessons, I had another interview with the Head, and then went to the bus stop to get home. Dylan was there, sulking.
"Look, can you stop stalking me before the police get involved?" he asked, walking off. "And I hate the police."
"Same." I muttered. When the bus came, he sat at the opposite end for a bit, but the came over to where I was. He's quite unpredictable; one minute he's ignoring you and the next he's attempting to make conversation. Once I got home, Watson wanted to know where I had been.
"I didn't tell Mum, but what happened?" he asked.
"I... had a meeting, that's all." I replied coldly, and walked off. The less people know about this, the better.
The Head said he's going to make a decision about whether I can get a scholarship or not in the next few days, and he'll tell me.
Hope it's good news.
From,
Sherlock.

[AbbeyDawn]

Accept Sherlock Mr. Whinchester!

[bubiza]

Here is a really, really, really long entry, since A) They've been rubbish and rushed recently, B) Nothing happened much, C) They've been shorter and D) I felt like writing loads and it just all came to me.
So, enjoy...
____________________________________________________________________

Dear Nincompoop,
When I woke up today, Mum was on the phone to somebody.
"Yes... OK... Right... Yep, he's here... Yes, I'll tell him... OK... Bye!" she said, then turned to me. "Sherlock, do you know a Mr. Whinchester?"
"It seems a familiar name..." I replied.
"Oh, because he said that you did a test and you passed and that you can go somewhere starting from next week or something like that. I didn't really understand, since he sounded posh and used big long words."
OH. MY. GOSH. WHAT DOES SHE MEAN SOMETHING? THIS IS AMAZING!
I was incredibly happy, so I ate one of Mum's seeded bagels. Mycroft was drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.
"What's so good, huh?" he asked.
"I'm changing schools. To the posh one."
"Since when did we have £6,000 to send us to private school?"
"We didn't. It's scholarship." Mycroft glared at me, and went back to reading the finance bit. I spat out the bagel, since I realized what I was actually doing. Seeds are yucky. Ditto Mum's bagels.

At school, I told Angie and Diesel about what was happening, and how they should go as well.
"So... you're leaving?" Angie asked. "I don't want to go to the posh school."
"I don't see the point in having to pay for torture." Diesel muttered darkly. "But don't worry, Sherlock, you shall become rich and posh." Angie started laughing, and Diesel joined in. It got really annoying, since they started calling me Lord Sherlock and bowing down to me and doing the really posh accents. Even in PE they didn't stop. We had a Beep test, and every time they ran past me they started laughing and muttering, "Look at the posh kid run!" Beep tests are horrible. I got a Level 5. Diesel got a Level 7. Angie got a Level 16, and Mr. Smith said that she was the best in the class, and could join the Army. Candy got Level 2, and started sniffing again like she always does.
"Oh, Sherlock!" she cried. "I'm so, so bad at this..." She flung her arms around me, and started wailing.
"It doesn't matter." I said, trying to escape from the awkwardness. Oh boo hoo, I failed a stupid Beep Test. Big deal. She doesn't even want to be some athlete, so what's the big fuss? Huh?
"But... it... does... Oh... Sherlock... you... and... me... should... stick...together..at...school..." she sobbed.
"About that... Today is my last day here."
Then she entered Major Hysterical Mode, screaming her head off and then she fainted, probably because she used up all of her energy. Mr. Smith thought I'd made her faint, and started telling me off.
"How could you do such a horrible thing? Huh? From Monday, you shall have a two-hour detention after school, and your breaks shall dissolve. Now apologize." I just walked out, since I don't need to worry about all of these stupid detentions anymore. He caught up with me and for a moment, I thought he was going to slap me.
"Don't you dare walk away."
"I don't care. Today's my last day here at this dump of a school. Finally I shall get a decent education with teachers who can teach me the right stuff, not Pre-School work."
"Sherlock, I teach what I am told to. And most students find it challenging. You're above average, your Level higher than everybody else's, so I understand..."
"You don't, with all of those stupid levels that don't tell you anything. And if people are struggling, then it means they need to have lessons to stop them being so thick..." I stopped after saying that. I really shouldn't have.

At lunch, Angie and Diesel wouldn't go near me. They sat with Watson, and when I tried to go near, they moved away. I seemed to have the same effect with everybody. The only person who would was Candy, who wasn't present at my little speech.
"What's wrong, Sherlock?" she asked, sitting down.
"Nothing."
"There is..."
"There isn't, alright!?" I snapped. "Now leave me alone."
"Are you sad about leaving? Maybe we could see each other outside of school if that's what it is..."
"Why would he be sad about leaving all of us thick kids and this dump?" Angie muttered coolly. "His posh school has all the high-leveled kids he could dream of, and all of his hard work..."
Candy looked shocked, and kind of hurt. "But Sherlock wouldn't..."
"Oh, he did. Except his little girlfriend had fainted after running barley any distance." she muttered again, before turning back to her lunch. I swear Candy went bright red. At that moment, I decided to leave. Diesel chucked a bread roll at me, and everybody started booing. So, Nincompoop, this is great. On my last day of this school, I get everybody hating me. And Diesel and Angie, my two friends.
Friends? Am I really that soppy? And if they think I'm going to skip back to them, begging for them to love me and feed me rainbows...
Instead of heading back to the classroom, I locked myself up in one of the music rooms and let the music take over me. It makes you feel calm, and...
Who am I kidding? I sound like some woman advertising aromatherapy classes or yoga or something else.

Candy then walked in sadly. She stared at me for a while, but I ignored her.
"Violin Concerto No. 5 in A, 2nd Movement." she muttered once I finished. She smiled at me, then continued. "You know, I don't care what you said, but I'm going to miss you..."
"I don't care about some sob story."
"Sherlock..." She then randomly came up to me and hugged me tightly, then walked out again.
That... was awkward.
Why? WHY?
Even Watson wasn't very happy with me. "Why were you so horrible, Sherlock? They were your friends!"
"Oh pur-lease. I've heard enough, and I don't want you starting..."
"You know, you look down on people, and act like you're the best. And I'm sick of it. So goodbye." With that, he slammed out of the kitchen. So, yeah. Haters gonna hate.

But then Mycroft surprised me. He walked in, drinking yet more coffee.
"Is that all you ever drink?" I asked.
"Suppose so." he replied. "I heard Watson, by the way."
"Not another person starting...""
"And I have to agree."
WHAT. ON. EARTH? WAS MYCROFT SIDING WITH ME?
"You see, Watson always gets the attention, and he does my head in, acting like his big brother, blah blah blah. And school is a dump, and nobody had any brains."
"Maybe I shouldn't have said that bit."
"But my point is that you still said it, Sherlock. You said what you thought. And it takes courage."
"Is this is trick?"
"No. And I need to go to the gentlemen's club. Maybe you could come one time and check it out." And with that, he left.
Wow. Woooooooooow. Mycroft actually had a civil conversation with me. And invited me to his posh club.
I might give it a miss. Doesn't sound my cup of tea.
Anyway, Nincompoop, my hand hurts real bad. So more tomorrow.
From,
Sherlock.

[honeybug]

love. this. it. is. perfect. ily. <3

[xxazul63xx]

I was never with the idea he should change school, i kind of suspected he would turn posh and stuff.

[Nonexsitent]

Ouch, what he said about everyone was harsh but it's true, I'm on Sherlock's side ^.^

[AbbeyDawn]

Jeez Sherlock, just because its the truth doesn't mean you have to be so harsh. I happen to like Diesel and Angie's mushed-up brains. =(