The next day was hardly better than the first. Sherlock was utterly bored. He, being the son of William and Carol Holmes, had a higher intellect than most children his age. He found that the subjects, and the way they were being taught here, were rather boring and not mentally stimulating. Plus, it didn't help that Sherlock was at least a year ahead in math, knew all about the American Revolution, nor the fact that he perused science and technology articles and books in his free time. The only challenging parts of the day were gym and cooking, his chosen elective. He had almost no endurance and continuously burned his finger on the stove.

Fox Mulder was in two of his classes, but not much else. After the incident yesterday, rumors had already started flying around that he had stolen the phone and deluded poor Sherlock Holmes into thinking he hadn't done it. Sherlock, after hearing of these topics of conversation from a few curious 7th graders who were bold enough to ask him, sent them scurrying away with a glare. How dare these people think Mulder stole the phone, then tricked him into believing he hadn't stolen it! Fuming, Sherlock marched toward his locker. As he'd thought, Mulder was eating a sandwich beside it. "Mulder! Did you hear the rumors?"

"Huh? Oh, hi Sherlock. Yeah, I did. So?" Mulder continued chowing down the wilted lettuce and tomatoes with mayonnaise, licking his fingers as he did so.

"What do you mean, so? We've got to prove them wrong. You didn't do it, did you?" Sherlock asked, plopping down next to his friend, already running through the scenario from yesterday, searching for anything he might've have missed.

"Of course not, Sherlock." Mulder stared at him, affronted. Their discussion was cut off when the bell rang. "I'll see you tomorrow?" Sherlock nodded at him, and both boys parted ways. As Sherlock made his way to 5th period science, he knocked into a boy running across the quad.

"Hey! Watch it-! Sherlock?" The boy paused, heels skidding across the asphalt. At the sound of his name, Sherlock's head whipped back around, toward the boy. He was shorter than he, with loose blond hair over his eyes. Square glasses magnified his blue irises. "It's me, John Watson!"

' John Watson... John... Watson. Watson!' Sherlock remembered him now. His mother had gone to his parents for help in proving that she hadn't murdered her fellow soldiers on a mission in Afghanistan.

"Hello, John. How are you?" Sherlock replied, walking toward his class.

"Angry, as of right now!" John yelled, as he was running back across the Quad again. "My phone just got stolen, and it was literally sitting right next to me! We can catch up later, don't be late to class!" He left, leaving Sherlock to jog to his class. He came in right as the bell rang. The teacher, Mr. Clark, looked pointedly at the clock.

"Sorry, sir," Sherlock said. "I got lost again." Mr. Clark nodded, apparently, this explanation was sufficient for him. Sherlock returned to his seat, taking out the materials he needed. As he did a melting ice experiment, however, his mind kept returning to the recent crimes. Now two phones had been stolen, in just two days. 'Hmm... The person doing it must be quiet, and probably small, to avoid the notice of so many people...' Sherlock, being so lost in thought, didn't realize that he was holding the beaker with the tongs, and, forgetting for a moment to put pressure on the handle, he dropped the beaker. The hot water cascaded out of the broken glass beaker and onto his feet. Sherlock yelped, jumping into the air in an effort to escape the scalding liquid.

***

It was the end of Sherlock's first week at Coral Springs and his parents were unable to pick him up. In the text his mother sent, she explained that, "We are in a crucial part of the investigation. Father and I have just found a lead pertaining to the homicide victim's death. Please walk home and prepare dinner." Sherlock sighed. The apartment they were staying in was 2.45 miles away and went through Downtown Santa Cruz, which was busy at this time of day. He turned toward the direction of his house after waving a quick goodbye to Mulder.

He was joined on the sidewalk a minute later by John and the short, red haired girl, Dana Scully. She waved at him, offering him a friendly smile. Sherlock merely nodded his head in greeting. "Hi Sherlock!" John smiled, awkwardly. They hadn't seen each other in 2 years, ever since his Mother was cleared of all charges. "This is my best friend, Dana Scully. Dana, this is Sherlock."

"Hello. I'm walking home, now. If you've anything to talk to me about, tell me tomorrow." John looked unfazed as Sherlock sped up his pace, getting ahead of them. Dana, however, looked shocked, almost angry.

"Sherlock! I know you can help me find who stole my phone, Phoebe's too." John called after him, making him pause. "I can tell you what happened, and Dana can too."

"Fine," Sherlock said, slowing down and allowing them to catch up to him. "But this better be fast, I need to prepare dinner."

"Okay," Dana nodded. "It was on Tuesday, as you know, and John and I were having lunch. I was studying for the algebra test that day."

"Oh? That was an easy test, I got a 100%. How about you?" Sherlock inquired, not really paying attention to what was being said.

"Uh, a 99%," Dana mumbled, blushing. "But anyway, I was studying for the Test when John was dragged off to talk to some of his other friends. I was mostly looking down at the textbook but then this girl tripped. Her lunch tray went flying and she just fell down. Of course, I went to help her and when I came back, John's phone was gone."

"Did the girl who tripped ever do anything else? Like, maybe snatch the phone?"

"No," She shook her head. "I had an eye on her the whole time, it wasn't her."

"Did you notice anyone else close by?"

"There was this girl that passed by, but I couldn't see her face."

"Alright, thank you Dana." Sherlock continued to ask questions about the whole ordeal. By the end, the only relevant information that he'd received was that John's phone was a model of the iPhone 6 plus, and that he'd only gotten it last month. As they were turning the street corner, John suddenly stopped, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Wait!! That's my phone!" He was pointing toward a black iPhone 6 displayed in the window of an electronics store. On the glass above it, it read, 'Trade in Used Phones for $$$.'

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked, peering at it. "It looks like any other iPhone 6 plus out there."

"Yes! It is!" Dana exclaimed. "It has that same dent on the right corner when you dropped it last week!" Sherlock studied the metal surface, and there was indeed an indentation there. Without a word, he strode into the shop, quickly followed by his friends.

"Hello?" Sherlock called, stepping into the dimly lit room. Dusty old models of DVD players and computers sat on top of rickety metal shelves. Cords and chargers were hung on the wall, with a tag explaining what it connected to. The three teens ventured farther into the shop, pausing at glass case with John's phone. The tag on it had a bold $245 emblazoned on it in Sharpie.

A balding man with thick glasses looked up from the counter. "Hello, my name is Frohike, what can I help you with today? The Lone Gunmen have a great selection of cheap phones, laptops, and chargers. We also offer-"

"No, no. None of those. We just need to ask, who brought in iPhone 6 Plus displayed in the window? My friend here just got his own phone stolen, and it looks exactly like that one." Sherlock interrupted the spiel that was soon to follow. Frohike paused, in thought.

"Hey, Byers, Langly? Do you remember what they looked like?" A man with long, messy blonde hair and glasses poked his head around the corner.

"No! The person was wearing long pants and a hoodie. I'm not even sure if it was a boy or a girl!" Another head popped up above the first one. He was clean shaven, with brown hair.

"I have their signature here though." The third man threw a book towards Frohike, who caught it while his friends disappeared around the back again. He turned toward the latest entry; a contract outlining the agreement to trade in a phone for money and pointed to the scrawled initials on the paper. I.R.A.

Sherlock peered at the neat signature embellished across white paper. There were no blots of ink, and the pressure on the pen did not change. This indicates that the person was not in a hurry. 'No shaking of the pen either. Nothing to worry about, then?'

"It must be a girl!" John exclaimed, pointing to the curls in R and A. In response, Sherlock raised a thin brow, picked up a pen lying on the table and signed his name. Sherlock Holmes. Seeing his curled, fancy script, John flushed. "Nevermind."

"Remember, never assume," Sherlock told him, then thanked Frohike. He walked out with Dana. They had to wait only a few minutes for John to come back out, after haggling for his phone back. Though he was given a generous discount for the device, he still had to pay 125 dollars.

"Thank you Sherlock," John sighed, stopping in front of his home. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, bye." Sherlock left John, continuing on with Dana. As they neared a wooden, brightly painted house, Dana bid her goodbyes and turned to leave. Soon, Sherlock was walking alone, the sun already starting to sink toward the horizon. The cool breeze blowing in from the sea smelled of salt, and helped focus his mind.

'I know that the culprit is a person who has had experience committing thefts like this before. They are calm collected, and comfortable with the sin committed. They are most likely in my grade, and targets new or expensive phones.' Sherlock snorted derisively, that narrowed it down! When he entered the house, his elder brother, Mycroft, was at the stove already, trying to light the burner. His dark brown hair, same as his, were sticking up in points. He, had, Sherlock deduced, been running his fingers through it with oily fingers.

"Hey! Why are you so late? You were supposed to have dinner cooked by now! Mother and Father will be angry." Sherlock sighed and took the lighter from his brother. He was clueless at practical things, but his wit and brain power could rival that of Steve Jobs, and he was only 16.

"I'll just heat up a soup, calm down Croft." That night, Mycroft and Sherlock ate alone. It was a family policy that if their parents weren't home by 8:30, they would eat without them.