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Description
John had been watching the black haired boy for several days now. Sherlock Holmes was his name. A pretty weird name, sure, but John had heard worse. But it wasn’t the name that caught John’s interest. Sherlock was a very strange child. He had no friends, that John could see, and no interest in making any. He usually sat in the back of the classroom, fiddling with whatever he had at hand. Sometimes it was a pen, sometimes a ball of clay. Once, he had made a slingshot using two pencils and a rubber band and had shot seven balls of crumpled paper into the teacher’s hair before she noticed. He only spoke up to correct someone, to complain about how bored he was, or to insult anyone who was rude to him by correctly revealing one of their deepest secrets.
The other kids had various nicknames for him. Anderson called him a weirdo; Sally called him a freak. John called him fascinating. Day after day, he couldn’t get the mysterious Sherlock Holmes out of his head. This fact quite bothered him, because he’d never actually spoken a word to the object of his fascination. Their one interaction had been the first day of school, when Sherlock had approached him and said “I hope your mother knows about your sister’s drinking problem.” John’s mouth had opened and closed several times but he could think of nothing to say. With his message delivered, Sherlock had simply walked away, leaving John staring at his retreating back.
From that day on, John had been consumed with curiosity regarding the strange boy. John was well liked by most of the other kids, and he never lacked someone to play with, but none of them really made an impression on him. There was only one person at the school who interested him, and that was Sherlock Holmes. He wanted to get closer to him, to find out why he was so unusual.
Finally, he decided that there was only one solution to this problem. During Art class, he ignored the teacher’s instructions and set to work on his own project. Sherlock had been sent to the office- again- for throwing scissors at the wall. No one, aside from John, cared that he’d made a perfect smiley face. But it was better this way, because now Sherlock wouldn’t see him doing this. Gathering scissors, glue, construction paper, and paint, he set to work.
Sherlock returned from the office a little after snack-time. John had been careful to hide his special project once art class was over. He was finished, but he needed to wait for the right time. That time came when the teacher announced that they could play outside once they were finished lunch. The result was a mass stampede for the door. John didn’t follow the other kids. Instead, he went to his cubby and pulled out the poster he had hidden there.
To his immense surprise, Sherlock was standing there when he turned around, just a few feet away from him and watching him intently.
“Why aren’t you going outside with everyone else?” Sherlock asked.
John didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t speak at all. Instead, he held up the poster he had made. Light blue, and decorated with darker blue stars, the poster had the words “Will you be my friend?” written on it in purple paint.
John expected ridicule, or simply no response. But Sherlock simply reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a sheet of paper. After unfolding it carefully, he held it up for John to see.
“Yes”
That was supposed to be a mini fic. I got a bit carried away. Sorry. But, hope you enjoyed it anyway. They're about eight in this (and Harry is 17, if anyone's wondering).

So, yeah, Sherlock Chibis are so much fun to draw.

Description
John had been watching the black haired boy for several days now. Sherlock Holmes was his name. A pretty weird name, sure, but John had heard worse. But it wasn’t the name that caught John’s interest. Sherlock was a very strange child. He had no friends, that John could see, and no interest in making any. He usually sat in the back of the classroom, fiddling with whatever he had at hand. Sometimes it was a pen, sometimes a ball of clay. Once, he had made a slingshot using two pencils and a rubber band and had shot seven balls of crumpled paper into the teacher’s hair before she noticed. He only spoke up to correct someone, to complain about how bored he was, or to insult anyone who was rude to him by correctly revealing one of their deepest secrets.
The other kids had various nicknames for him. Anderson called him a weirdo; Sally called him a freak. John called him fascinating. Day after day, he couldn’t get the mysterious Sherlock Holmes out of his head. This fact quite bothered him, because he’d never actually spoken a word to the object of his fascination. Their one interaction had been the first day of school, when Sherlock had approached him and said “I hope your mother knows about your sister’s drinking problem.” John’s mouth had opened and closed several times but he could think of nothing to say. With his message delivered, Sherlock had simply walked away, leaving John staring at his retreating back.
From that day on, John had been consumed with curiosity regarding the strange boy. John was well liked by most of the other kids, and he never lacked someone to play with, but none of them really made an impression on him. There was only one person at the school who interested him, and that was Sherlock Holmes. He wanted to get closer to him, to find out why he was so unusual.
Finally, he decided that there was only one solution to this problem. During Art class, he ignored the teacher’s instructions and set to work on his own project. Sherlock had been sent to the office- again- for throwing scissors at the wall. No one, aside from John, cared that he’d made a perfect smiley face. But it was better this way, because now Sherlock wouldn’t see him doing this. Gathering scissors, glue, construction paper, and paint, he set to work.
Sherlock returned from the office a little after snack-time. John had been careful to hide his special project once art class was over. He was finished, but he needed to wait for the right time. That time came when the teacher announced that they could play outside once they were finished lunch. The result was a mass stampede for the door. John didn’t follow the other kids. Instead, he went to his cubby and pulled out the poster he had hidden there.
To his immense surprise, Sherlock was standing there when he turned around, just a few feet away from him and watching him intently.
“Why aren’t you going outside with everyone else?” Sherlock asked.
John didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t speak at all. Instead, he held up the poster he had made. Light blue, and decorated with darker blue stars, the poster had the words “Will you be my friend?” written on it in purple paint.
John expected ridicule, or simply no response. But Sherlock simply reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a sheet of paper. After unfolding it carefully, he held it up for John to see.
“Yes”
That was supposed to be a mini fic. I got a bit carried away. Sorry. But, hope you enjoyed it anyway. They're about eight in this (and Harry is 17, if anyone's wondering).

So, yeah, Sherlock Chibis are so much fun to draw.