The case of Holmes's missing underpants

Sherlock Holmes always comes up with the most extraordinary things. For example, how he investigated the theft of someone's things from a school wardrobe, using only a fork and a shoe, the disappearance of a kilogram of tangerines from the school cafeteria, or his own underwear, no matter how stupid it may sound. I want to talk specifically about the last, seemingly too childish incident, from which almost the entire male staff of our class (and one girl) had to extricate themselves. It was late December. This year it was especially cold, and the temperature fluctuations were probably as annoying to others as they were to me. As usual, I left the house at half past eight, and the first lesson began at half past eight. Why did I leave an hour earlier? Only because my old friend and comrade, who lives next door to me, always walked with me to school, and sometimes back. That day he was somehow late (well, as always), and I decided to go to his house. Having knocked on the door of the Holmes brothers (and they lived together, without parents), my friend opened it for me, standing in one shoe and with the other in his teeth. His hands were busy collecting his backpack. This picture happens every day, so I was no longer surprised at absolutely anything. — Are you coming? — I asked, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. — Yeah, I’m coming, I’m coming. — Sherlock sighed, putting the algebra textbook into his briefcase, zipping it up and starting to put on his outerwear. As usual, he was dressed unkemptly, the collar of his shirt was wrinkled, like his favorite blue jacket. Again, this didn't bother me. — Don't forget your physical fitness uniform. “I’m tired of listening to complaints from your PE teacher, — Mycroft’s voice was heard from the corridor as he threw a bag of clothes at his brother. He dodged, and then caught the bag near my face. Yes, and this too is the most common occurrence. — Good morning, John. — Good morning, Mr. Mycroft, — I replied and after I noticed a strange grin on my friend’s face. — You’ve got it right with your respect, Watson, talk to me on a first-name basis, — the brothers said in one voice. Yes, the younger Holmes always perfectly guesses the elder's remarks, to which Mycroft nods contemptuously. We didn't walk long, but Sherlock managed to fall five times, slipping on the ice. The ice was strong, and even my friend’s techniques did not help him stay on his feet. The first lesson was physical education. It would seem that this was the easiest subject, and most students must have loved it, but not Holmes, to whom an activity in which one did not need to solve anything seemed pointless and boring, even though he had good physical training. There were no ski lessons at our school, and in the winter we, like everyone else, practiced in the high-ceilinged gym. So, the first two stages - getting ready for school early in the morning and successfully arriving with all the broken limbs - have been completed, only the last point remains, which breaks down into two sub-points: take off your outerwear and change your shoes, hanging things in a huge cluster of class jackets, and get to the desired office. But even here a third subpoint is added: change clothes for PE. Sherlock, who is not strong in mathematics, and also has absolutely no desire to do it, has not been able to keep up with these points for ten years of studying at this school. No matter how much he tries to devote some time to each item (and he himself deliberately divided the beginning of the day into them), my friend is constantly distracted by something. Everything didn’t go according to plan from the moment he began to constantly fall on the street, and we lost plus or minus five minutes, so after that Holmes still had time to chat with Moriarty, completely forgetting about everything in the world. Sometimes I am simply amazed at him and how he manages to remain one of the two best students in the class. I think it’s not hard to guess who’s second. I am also constantly amazed by our classmates who change clothes while sitting on the floor of the dressing room, but more on that another time. Meanwhile, the clock is already 8:25, and there are only five minutes left to complete the third subpoint, and we have not yet dealt with the first. With a victorious look, Sherlock, who had been waiting for me for the same five minutes near the wardrobe, jumps out into the corridor and hurriedly heads to the locker room. Great. There are still three minutes left to complete the third step. Here the reader may have a question: why can’t we just change into sportswear at home, so as not to waste time in the locker room? So the fact is that our class teacher is a perfectionist man. And since we have a business style, we are forbidden to come immediately in sportswear. This is all carefully inspected by them, who are on duty at the entrance to the school. Of course, Sherlock has already fallen under his hot hand many times for his unkempt appearance. Of course, we are also given time from the physical education lesson to change clothes, but even Holmes can’t fit into that time. What’s going on in our locker room is absolutely a nightmare! — Get out from here! — a sneaker flew from Sebastian towards Irene, which William dodged at the same time. — On what basis is this?! — Adler kicked a shoe in the air, but it had no effect. She just threw the sneaker back. — You're a girl! You have nothing to do here! Go to the women's locker room! — Moran was clearly beside himself, not intending to change clothes until the object of his aggression came out. — Is it my fault that I was sent here to keep an eye on you? What didn’t I see there at all? Or are you ashamed of your body, hmm? — the blonde began to attack with moral pressure, grinning. — Me!? — Moran, your behavior now looks more like a girl. — my friend remarked, starting to change clothes. Sherlock didn't seem to care that now all the aggression would be redirected from Irene to him. Sebastian was about to continue quarreling and arguing, when suddenly Holmes swore loudly. — What's the matter, Sherly? — Moriarty curiously approached Holmes, who stood like a pillar and looked at the wall with a dumbfounded look. I came over too. — This will sound as strange as possible, but... my panties just disappeared. — Sherlock looked at us. — It was William who stoled it. — What nonsense. — Yes, nonsense. — I agree, nonsense. — I was just joking... — If Louis had been here during this joke, you wouldn’t have been here. “Listen, I have-” Herder didn’t have time to finish when he was interrupted. — No, Herder, you don't have a fingerprint device. — Sherlock sighed heavily and desperately. After falling silent for a moment, he perked up. — I think I know where they might be. — Where? — I walked up to my friend and looked at his expression. Now it showed some confusion mixed with awareness. — In the backpack. But now there’s a problem: we’ll have to look for a backpack. Or rather, I already know where it might be, but it will be very difficult to get there. — Sherlock became gloomy again. — It will be bad if we can’t get there until the end of classes. Although I already have a couple of ideas. — Where exactly? — William crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his elbows on the wall. I think he already knew the answer, but he asked just like that. — To the dressing room near the entrance. — Why is it difficult to get in? — I asked. — Come on, my friend. — Sherlock looked at me. He always looks at me with that look when I can’t understand something basic. — Today is Monday. Today, besides being on duty before the first lesson, the class teacher has only one lesson in our building, and that is the fifth. The wardrobes are closed until the end of five, and this damn cleaning lady will again demand some kind of non-existent pass or call the class teacher to confirm that we are not going to steal. But it’s not cool. In general, I have several options, but this one is the most workable: Sebastian came without a indoor shoes, and the class teacher noticed this this morning and told him to go to the office before this lesson and get his pass from school so that he could go home to take a change of shoes according to this merciless ice. So while we're borrowing you and your pass for a little while, sorry, Moran. Moran looked at my friend with his eyes widened in amazement, ready to object, but he was silenced by Moriarty’s gaze. I probably looked exactly the same as Sebastian. And Sherlock continued. — After that, you will go home for a shift and come back, and someone... John, for example, at the moment when you return from home with a shift and go into the locker room, will distract the security guard. If there is also a cleaning lady there at that moment, then you will have to try harder, John. So, when they are distracted, Sebastian will give my backpack to Irene, who has asked to leave, and Liam will go to look for John, who is missing in the toilet, at the request of Mr. Renfield. At this moment I will be sitting on a bench with a terribly aching leg and Irene will bring me a backpack, then I will quickly change clothes and that’s it. — Surprisingly, I came up with exactly the same plan. — William chuckled, closing his eyes. Sometimes I am amazed at their mental connection. — I'm surprised you didn't use your catchphrase this time, Sherlock, — I said, smiling. — “You will see everything, John?” — Exactly. — My algebra test is at stake, because in my briefcase I have not only panties, but also cheat sheets. Therefore, you should immediately approach the matter seriously. — It would be easier if you didn’t forget your backpack in the wardrobe. — It would be easier if you didn’t leave your underpants in your backpack, I’d say. — I sighed. — I know, I know, — Holmes sighed dissatisfiedly in response. — I suggest we get down to business. And things went not just fast, but went head over heels. I simply did not have time to follow all of them while they were animatedly doing something. The plan began to go about as I understood. At the beginning of the lesson, Sebastian warned Mr. Renfield (the PE teacher), went to the changing room and showed his pass to the security guard to leave the school building, and he went to get his shift. I asked to leave and leisurely left the gym and I heard questions about what I did before class. What, what? I listened to Sherlock's plan to return his own backpack with underpants and cheat sheets. Everything so far has gone surprisingly very smoothly. I started to think this was just the calm before the storm. Moran returned five minutes later, because he lived opposite the school, and then it was my turn to go out. I literally had no acting skills at all, and I already regretted that I had signed up for this dubious adventure. It would be easier to distract Irene, who is in a theater group and is doing quite well, but she had an equally important role. I gathered all my will into a fist and went out into the corridor, and what was my disappointment when I saw that there was also a cleaning lady there, and not just a security guard. Moran noticed me and went into the dressing room, starting to write Adler a message about full combat readiness. I took a deep breath and fell alive in front of the guard and the cleaning lady on the cold school tiles. While I was desperately pretending to be an unconscious cucumber, I heard Sebastian’s steps and how something fabric and heavy slid not far from me. I assumed it was Moran who kicked the backpack under the benches and sent it flying low on the landing gear. But that’s just what I was trying to hear, while in front of my nose the guard and the cleaning lady were talking incoherently and anxiously about something. I was listening to something completely different, so I only heard fragments of phrases like “..hey.. ..alive?..first aid station!” Footsteps were heard again, now the imperious click of the heels of men's shoes. Now I couldn’t make out who it was, so I was wary, because such an imperious gait could only be... — Mr. Milverton! Good morning.. is this not yours by any chance?.. How could I not have guessed it right away!? Classroom teacher! We were in such a hurry that we forgot to come up with a signal if suddenly Milverton came downstairs for the keys to the office... I could hear light girlish steps quickly disappearing around the bend. Irene, well done, she saved herself! But Sebastian was not very lucky. — Yes, mine. And this one, which is near the bench, is also mine. — Charles narrowed his eyes contemptuously. I decided to pretend to be dead, because I didn’t want questions right here and now. “The dead guy,” that is me, he and the guard dragged into the medical room, and then he began to interrogate Moran. I no longer knew what was going on with him, but for some reason I was sure that this school naughtie would come out unscathed. Meanwhile, I was with the nurse and, to her surprise, I woke up very quickly, right after the guard and the class teacher left the medical room. Immediately I realized that I was stupid, and I needed to portray an unfortunate patient. I grabbed my head. — Ahhh.... damn.. how bad my head hurts!!.. — I understood that I was a useless actor. — So, who are you and what class are you from? — The school nurse looked down at me, crossing her arms over her chest. — Mrs. Hudson... — MISS Hudson. — She corrected me and frowned. — So who are you? — John Watson.. from the tenth "S" grade.. — Yeah. So, John Watson, are you faking it or are you really feeling bad? — It’s really bad... the head is smoking!! — Then it’s to the smoking room in the school toilet on the third floor, and then to the director, but definitely not to me. — No.. I meant.. my head hurts. — I frantically tried to show myself as a dying patient and dramatically grabbed my head. I couldn't help but think that I was overacting, but there was no going back. In the midst of many questions about whether I ate this morning, what I ate, what I ate yesterday, and even a month ago, William finally came into the medical room. He did a really good job of pretending he didn't know I was here. — Oh, John. That's where you were. — He made a surprised face so successfully that I myself believed that he had been looking for me for a long time. I breathed a sigh of relief when my suffering in the form of lousy acting was finally over. — Mr. Renfield asked to look for you. I didn't think I'd find you here. And good morning to you, Miss Hudson. If you've already finished, I'll take John to PE. — Ah... good morning, William. — the nurse smiled welcomingly. — Of course, take this sick one. And tell Mr. Milverton that he is alive and feeling well. William and I returned to the gym. There, already satisfied, Sherlock began to do physical exercises with the others, and Sebastian had also returned. — Listen, Sherly, if your panties were in your backpack, then what were you wearing? — William asked Sherlock in the locker room after class. He became thoughtful and took out an algebra textbook from his pants. — Well, there he is. — Moran burst out laughing, and Adler, watching this herd of adult deer, who only fifteen minutes ago were looking for panties throughout the school, and now were laughing at an algebra textbook in their pants, sighed heavily and turned away in disgust. I watched this herd with a smile. How I love my stupid class. And the story could have ended there, but that was not the case. A couple of minutes later we stood in Milverton's office: Me, Sherlock, William, Sebastian and Irene. All the defendants in the last case stood before the class teacher as if it were a criminal case, and the perpetrators were sentenced to death. Mr. Milverton is a smart man, so he could have guessed what we did, but... — Why did you call us, Mr. Milverton? — William asked in a calm tone, acting as a negotiator. — You are my Olympiad students, so I wrote you passes from school so that you can go to the Olympiad with your teachers. — The class teacher changed his face and smiled. We all breathed a sigh of relief and then looked at Moran. He? Olympian!? — Our Sebastian can only be an Olympiad in physical education. — Irene grinned venomously, looking at Sebastian, and he showed absolute displeasure. — I already take the standards every year, and I’m an Olympiad student in languages and computer science, so shut your mouth. — It’s indecent to talk to ladies like that, Moran. — Charles pointed at him and tapped his fingers on the table. I exchanged glances with Sherlock. We both tried not to laugh, but William just smiled as he stood next to us.