I believe...

My heart is racing, pumping adrenaline to every one of my cells. I've never done anything even mildly illegal before- the worst trouble I can remember getting in is detention for throwing mulch at a mean boy when I was ten years old.

It's drizzling lightly, so I blend in perfectly with my hood pulled over my face. With my thumbs hooked under the straps of my backpack, I could be any teen out for fun on a Friday night. I keep walking, head ducked slightly, for a few blocks, until I reach the spot. I stare at this blank brick wall every day after school at my job in the cafe across the street. The cafe makes the area busy enough during the day, but when it closes, this place is empty. My only companion is the yellow-orange glow of the streetlight.

I glance around quickly, just in case. Then I reach into my bag and pull out the can of bright yellow paint. Wincing at the popping, hissing sound it makes when I shake it, I spritz a test streak. All right.

Steeling my nerves, I make the streak an i. It's surprisingly slow work to make it legible, since I've never done anything like this before. I begin painstakingly copying the message everyone's seen sprinkled across the city. I believe-

I'm so wound up that when I hear the quiet sound of footsteps, I jump, stretching out the lowercase i of in. I whip around, catching a glimpse of the person who...can't be who I think he is.

I barely catch a glimpse of his face- worried, every line pointing to sad eyes. His shoulders are slightly hunched against the cold under a weird black jacket with what look like elbow patches, and he's got short, military-style blond hair.

He catches my eye for a second, and neither of us say anything before he continues on his way, but i caught the distinct feeling of approval.

I look up at my message scrawled on the wall, and can't help a tiny smile with the idea that's struck me. I add a curve to the bottom of the line I messed up and keep writing. Then I look around again, throw the spray can into the backpack again, and start the way I came from, leaving a sunny yellow proclamation for all to see:

I believe John Watson!