A Universe of Possibilities - Teenlock/Johnlock/Mystrade

Chapter 4- First Day

John was awakened early the next morning not at 7, but at 4:30 am; and not by the sound of his alarm, but by the smooth, bold melody of a violin.

The first thing John noticed was that it was possibly the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. The way the bow seemed to gently kiss the strings, producing long, silky notes was perfection, and might've lulled John back to sleep....had it not been so terribly loud.

The second thing he noticed was that it was still dark out, and he was still extremely tired. Had it been later in the day, or earlier that night, or basically any time but the wee hours of the morning, John might've sat back and enjoyed the beautiful sound. But at four-fucking-thirty in the morning, he wished he had a rock to throw at his roommate.

He settled for a pillow, which hit Sherlock square in the violin-playing arm.

"Aah! What the hell John? Do you mind?"

John sat up and turned on his lamp, hardly able to believe his ears. "Do I mind?! What about you?! Do you know what time it is???!!"

Sherlock moved to check the clock by his bed. "It appears to be....4:32 in the morning. Why, do you have an appointment or something?"

John sputtered in anger and disbelief. "I- you- how can....do you even-ugh!" Unable to form a proper sentence, John just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Meanwhile, Sherlock continued playing his violin. Until about ten seconds later.

BANG BANG BANG. The sound of an angry fist beating on their door made both boys jump, Sherlock nearly dropping his instrument. "OI! KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF, WOULD YOU? PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!"

Sherlock just scoffed, and was about to continue playing when John marched over to his side of the room and yanked the violin out of his hands. "Enough," he said, firmly.

Sherlock groaned loudly. This John Watson kid was as bad as his parents. He assumed the next thing he would do was lecture him about the concept of "having consideration for others".

But instead, John set the instrument down and sat on Sherlock's bed. "What's the matter with you?" He asked, sounding more concerned than annoyed. "Can't sleep or something?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Obviously. If I could sleep, I'd be sleeping."

"Okay," John replied, ignoring his roommate's condescending tone. "Why can't you sleep?"

"Bored."

"It's four-thirty in the morning. Why are you bored?"

"I......"

Sherlock paused. It was one of the first times in his life when he was at a loss for words. No one- literally no one- had ever asked him this many 'why' questions before (unless it was "why are you so horrible?!"). Nobody ever seemed to care why he could never sleep, or why he was constantly bored. It had always been "Sherlock, stop playing the violin at four a.m.!" or "Sherlock, stop sneaking down to the police station and annoying the nice officers!" or "Sherlock, stop stealing from our bank account and using the money to buy cocaine!"

Nobody ever asked why.

"Because...." He began, wondering how he could phrase his answer without sounding insane- and then wondering why he suddenly cared what someone else thought.

"Life is boring," he finally said. "People and classes and the whole goddamn world. It's all so mundane and repetitive, and my brain is-" he stopped suddenly. What the hell was he doing? He had just met this boy yesterday, and he was about to bare his goddamn soul to him? No way.