"Mycroft I told you, I'm fine!" Sherlock yelled, like last time assuming it was his brother that was knocking.
"It's John!" John called, maybe a little bit too loud, but there was silence.
"Come in!" he decided, and John opened the door cautiously. There were six beds lined against the wall, all looking the same, even though they were trashed. The last one though, had the curtains pulled around it, and Sherlock's eyes peered from the shadows within.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling the curtains back more so they could talk properly.
"I was looking for some homework help." John admitted, walking closer with an innocent smile.
"Well I'm here if you need me, what is it?" Sherlock asked.
"Everything." John shrugged, pulling his bag from his shoulder and sitting on the bed across from Sherlock's curtain cave.
"Oh god, don't do that, Sam will play Hell." Sherlock pointed out. "Come in here." he decided, scooting out of sight. John looked around nervously, knowing what Greg would say if he knew that John was about to climb into Sherlock's bed. But it was homework, that's all, totally innocent. John pulled the curtains back to see a stack of books and multiple Jolly Rancher boxes strewn along the blue quilt. Sherlock sat against the headboard, his knees brought up to his chest and a thoughtful, almost childish look on his face. The blue flame was returned, in the jar once again, but lighting up the cocoon of curtains and blankets in a dull blue light. John sat crisscrossed on the foot of the bed, pulling his books out of his bag while Sherlock pulled the curtains shut. There was plenty of room for both of them plus all the rubbish in the tent to sit comfortably, but it was still pretty much breaking every level of awkward John knew existed.
"I need to write a foot and a half about the Giant Wars." Joh decided.
"Oh, that was simple." Sherlock decided.
"No it's not; it's the bloody Giant Wars! Half of them have the same name and they don't seem to have a conflict except anger management problems." John groaned. Sherlock looked down at the books in shame, looking a bit hurt.
"Which is totally fine by the way, it's normal." John added, making Sherlock just smile sadly.
"Nice save." He laughed from behind the curtain of curls hiding his tilted face.
"I tried, that's what matters." John defended.
"Sure." Sherlock laughed. John dipped his quill in the ink, starting off the essay with as much filler as he could manage and still make it acceptable.
"So what do you have now?" Sherlock asked.
"Nothing." John said truthfully.
"That's not very reassuring." Sherlock decided.
"No, it's not." John agreed.
"Put Bran the Bloodthirsty in there somewhere; mention how they fought over the Fist Rocks also." Sherlock suggested.
"I've never even heard of that name." John admitted.
"Have you been paying attention in class?" Sherlock asked.
"No of course not, have you?" John laughed.
"It may shock you, but yes." Sherlock pointed out.
"Why would you ever, more like how?" John asked.
"I want to pass my NEWTS." Sherlock admitted.
"Well I know that, but why do you need to, aren't you going to be a detective?" John asked.
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Hogwarts
FanfictionJohn is the Quidditch star and Sherlock is the school freak. They hate each other at first, but what's to say old resentments can't be forgotten? Johnlock Potterlock Mystrade Fluff only