Can't go back

Teenlock! Like I said before, I don't usually do AUs, but I had the sudden urge to do a teenlock. I sent this to a friend and asked her to come up with a title with me, but she hasn't responded yet. I just put in a line for later, but if any of you have ideas for titles I'd love to hear suggestions. Later chapters to include Johnlock.

COMMENT!

~Trisha

***

I can’t say I wasn’t anxious. First day, new school. That’s enough to make anybody anxious. And then there was the almost guaranteed fact that I wouldn’t fit in. I knew I wouldn’t, there was no point hiding it. How could I at this posh new school with all these snobby rich kids? Not that I wasn’t grateful. I didn’t even know how my parents had arranged for it.

I waved bye to the fading car and grabbed my suitcase from the curb, joining the rush of students all searching for their dorms at the start of term. The school was in a fairly isolated area out of the city and into the country. I marveled a little at its size and location. The trees, the lake, everything was amazing. Not like the slabs of concrete I had left behind in London. Don’t get me wrong, I love London, but this felt so different, so green, so free.

There were four dorm buildings, two for the girls and two for the boys, divided by a path so the girls dorms were on one side and the boys were on the other. Past the dorms the path turned and ran along the front of another building which I assumed was for classes. I headed for the dorm closest to me, which read Building B on a sign near the door. Once inside I stopped to check my schedule which also had my dorm assignment listed. Let’s see... Building B, second floor, room twenty-one. I found the stairs quickly, glad that I didn’t have a ton of stuff to lug up them. The door was left unlocked so I just walked in, setting my suitcase at the foot of the second bed and pulling my book bag off my shoulder. There were two beds, lined next to each other with a lamp in between. I had chosen the bed furthest from the door, close to the window. Across from the beds was a single desk, and on each side of the desk were two rows of shelving to hold books or whatever else. There were two small dressers. Other than that the room was bare.

I began to unpack, having nothing better to do. I emptied my book bag first, filling the selves on one side with books and three-ring binders for classes. I reached in the bottom of my bag. It was almost empty, but I felt my fingers brush against something flat at the bottom. I pulled out the picture frame, remembering for the first time that I had packed it.

In the wooden frame was a picture of us. The four of us, from when we were actually happy. My little sister Harry and I stood in the front, laughing about some long forgotten joke. My mom stood behind me, smiling brightly into the camera as sun glinted off her glasses. She had one arm around my dad. He was a short rugged man with square shoulders who was laughing pleasantly as well. The picture lied. My dad was anything but pleasant. I felt terrible about leaving Harry to deal with him, but I had to get away. I couldn’t stay there anymore. Not with him.

I had just started to unpack my suitcase when I heard the door open behind me. In the doorway stood a tall, thin boy with uncontrollable curly black hair. He was pale, as if he had never been outside in his life, and was wearing a pair of slacks and a purple button up. Pretty fancy, even for this school. I mean, there were a lot of rich kids here, but the dress code was basically if you’re covered you’re good so most of the school went around in jeans and t-shirts.

He glanced at me once before unpacking, not saying a word as he did so. I opened my mouth to introduce myself but he cut me off before I could speak. "Please don’t feel the need to make conversation. We are forced to endure each other for a year. That’s all. Although it would be beneficial for me to know your name."

Wow. Okay. Not the most social... "Umm..." What was I supposed to say to that?

"Or have you forgotten it?" he continued, already getting on my nerves. This was going to be a fun year.

"John," I held out my hand for him to shake. Try to be polite. "John Watson."

He looked at me both shocked and amazed. After a few moments I dropped my hand. And then he started to chuckle, a low vibrating noise that soon turned to full on laughter. Oh god, I was rooming with a madman!

After a moment he was able to regain control and slowly he stopped laughing. "Sorry. Sherlock Holmes."

"What, like Arthur Conan Doyle's?"

He nodded and scowled, apparently not thrilled by his name. "Yes. At least you know understand the reference, unlike most people. Apparently my parents found it funny. Which is why when I heard your name it was so amusing."

Well, that was a relief. At least I wasn’t rooming with a complete lunatic. "So, are you as smart as the original?"

He smiled and his eyes lit up brightly. "Smarter, actually. You want me to prove it, yes?" I nodded. Sherlock paused for a moment before beginning. "I know you’re training to be a doctor, probably an army one. You’re not rich like some of the other students; your family can barely afford to send you here. You play football but this school doesn’t offer scholarships for that sort of thing. You’re worried about your family’s financial state but you came anyway. Why... Your father isn’t it? Yes. Alcoholic, abusive. You feel guilty about leaving your sister at home, but you had to get away so you came." Sherlock’s body tensed a bit and he glared at me as he waited for my reaction.

I stood there shocked for a minute. I mean, what was I supposed to say to that? I mean, everything that in my life that I didn’t want anyone to know this kid had read off me in a matter of two minutes. And yet I had to admit I was impressed.

"That was... Amazing." Sherlock frowned and drew his eyebrows together for a brief second but relaxed a bit.

"Really?"

I nodded. "Incredible."

"That’s not what people normally say..." he muttered under his breath.

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off." I smiled and started to laugh. Sherlock looked at me a little surprised but after a moment chuckled as well.

"So, how'd you know that?" I asked when we regained control of ourselves. Sherlock just smirked and worked on unpacking, refusing to tell me this secret. I sighed and resumed unpacking my clothes.

"So, tell me about yourself," I said. After all, he knew practically everything about me. Meanwhile I knew nothing about him.

"I told you, it’s not necessary for us to know about each other."

"Come on," I persisted. "You know everything about me. At least tell me one thing about you."

"Violin. I play the violin when I’m thinking, sometimes I don’t talk for days on end. Would that bother you? I suppose if we are rooming together we should know the worst about each other."

"That it Holmes?" I had to admit I was expecting a little more than that. We were sharing a room for a year and all I knew was this guy played violin.

"Please refrain from calling me that," he retorted quickly.

"What would you like me to call you then?"

"Sherlock would be appropriate as that’s my name."

"Alright then... Sherly."