The sociopathic genius. (Discontinued.)

The sociopathic genius.

 Prologue for John.

"Good luck honey."

"Have fun and behave yourself."

John's mother lent over and gave him a big hug, sniffing slightly as she did so. She was always very emotional. John's father smiled and gave John a pat on the shoulder. The last member of the family, John's sister Harriet, ruffled his hair. "Look after yourself you hear" she said, grinning. John looked at his sister and replied "I don't think I'm the one to worry about Harry." "True" Harry smirked and she gave John a quick one arm hug. He could never decide if he liked his sister or not. She was a nice enough person and she could be really nice sometimes but she just got on his nerves. It was mainly her habit of going to late night drinking parties almost every night, even now she smelt of vodka. There was another few minutes exchanging last goodbyes before John got on the train and found himself a window seat. He waved energetically out of the window of the moving train as his family slowly disappeared from view. John sat for a while, thinking about what was to come. John was on his way to boarding school for the first time. He'd managed to get a scholarship to one of the best schools in the country. His mum was always telling their friends at home about how he managed to pass the entry exam ("oh he's so clever, my boy.") Which John found embarrassing. He'd only just achieved the right mark (what hell he went through trying to answer question 10), it didn't make him a genius. He was certain there would be kids at school twice as clever as he was. The countryside flashed past the window as the morning wore on. John opened the book he had bought to read on the train and tried to ignore the nerves that where building up inside him. Everything he knew was behind him, everything ahead was new. He desperately hoped he'd be able to make friends.

Prologue for Sherlock.

Sherlock strode along the lawn in front of the school, on his way to his dorm room. The grounds were practically empty, only a few teachers and members of staff around. It was always like this. Sherlock was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. This was his last chance to make it work. He'd been going here since he was 11 and things had never gone that smoothly. Among other problems Sherlock couldn't manage to stay in one dorm room, not that he tried very hard. At the start of every term Sherlock was assigned a new dorm room and a new roommate but his roommate would get annoyed with him. So much so that he had to be moved before a fight broke out. This was a key factor in why everyone hated Sherlock. He had now shared a room with practically everyone in his year so by the process of elimination he guessed his roommate this term would be one of the new kids. Joy. If he didn't make things work this time then he'd be moved to a private room. Sherlock couldn't think of anything better, Sherlock's parents on the other hand didn't agree. Sherlock didnt care about what other people thought but even he didn't want to get on his parents bad side. Sherlock made his way to the staff room to check the number of his dorm room. 221B. That was down in east wing. He made his way through the echoing corridors, lost in thought. Mycroft would be arriving within 3o minutes with all his possessions, then it was just a case of settling in before term officially started. 221B was identical to all the other dorm rooms in the school. Two beds. Two bedside tables. A wardrobe. A chest of draws. Boring. Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair, the familiar feelings of restlessness and boredom welling up inside him. Breath, he reminded himself, breath. He sat down heavily on the bed nearest the window and groaned. He imagined an animal in a cage would feel like this. He pushed the notion out of his head and tried to rid himself of emotion. Sherlock got his book out of his satchel and started to read. 10.30 Am. Two and a half hours until the morons arrived.

Chapter one.

The noise was immense. Shouting, shrieking, laughing, children running and parents nagging. John could barely hear himself think. He pushed his way through the crowd, desperately trying to find someone who could tell him where to go. John struggled past a group of particularly giggly girls towards a figure near the edge of the courtyard. "Excuse me?" he asked. "Yes, can I help?" answered a tall boy with short, light blonde hair and a head boy badge pinned to his chest. "Hi. It's ... uh ... it's my first day and I'm not sure where to go" said John in a quiet voice. "Of course. Don't worry, I'll show you around. Just hang on a sec" said the boy, digging his hand in his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. "What's your name?" he asked John as he scanned his list. "John, John Watson" John answered shyly. Well hello John. My name is Greg Lestrade and I'd be happy to show you around." Lestrade gestured for John to follow him and they both headed inside.