The sociopathic genius. (Discontinued.)

In the company of the slow.

                                                      Chapter 2.

John opened his eyes and looked at his watch. 7.30 AM. He had just enough time to get ready and have a decent sized breakfast before lessons started. He looked across the room to say good morning to Sherlock, but Sherlock wasn't there. It seemed as though Sherlock had already gone downstairs. John showered then got dressed, nearly tripping over a book about human decomposition on his way to the wardrobe. Finally he had made it downstairs an entered the dinner hall. It was extremely loud. There were students everywhere, laughing, talking, running around, fighting, flirting, eating, shouting and throwing things around. It was bedlam. Sherlock had a whole table to himself. He was sat with his feet on top of the table and his head buried in a book, this time he appeared to be reading The complete works of Charles Dickens. John walked over to him. "Good morning John" said Sherlock just as John opened his mouth to speak. "Morning" John replied, sitting down next to Sherlock and reaching for the cornflakes. John had just started eating when a hand slapped down hard on the table, making him jump. He looked up to find a boy with dark oily hair and a rather slimy facial expression standing in front of him. "Hello. Are you freaks new roommate?" the boy asked, in a surprisingly accusative tone. "What?" gasped John, choking on his cereal.

"You. Your freaks new roommate aren't you?"

"Who's freak?"

The boy pointed at Sherlock. At first glance it would seem as though Sherlock was oblivious to what was being said about him. But then John looked closer into Sherlock's face. He looked murderous. "Do you know what he did last year when I was sharing a room with him?" the boy continued "He set the chest of draws on fire!" "What a load of rubbish" John snapped. "No it's true! He was messing around with his stupid science equipment and he set the bloody thing on fire, you can still see the burn marks on the carpet. I'm Anderson by the way" he added. Anderson held out his hand but John didn't take it. There was an uncomfortable silence. "So Anderson, you've been seeing Donovan again" said Sherlock. He stood up, snapping his book shut as he did so. "Oh no. Don't start doing that thing again!" Anderson cried angrily. Sherlock smirked. "Sherlock, how do you know that? Who's Donovan?" John asked curiously. "Sally Donovan is a girl in our year. The rest is just a disappointingly simple" said Sherlock. "Now you just shut up" said Anderson, his colour rising.

"I don't know what you're trying to imply but ... "

"Oh I'm not implying anything, nothing at all" Sherlock replied smugly "I'm just saying that Sally came to visit you, I suppose to ask if she could borrow your deodorant. I distinctly recall that she was wearing men s deodorant this morning, I noticed it as she walked past me. It happens to be the exact same type you are wearing. Eww! It seems as though yours has just vaporised. Anyway, I guess Sally was so grateful that she wanted to do you a favour in return. I assume she scrubbed your bedroom floor going by the state of her knees." Anderson glared at Sherlock and stormed off. "That was great" said John, giggling. "Thanks" Sherlock muttered as he sat back down. He flashed John a small smile. "So" said John, settling back down to his cornflakes "you've shared a room with Anderson." "Obviously" returned Sherlock, sipping his coffee. "Have you had many roommates?" John asked. "All the boys in our year" answered Sherlock. "How come things never worked out with any of them then?", was John's next query. "Exactly how many questions do you have?!" snapped Sherlock, his temper rising. "Sorry" muttered John. He went back to eating and Sherlock went back to reading, thus seeing out the remainder of the meal in silence. Just then the bell rang for the start of lessons. John left the table without giving Sherlock a backwards glance. Luckily his first lesson was English which happened to be in one of the few classrooms that he had went past with Lestrade yesterday. At least he wouldn't be getting lost straight away. John was just about to enter the classroom, his hands shaking out of nerves, when someone crashed into him. He looked around wildly but whoever it was had vanished. However, as John picked up his fallen school bag he noticed a small piece of paper in his hand that hadn't been there a couple of seconds before. As he sat down at his desk 5 minutes later, John unfolded the piece of paper to find a note. It was written in very unusual handwriting, the size and pressure changing dramatically from one letter to the next.