An Exception - Johnlock highschool au

Chapter One

Dragging his rugged suitcase across the mossy cobbled courtyard, John sighed in exasperation. The blonde boy had just arrived at Lupton Cross academy, an all boys boarding school in which his parents had decided to send him to without his consent. John looked up at the tall stone-brick fortress which would be his home for the next 5 years. He had to admit that even though he wasn't fond of it, the school was quite impressive. Reaching into his trouser pocket, he removed a small crumpled, piece of paper . On it were the digits 221B.

After a long walk up several flights of stairs, he reached his dorm room. "Finally," the tired boy said. Much to John's surprise, the door was half open. He could hear faint fizzes and bubbles from behind it. Curiously, John peered through the opening. There, towering over a collection test tubes and microscopes, was a tall, lanky teenage boy. His hair was dark and spiraled into soft curls which he has combed to the side giving him a sophisticated look. Unlike John's own, his features where sharp and thin, yet he still had a certain softness to him. The boy was wearing a dark purple shirt, smart trousers and a pair of black suit shoes making John feel quite under dressed even though he obviously shouldn't do. This mysterious tall stranger was brilliant.

'Are you quite done?' the brooding boy asked. 'I don't care much for loiterers.'

This took John by surprise, he hadn't expected to have been seen. 'Oh, um, sorry.' John said nervously, scratching the back of his head. He pushed the door open, revealing an array of science experiments, books and paper, flooding every surface. John looked astonished by the mere number of items that could be squashed into such a pokey room. The mysterious boy on the other hand looked confused that the human hadn't gone away and instead invaded his palace. 'Excuse me, but why are you here?' he asked puzzled. John passed him letter. As he read, the boys sharp brows furrowed. He seemed angered. 'Unbelievable.' he muttered, then marched out the room, stomping his feet, mumbling the name 'Mycroft' a few times distastefully and slamming the door on the way out.

Moments later, the door flung open again, showing the rather irate boy flailing his arms at John with a new older boy accompanying him. That must be Mycroft John guessed. This one was more calm and more well spoken as he said, 'Brother dear, I have told you many a time that you may have to have another roommate if we run out of space. There is nothing I can do, Sherlock.' So his name was Sherlock, John thought. Sherlock grunted and started pacing around. John felt a tap on this shoulder and turned quickly. It was Mycroft. 'Good luck,' he whispered into John's ear, and briskly took his leave, closing the door so not to slam it.

Everything was silent other than the sound of Sherlock scribbling away with a fountain pen. John was still stood in the centre of the room, confused what to do just in case he did something to upset his new peculiar room mate. Sherlock, looking up from his page stared at John for a second and said 'I'm guessing you have questions.' John, again surprised at the sudden conversation fumbled his words slightly, 'well, um, just where the bed is thanks.' Now looking back down, Sherlock pointed towards a bed on the left side of the room with crumpled pieces of paper sprinkled over the top. John swiped them into the bin and began unpacking.

'Afghanistan or Iraq?' Sherlock announced. Flustered by the sudden question, John blurted out 'What?'

'I said,' Sherlock repeated,smiling, 'Afghanistan or Iraq?'.

John stared at Sherlock with a look of utter confusion on his face. How did he know about his father's job in the military? Sherlock piercing John with a glare of satisfaction, arose from his chair and began pacing back and forth.

'Your stance,' the proud boy said. 'Obviously, by the way you're stood you have been conditioned to walk with great posture, that alone did not solidify my result though. The way you tied away my clutter and straightened the duvet as soon as you were told this will be you space, shows that your upbringing was strict and-'

Sherlock was cut off by the expression on John's face. He was beaming from ear to ear. 'What are you smiling for?' Sherlock snapped. John, obviously embarrassed by his transparency, fumbled while his cheeks became a flushed crimson. 'Sorry, I just thought you were so brilliant being able to figure out so much about me,' he mumbled. Sherlock stared at John for a few seconds, making John feel awkward with the sudden dramatic eye contact. 'I need to get back to my work,' he said sharply. He turned around and wandered to his side of the room, covering his mouth with his large hand, his cheeks burning and grinning profusely. 'I'm brilliant' he thought.