Coping

Chapter 5

John

Bags packed and coat on, I hugged my grandmother one last time. With a kiss on the cheek, she spoke. "Oh John. I am... SO proud of you. I'm going to miss you so much. Promise to write?"

I pulled away from her embrace. "Yeah, I promise, Gran."

A more serious look crossed her face. "Are you sure you packed everything you needed?"

"Yeah, yeah, I've got it," I said, not annoyed, but itching to get out to Harry's car.

"Uniform?"

"Yes."

"Books?"

"Yes, Gran."

"Shirts? Shoes? Pants?"

"Y- oh, God, Gran. Okay, I have to go. Harry's honking." Gran gave me another cheek kiss and yelled, 'I love you!' As I walked out the door. "Love you too, Gran! See you at Christmas!" I called, giving a short wave.

"Hey, big boy!" Said Harry once I opened up the car door. I gave her a look.

"Please, don't call me 'Big Boy'," Harry laughed as I heaved my bags into the trunk of the old Ford Anglia.

The ride was pretty long, but Harry kept up a good chatter. "Excited, John?" She had asked.

"Yes. I really am, Harry," I had said. She grinned and glanced at me from the driver's seat.

"Any idea who you're rooming with?" She asked.

"Uh, yeah, actually. They assigned me a room early, with a bloke named Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh?" She asked. "Why did you get it early? Are you so horrible that they had to make sure you had a roommate that couldn't back out?" I nudged her jokingly. "Oi, watch it. I'm driving here," she laughed.

"Yeah, if you can even call it driving." This time, she lightly punched me. "No, he's blind. I volunteered to be with him. I'm supposed to help him get around. Apparently he's really smart. He's in all the advanced classes," Harry nodded in approval.

The car pulled up outside a large stone building. There were windows all over it, most of them open, with their lights off, and the curtains pulled far to each side. "I believe this is your dorm building, Johnny." I ignored her pet name.

"Thanks a bunch, Harry," I said to her as she pulled me into a tight hug and then retrieved my bags.

"No problem." She let me go and pushed my bags in my direction. "You'll have to tell me all about this Sherlock guy. I want to know all about your experience with a blind genius. Oh man, what if he thinks you're a girl! Maybe he'll fall in love with you!" I pushed her again.

"Oh, sod off, Harry." She laughed and got in the car. "Take are of Gran, okay?" She nodded, and waved through the window.

"'Course! Hey, I'll see you at Christmas!" She called. The blue Anglia drove off, breaking the speed limit, no doubt.

"BYE!" I yelled to the car, receding into the distance.

The building looked fairly new, and the steps were spotless. It was rather posh. Inside, I set down my bags on the clean, cold floor and pulled out my semester information. My dorm was room 221. Alright.

I dragged my suitcases up the stairs, with a surprising amount of difficulty. If I was going to be on the football team this year, I had to shape up. I must have had a few too many cakes over the summer.

I panted once I got to the top (yeah, I really needed to get a work out or five in before tryouts). There was a long string of rooms. The hallway was about ten feet wide, all tile. Room 215, 217, 219... Aha, room 221. A stream of beautiful, yet melancholy notes streamed through the door. Timidly, I knocked. The playing ceased abruptly, and the door opened. "John Hamish Watson," said a tall, sun-glasses-clad boy with messy, curly, dark hair.