Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

Sherlock sat at the very back of the lecture hall. He always did. Ever since the first day of university and probably to the very last. If he didn't get expelled before that, of course. That was really the only reason for his attendance of lessons. If he was expelled his parents might start actually paying attention to him. And god forbid that happened.

What was the teacher on about? Some bullshit about the nervous system. If anything that he hadn't known before the age of twelve was mentioned, Sherlock promised himself that he would stand up and dance. That would be far more skilled than anything the professor could produce. The old man was just another unimportant idiot among many others.

Sherlock's mind had begun to dream up various scenarios involving the professors death when a patch of white to his left caught the corner of his eye.

Within a split second he knew what it was and quickly leaned over to start scooping the white powder into his hand. Where was the bag? Fuck. It had leaked from his pocket. Gnawing at his lip, he leaned back and stared at the clock.

When the old man had finally stopped droning on and his prompt exit of the room signalled the end of the torturous lesson, Sherlock shot up and out of the hall. His books and coat were precariously held in one hand. The cocaine was clumped up in his other fist. Expertly he weaved through the seemingly half dead crowd of previously eager young students and took the stairs two at a time to his dorm. It was a good room. Except that almost daily the sounds of his fellow students and their girlfriends fucking could be heard.

Sometimes, if he was incredibly bored, Sherlock would compose a tune to the beat of the sounds. His worn out violin proved how much fucking everyone around here got up to. The professors most definitely knew. But if they expelled every student that did it they would run out of money astonishingly quickly. He rummaged around the room for a bag or something along those lines. Finally a small one was found. Upon emptying the contents of his hand into it Sherlock noticed that patches of the powder were all over the room.

There was no vacuum cleaner nor a dustpan and brush. Rubbing it into the carpet with his heel would have to do.

Letting out a long held breath, Sherlock turned on his heel and padded over to his bed. His eyes searched for somewhere to hide it and the tattered violin case peaking out from it's confinement under the bed was chosen.

A rapping at the door.

Sherlock dived for the case, managing to put the small bag inside and slam the lid in the split second before the door opened. A mousy brown head was the first thing he saw. Scrambling up like a fool, he dusted down his ink covered shirt before coming face to face with the girl. Flashing an apologetic fake smile that he had been used to putting on for so long the boy moved to shut the door. "Mary." No. That wasn't right. "Millie. E-Ellie..?" He ventured, unsure.

"Molly.."

"Hooper? Molly Hooper. Yes." A charming smile came as an apology. "You are here because..?" The boy's eyebrows shot up as he looked at Molly. She was a fairly plain girl with a button nose, bitten lips and wide child-like eyes. She would stare at him with those eyes for such periods of time that he would begin to shift uncomfortably. Maybe the girl didn't realise she was doing it.

Molly tugged at the corner of her frayed jumper, gulping. "They -uh- they.. they want you to show a new student around. Your new roommate.." The words came out of her mouth as if she were talking to a toddler. Sherlock inhaled deeply and stared at the whitewashed ceiling before nodding.

Without another word, Molly turned and headed out the door. Sherlock followed close behind her once his door was firmly shut. She led him through the never ending crowds of students and down flights of stairs to the entrance hall. "Go on. Please be civil." She said with a fearful tone before shuffling away. He gazed around for the new addition to the failure of a university he would have to share his room with and was met with a pair of blue eyes and a blond head.