A Study In Him (Teenlock)

The Detective and the Doctor

19-year-old John Watson has always wanted to be a doctor. Since the day he knew what it was, he wanted to be one. And finally, he's got his chance.

He left his family's quaint home in the country to head to Central London, where Sir Arthur University is. There, he can start on his course to being a doctor!

The cab rolled up to the big entry doors of the school. Kids were scattered everywhere in the yard, talking to friends. John had no friends here. This may be difficult.

He thanked the cabbie and carried his luggage to the bottom of the front steps. With great effort, he dragged his huge bags up them and went inside. He was aware of the awkward stares he got, but ignored them.

"Hello, my name is John Watson," he said politely as he entered the office. The reception lady sighed and handed him a slip of paper, "Room 221. It's not too hard to find."

"O-Okay...Thanks!" He said awkwardly as he left. The future doctor took the lift up to the 2nd floor, counting off the rooms.

"18, 19, 20, 21!"

Slowly, he creaked open the door. Not surprisingly, he found his roommate sitting on the bottom bunk, buried in a science book.

"Uh, hello," John began awkwardly.

The other boy looked up. His piercing green eyes could have jabbed a hole through John's skull, and his ebony curls were absolutely perfect.

He was gorgeous.

His Cupid's-bow lips parted to quietly say, "Hi."

He then slipped lower down and continued reading.

"I'm...John. John Watson."

"Sherlock Holmes," the boy murmured.

Not very sociable this one.

John crossed the room and looked around. There were two drawers-- Obviously one for each of them, and a bathroom. Not much else, except for a blue shag carpet that looked dirtier than a pig's pen.

"Which...Drawer's mine?" John hated to disturb Sherlock's reading, but he had to ask.

"Far right."

"Thanks," John unloaded his luggage into the drawer, putting a family photo on top.

He shoved his empty suitcase under the drawer and went to see his bed. It was neat, untouched, and looked quite comfy.

He had nothing to do for the next hour, so he decided to check out his school map and class list, then go check out the grounds.

He quickly sifted through the papers and left the room, throwing a quick "Bye" over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him.

He scurried down the front steps and looked around the grounds. Many groups stood around chatting, and he approached one group that looked not-so-bad.

"Hi...My name's John Watson. I'm...New here."

The tallest one smiled at him, "Mycroft Holmes."

"Holmes? Ah! I'm rooming with your...Brother? His name's Sherlock."

"Ah. Yes, my younger brother. Poor you."

What's that supposed to mean?

"I'm Greg Lestrade. Nice to meet you, John!" A boy about his height with grayish-brown hair reached over to shake hands.

"Sally Donovan," a tan girl with wild hair just stared back at him coldly.

"I'm Phillip. Anderson, Phillip Anderson," a dopey-looking boy with straight brown hair copied Sally's stance.

"And I'm Molly Hooper," a shy girl with long peanut-brown hair said quietly.

"Nice to meet you all," John said warmly.

"Oh, dear," Mycroft stiffened, staring behind John.

The young blonde boy turned to see three menacing-looking people, two boys and one girl, heading towards them.

"Bullies?"

"Pretty much."

"Knew it."

They stopped in front of John. The one in front wasn't much taller than him, and his uniform was newly ironed. He clearly used product in his hair, and his eyes were big and somewhat inset, making him look like a serial killer or something.

"Well," his voice was somewhat deep, but not really, "Look what the cat dragged in."

The other boy was closest behind him, and he was taller, and he wore his uniform without the v-neck sweater and left the tie strung over his shoulders. John didn't know why, but he reminded him of a sniper, or gunman of some sort, "More street junk."

The last one was a girl. She looked a bit gothic, with deep red lipstick and curly dark brown hair, but also kind, in a sly way. She said nothing, as if she wanted to help him but couldn't bring herself to.

"What's your name then?" The head short one shoved his shoulder.

"John."

"John," the bully spat out, disgusted, "Are you wearing that as a joke, or are you serious?"

"What, this?" John motioned to his beige jumper, "What's wrong with this?"

The bully made a gagging noise and pointed to his mouth.

"Jim, that is ENOUGH," a thick baritone voice sounded behind the group. John turned to see Sherlock. He was taller than John expected, and he wore the school uniform-- Grey pants, white blouse, blue-and-grey striped tie, and a grey knit pullover.

Molly was oggling him, obviously unaware John had noticed.

"Oh, here we go again," Jim, the head bully, smoothed his hair.

"Just leave him alone."

"What is he, your BOYFRIEND?" Jim scoffed in disgust.

"NO, just...Nobody deserves to be treated that way!"

"Oh, just kill yourself," Jim sighed, "It's so much less effort."

Sherlock tightened his lips together and was silent.

"Ha, you're cute. Let's go."

Jim led his possey away.

"Wow, thanks Sherlock. That was really brave of you!"

"Don't talk to me," Sherlock turned coldly and stormed away.

John was taken aback by his sudden rudeness.

Nonetheless, he followed him back to the dorm. He was going to be a doctor, and if something's wrong, he's going to fix it.