Reichenbach Secondary (Teenlock)

Sherlock Holmes and 221B

John’s POV

I knock on the door before entering; I don’t know why it is my room after all. Walking in I see that the room is actually very pleasant with a bunk bed against the wall, an oak wardrobe with the door slightly open and the sight of a coat peeping out and then there is two desks. Obviously one for each of us. One desk is right against the window letting the light swoop across it but then on the other side of the room is my roommate’s desk. It is coated with various types of chemicals, there is a Bunsen burner and an expensive looking microscope. I turn my attention back to the bunk bed, I am gathering that my bed is on the bottom because the top looks like it has just been slept in. I waltz over to the bed a shrug off my rucksack onto it. “Hello.” A voice greets behind me making me jump. I turn abruptly and give a shy smile to the boy in front of me. He is taller than me (but who isn’t) and has dark, curly hair ruffled on his head. His eyes are like nothing I have ever seen before; a blue-green colour with what looks like flecks of gold. He is wearing the school uniform like everyone else including blazer and all but his collar is turned up and he is not wearing the school red tie. “You must be John Watson.” He says in a monotone fashion. He is definitely a Holmes brother.

“Yes and you are?” I ask coyly causing him to smirk. “I know you are a Holmes but…not your first name.”

“Ah you’ve met Mycroft then.” He spits, “He is irritating I hope he didn’t bother you too much. But the name Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock, Mycroft such peculiar names. I nod and turn back to my bag to unpack. “Small bag.” He infers causing me to sigh. Of course I have a small bag! I have very little belongings! “Something tells me that you have brought most of what you own though.” He adds. This boy is odd. Not sure about eccentric, psychopathic freak yet but he is slightly weird. “So what brings someone like you to Reichenbach Secondary?” He asks making me snap.

“What do you mean someone like me?! A peasant?! A commoner?!” I shout but then calm myself not wanting to make another fool out of myself. “Sorry…” I mumble. I pull my clothes out of my bag and neatly fold them to place them into a chest of drawers but I cannot help but feel like I am being watched. The boy. Sherlock. Is still watching me intently making me feel uncomfortable so I squirm slightly. Sherlock notices.

“I am making you feel uncomfortable.” He states not questions, “I am sorry.” He grimaces and I roll my eyes. I put my stationary and books on my desk followed by an old picture of mummy, daddy, Harry and me. A tear escapes my eye as I remember the good old days. I look about ten years old in the picture and Harry is six. This is the last family picture before… “When did they die?” Sherlock asks me. How did he know? Apart from the crying… “Your rucksack screams army and I gather that it belonged to your father so he was in the army yes?” I nod unsure what else to do. “He died in battle.” He states coldly, “Your mother couldn’t cope and killed herself, you have never forgiven her.” I stare at Sherlock with cold eyes, psychopath definitely seeing that now! But he is right. How does he know?

“Sherlock you cannot just! Sod this…” I yell not caring if anyone else heard.

“John I sense that I may have crossed some sort of…line.” I ignore his bad attempt of an apology and storm out with my jacket and map of the school. I am going to explore to take my mind of things.