Reichenbach Secondary (Teenlock)

Exploring

John’s POV

I waltz along the dusty, old corridors of Reichenbach secondary passing hundreds of pupils as I do so. I am starting to feel quite hungry, I wonder where the dining room is. I pull out my map of the school and work out my bearings. Okay so I am in the lobby of block B and dining room is just…aha. I pick up my speed as I rush towards the main building where there should be a dining room and fingers crossed food. Well it is dinner time so I would expect that there is. I approach the door to the dining room and the smell of hot meat and gravy soothes my nose. It smells delightful…ouch! Someone has just collided with me, I regain my balance and face a boy who must be slightly older than me and is a little chubby. “Oh I am so sorry!” He exclaims looking flustered.

“No it is fine.” I assure still transfixed onto the meaty smell.

“Mike Stamford.” The boy holds his hand out to me which I shake happily.

“John Watson.” I reply.

“Ah yes the new boy! I have just dropped off your football shirt at your room, I was surprised that you were not there.” He rambles on. “Is Sherlock already doing your head in?” He asks and I nod which is followed by a chuckle. “Do you want to eat with us?” He questions while pushing open the door. He points over at a table which has Greg, Sally, Anderson and this other girl sitting opposite Greg. Each table has six chairs pulled up to it so surely it would be okay if I joined.

“Okay sure.” I reply following Mike to grab some food. On offer there is salad, pasta or a roast dinner, I think it is beef. I clasp onto a plate which contains meat, potatoes, Yorkshire pudding and vegetables and stroll towards the table. “Hi.” I mumble.

“Ah John hi!” Greg greets with a cheesy grin. “Please take a seat.” He signals to the chair next to him and diagonal to the girl whose name I do not know. Mike sits opposite me. “John meet Philip Anderson, Sally Donovan and Molly Hooper.” I smile a greeting to everyone, “You have obviously met Mikey.”

“Don’t call me that.” Mike replies sternly and I blatantly nod. “Sherlock is already doing John’s head in.”

“Yep.” I reply, “I was only with the guy for like five minutes and he got on my nerves. He just told me my life story right in front of me. Weirdo.”

“Yeh aha…” Greg chuckles uncomfortably so I send him a questioning look, “Mycroft hey!” Oh no. Well done John! Once again you have made a complete tit out of yourself. I begin to shovel down my meal not wanting to be in this situation for much longer.

\~.~.~.~.~/

I wander back into my dormitory where Sherlock is lying on his bed with his hand pressed together in a steeple-like position. Is he praying? I hope I am not interrupting… “Erm hi. I hope I am not interrupting anything…” I try to sound sincere but for some reason my tone is lacking genuineness. Moments pass of nothing. Is he asleep?

“Erm what?” A voice fills my ears and I see Sherlock’s eyes are wide open. “Oh, no John it is fine.” He removes his hands from this peculiar position and sits up abruptly. “Let’s hear it then!” He suddenly exclaims and I make some sort of confused sound, “The insults, and the crude language, that I am a freak.” I chuckle but then realises he is being serious. Do people insult him a lot?

“No.” I mutter, “Just one thing. How did you know about my parents?” I gulp and he sends me a wicked smile.

“The picture.” He states, “The way you held it with care showed that it is very close to your heart. It is an old family photograph but something tells me that it is the most recent one you have but it was taken four…no five years ago.” I nod for him to continue, “Then there is the rucksack, it is a classic army bag that all troops are given. It is old, bedraggled looks like it is very used by both you and your father. Your father would only give you his bag if it was no more use to him. So dead. Likely.” I let a tear escape, “You aspire to be like him. You are fit, obviously work out a lot because you are considering joining the army. There is a couple of leaflets stuffed at the top of your bag about the army.”

“Wow.” Is all that could escape my lips. “And my mother?”

“Shot in the dark. A good one though. The majority of mothers when their son is going to a boarding school they pack for them to make sure that they have everything they will need. You have quite obviously packed that bag yourself and then back to the photograph.” He picks up the frame quite roughly causing me to take a sharp intake of breath, “There is a mark over the side of the picture with your mother in, possible made by your thumb. When you hold the picture you pick it up like this which shows that you would rather not look at her.” I cannot take anymore, he is so right but it is like I don’t want him to be.

“Okay stop!” I shout and he does so obediently. He puts down the picture delicately back into its previous spot and turns to face me. “That was amazing…”