A Study At Bullimore

5

At break John took the time to make himself some tea in the accommodation kitchen. He had counted his steps as he walked, watched the clouds blow over the horizon, listed all the things he could smell. It had been a while since his last panic attack, and he's wanted to keep it that way. Panic attacks were for the old John, he was the new John. New John didn't have panic attacks.

He filled the kettle at the tap and put it onto boil, ran his hands through his hair and watched the others in the dorm chat, leaning against a cupboard. There were around 18 people in his dorm, which was only of those on the fourth year course, which meant that it should be relatively quite. No first year 18-year-olds to disturb them by having parties in the middle of the night.

"Hi." A man next to him said as he reached across the cupboard above John's head. John didn't feel like talking, but equally didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with his house mates. The man opened a cupboard and reached for a packet of biscuits. "I'm Philip" John smiled at him. The man had a face with similar features to a bird, sharp and slim.
"Nice to meet you, I'm John"
"Would you like me to get some mugs? If you're boiling the kettle, can you pour me a cup?" John nodded as Philip bent down to his right to open a cupboard. It was stacked full of a jumble of mugs, all stacked precariously and all equally chipped. "Would anyone like a cup of tea?" He called to the group behind him. Someone groaned.
"Not if you're making them I won't, Anderson." Replied a voice. Philip looked down sheepishly.
"Just you and I then." He mumbled, hurt.
"I guess" John replied, pouring boiling water into two chipped mugs. "Do you take sugar."
"I did, until you poured the water in." Philip remarked.
"Oh, sorry" John stirred his tea bag.
"It's fine, just. Don't worry." John walked over to the fridge and pulled out a green carton of milk, before pouring milk into his mug. He gestured to Philip, who nodded, before sloshing milk into his mug too.
"Thanks." Philip said, picking up the mug.
"No problem." John smiled, pressing the mug into his hands. He turned away from Philip to go and sit down.
"Wait, John. Before you go, can I give you some advice?" John turned back to Philip before nodding.
"Sure."
"Be careful with Sherlock. You don't know him like I do. He's dangerous. Don't get too close." John paused before answering. Dangerous.
"Okay, thank you Anderson, I'll keep it in mind." John put emphasis on the Anderson, ensuring that he knew he upset John. John felt a desire to defend his roommate for some reason, and he would do it in the most passive aggressive way possible.

It still made him feel uneasy though, the gossip around Sherlock. Anderson was not the first person to mention his 'difficulties' as it had been politely put, and John felt he would not be the last. But, Sherlock had been nice to John. He seemed eccentric and busy, that was all. John couldn't figure him out. He didn't truly understand what Mike meant when he said it was 'all' a little overwhelming for Sherlock. If Mike was right, it felt as though Sherlock regarded himself as too clever to even acknowledge the other students. But there was something else, John needed to find out if they were to be friends.

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The following seminar was chemistry, John's least favourite subject. To get into a medicine post grad, though, John needed to give himself the best shot with sceinces. He had to get a good grade in chemistry. John had refused to do physics; it made his head hurt.

The science rooms were on the left-hand side of the building, on the second floor. There were 3 of them, and John's room was in the middle of the 3. The walls were white covered with posters of the periodic table and ionic bonds, with a fume cabinet in the right-hand corner and desks in a U shape, with a large table in the middle. John in the chair closest to the window. He liked being able to look out at the grounds. On this side of the building, he could see the horses.

The room became busier as the time for the seminar to start came closer. John watched his classmates clatter into seats. They seemed to be talking to each other in warm tones that John longed for in his friends. Instead, he had Sherlock who said barely anything at all and Mike, whom's past they shared remained a mystery. The middle desks filled up first, before people took to the seats closer to the back of the room. It wasn't a particularly large class, but the seats filled up quickly. John saw Mike and went to beckon him to a seat next to his, but he sat with another man, who had shaggy blonde hair. John realised that he had isolated himself from the others which meant that in any group work, he would be forced into a group, and automatic outcast.