Way Back When (Superlock) **ON HIATUS**

Chapter 2 - Way Back When We Met

John searched the halls for his room number. This took a while, seeing as the Student Housing building had five floors, and each floor had twenty rooms. He eventually found it, though, and when he did, he knocked on the door.

"Come in." a small voice answered. John pushed his camouflage backpack back up on his shoulder (it was falling off) and turned the knob. The door opened slowly with a creak, and swung open to reveal a dark-haired boy sitting on a bed pushed up against the wall to John's right, reading an unusually thick book. At the head of the bed, there was a small side table, and on it sat a pile of books and a vase containing a small bouquet of pink carnations. On the bed, the boy had put his pillow on top of the school pillow and it had a pillowcase on it with a picture of books and it said "Books are not fictional worlds. They are simply worlds that exist outside of ours." It was the same on the left side of the room, but empty and not made a home yet. At the back of the dorm, there was a large, four-panel window on the wall. To the right, the door to the bathroom and kitchen. To the left, a desk complete with a lamp and drawers. All the dorms in the school were like this one.

"Castiel." The boy said.

"'Scuse me?"

"My name, Castiel. DiAngelo."

"John Watson." John walked over to Castiel and shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you. Welcome to SLU. That's your bed and closet over there," He gestured to the left side of the room where, for the first time, John noticed a pair of sliding doors that he assumed were to the closet. "And here's your schedule. I took the liberty of grabbing it for you." Castiel held out a piece of printer paper with a list of classes, rooms, periods, and teachers.

"Printed on Matt Smith by John Hurt paper, right?"

John was confused. He cocked his head to the side a little and raised his eyebrow.

"It's eight-and-a-half...by...eleven..." He sighed. "Not a Doctor Who man, are you?"

"Na, I'm more of a Lord Of The Rings/Hobbit man myself."

"Ah, yes, J. R. R. Tolkien. At least tell me you've seen Wicked."

John's eyes flew wide open.

"Are you kidding me?! Of course I've seen Wicked. Bloody Idina Menzel. What about Les Miserables?" John threw his bags on his bed and sat down as the two boys began excitedly chatting about the countless Broadway plays they've seen and loved.

***

As Sherlock sat on his bed, unpacked and reading, he wondered when his roommate would arrive. Or if he even had a roommate. He'd be fine with that, some alone time for once. But his dreams were quickly crushed when he heard a key turning in the lock.

"It's open," he called. "You don't have to unlock it." He heard the doorknob turning and jiggling, but eventually the door swung open to reveal a light-brown-haired boy with the sharpest green eyes and freckles dotting his nose and cheekbones. He wore a worn-down leather jacket, a plaid, flannel shirt, combat boots, and an amulet in the shape of what looked like an old mask hung down from his neck. He only carried a backpack and a small duffel bag.

"Room 61?" The boy asked.

"I don't know why you're asking me. If this wasn't Room 61 you wouldn't have opened the door and asked and even if you weren't sure, you would have checked the number on the door. That is, unless you're just brain dead."

The boy scoffed. "Geez, why don't you calm down, tightass." He threw his things on the bed that wasn't occupied. "Name's Dean Winchester, not that you asked."

Not bothering to take off his shoes or coat, Dean sat on his bed, took out his camera, and began flipping through the pictures he'd taken. Sammy when he and Dean were happy, countless pictures of his beautiful hometown, Lawrence, Kansas, and...his mom. Dancing with Sam when he was only four. She was so happy. Both of them were. The picture was taken back before...his dad happened. He had seen this picture so many times before, but the pain and anger and sadness had never hit him as hard as this.

Dean tried his hardest to hold back tears, especially in front of the jerky roommate he just met. Sniffling, he took his camera and left the dorm, heading out to the courtyard to take pictures of the snow-covered trees he had seen on his way up here. When the door clicked shut, Sherlock slammed the book he was reading, shoved it under his pillow, and pulled out a tablet and earbuds. He turned on the tablet, plugged in the earbuds, opened Netflix, and began watching The Hobbit: The Desolation Of Smaug. His favorite movie in the trilogy because of the wonderful, majestic dragon, Smaug, and the Lonely Mountain filled with all that gold and treasure. A sight to be seen. Now, if only he could find someone who liked J. R. R. Tolkien as much as he did...