Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, but I do own this particular world and this particular idea.
A/N: I heard from a fan that school AUs tend to crash and burn in this fandom. I'm prepared to take that challenge.
Chapter 1
Date: June 15th. 8:11 am.
The following is a recording of the past two years of the life of Medical Student John Watson. Details will be written down to the best legitimacy and skill possible, no withholding evidence. The following events are true and factual to the best knowledge of all individuals involved, with the possible exception of Mr. Holmes. The validity of the happenings is documented in audio and written format through interviews, emails, and letters from the characters involved. Any attempt to discredit will be taken as a serious allegation and properly contested.
This is the Ecstasy of Mr. Holmes. Begin assessment.
For John Watson, the day began like most in his pre-med studies. He woke up from a dream about a disease infecting everyone in a hospital while he ran around trying to find help with no success, screaming out names he forgot as soon as he left the dreams. He went in the bathroom and washed his face, brushed his teeth, and used the bathroom. After that, he stepped into the shower for a nice wake-up call. The steam made the mirror fog up, and he wiped a streak free for him to use afterward. Choosing an outfit and brushing his hair came next. Then he spent a good six minutes sizing himself up in the mirror, deciding if he could take himself seriously this morning before he tried unleashing himself on the rest of the world.
Following his bathroom habit, John grabbed a bagel from the fridge and toasted it until it was hot. He smeared a layer of cream cheese on either side and then smashed them together to eat like a sandwich while he got ready to go. His bag was packed from the night before, as it always was, and he slung it over his shoulder without hesitation. He kicked on his shoes, locked his front door, and was off to the bus stop before he could even finish his breakfast. It felt so routine that it was almost… boring.
The bus ride was average, twenty or so tired and cranky bodies sitting too close together on their morning commute. John did his best to ignore everyone and not draw attention to himself at the same time. He cast his gaze, instead, out the window to watch the world pass by. It didn't take long for the bus to pass by an all too familiar spot, one that John tended to give too much attention to. It was just an apartment building, much like John's, with dark bricks and a classic-style sign. As the bus came upon it, the main door opened and out stepped a pair of men, both with dark hair. One had curls while the other's hair was slicked back. Odd. Usually the one with curls was alone. They seemed to be bickering.
Despite the fight, John took comfort in this one other piece of his everyday complacency. It was like clockwork, the dark haired man stepping out into the world right when John's bus passed by. It was almost as if he knew, but even if he did, it wasn't like he was doing it just to give John a sense of stability… another trustworthy, dull piece of every repeat morning. Yet despite the redundancy, John found he looked forward to this part. It was probably because he had no control over this. One day would come when the man didn't come out on time or came too early, and John wouldn't see him. While he apologized to a woman who'd kicked him in the ankle as she passed, John wondered what he would do if that day ever came. Would he even be able to concentrate on the rest of his day?
"Summer's almost up," Mike said, slurping some coffee and staring off at a group of young women on the other side of the food court.
"Yep," John answered, skewering his teriyaki chicken. Mike glanced at him and then back to the ladies.
"You find a new roommate yet?" he asked and his eyes darted off somewhere into the crowds.
"Nope. But even if I had, there's no guarantee that the extra room hasn't been claimed already. I guess I'll just have to put up with whoever they give me," John said, getting a cheek-full of rice.
"Yeah, but it'd all be better if you could just pick someone. I'd put in a good word for him at the office, if you'd find someone. I may not be in charge, but I do help organize the new arrivals from time to time." Mike took another large drink from his coffee and set it gently on the table.
"Trust me, Mike. No one wants to be roommates voluntarily with a pre-med student… especially one with a habit like mine. I'm not going to find anyone on my own, so you all might as well just pick one for me already." John groaned and mercilessly stabbed the Styrofoam plate his food used to inhabit.
Mike shrugged. "Alright. We're doing the final sweep on Friday, so you still got two days to find someone you like, if you like."
John snorted and shook his head, but occupied his mouth with his soda so he wouldn't make any upsetting comments. Lunch was his only down time in the summer. Usually he and Mike talked about sports or news or women. Why he was suddenly interested in John's ability to find a roommate was curious, but John didn't push it. He had bigger tests to worry about for tomorrow. A roommate was just an afterthought.
"Afternoon, Doctor Watson," a cherry flavored voice greeted as John slipped through an 'authorized personnel only' door. John shook his head and smiled.
"I'm not a doctor yet, Molly," he reminded and set his jacket over the back of his assigned chair.
"But you are the lead pre-med student in the clinic," Molly said. "You can tell what kind of help someone needs almost before they say it!"
"I'm not that good. It's just medical observations, and this is just a school affiliated clinic. Now who do we have in today?" John asked, shifting the subject away from himself. Molly was always a bit too perky for him, a bit too flirty. They were working at a school affiliated walk-in clinic with people that had issues ranging from chemical burns from science experiments to alcoholism to drug addiction to slightly-too-serious-for-home-care paper cuts. Molly struck John as one of those women who was attracted to the broken types, the ones who needed help. Good God, was John glad he wasn't one of those… in male form, of course.
"Well there's a Sara in the back corner waiting to see someone about a rather nasty burn on her hand she claims she got while cooking. She's only been here for about three minutes… and everyone else has been seen," Molly said, checking the sign-in sheet.
"Very good. Thank you. I'll take care of Sara. You handle anyone new who comes in the door." John slipped on a white coat, standard dress for the clinic, and stepped out into the waiting room to see his first 'patient.'
Sara saw him coming and stood to greet him, with her uninjured hand, but just before their hands could touch the door swung open and two men entered loudly.
"You have no right," one with curly dark hair was growling and tugging against the grip of the taller, older man with slicked back hair.
"You're record for attending school is deplorable," the taller one said.
"Rubbish. I was just heading there," the curly one said.
"Yes, and they now hold class on the couch of your apartment in the off season, do they?" the tall one asked. "I don't quite think so, Sherlock. Not this time. You're going to get help. Now." And while his voice stayed level, it held the threat. The curly one let out a whine of a noise and was dragged toward the front desk where Molly watched with shocked eyes.
John pressed his lips together and tried to look away, but he couldn't. It was the man who stepped out of his apartment like clockwork whenever the bus passed. Sherlock, was it? What an intriguing name, John thought. It was almost as intriguing as how he managed to step outside right on schedule every day. John had never seen him so close up before. He was taller than John had previously expected, his hair just a tad shorter. Maybe he'd just gotten it trimmed. He was dressed in fine clothes, like he was on his way to a job interview, but they were rumbled from sleep or a struggle. John suspected the struggle was with this older man.
The two were not getting on very well at all. The tall one was trying to tell Molly that Sherlock needed to see someone about going into rehab, but Sherlock kept interrupting with a bored expression and a helpful 'he's an idiot. Don't listen to anything he says' or an 'I don't need to be here.' When the taller man turned in annoyance to Sherlock, the curly haired man just gave him a blank look.
"Sherlock, stop being so stubborn. You need help!" he said, raising his voice for the first time since their arrival. Sherlock bristled.
"I'm not an addict!" he yelled back.
"Excuse me," John spoke up, stepping up and pushing the two apart. The taller one looked a bit put off, but Sherlock just looked bored again. "I'm sorry, but we really don't allow fighting to take place in the building."
"Good. We'll just leave then," Sherlock grunted, giving John a quick overview with his eyes.
"Sherlock," the taller man scolded. John put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and looked at the taller man.
"Also, I apologize, but we can't give help to someone who doesn't want it. We can't hold him or administer support without the consent of the person… unless they're a danger to themselves or others," John explained.
Sherlock was staring right at him now, but his eyes would flicker to where John's hand rested on his shoulder. John's mind said it was a hint that Sherlock didn't like the contact, but he kept his hand there a moment longer than necessary anyway. A piece of his heart raced from the momentary contact. This was the mysterious bus man, and here he was in John's place of volunteering. After his hand connected with his side again, he noticed Sherlock's eyes stuck to him regardless and the other man's eyes flickering between the two of them and Molly.
"But he is a danger to himself," the man insisted and somehow sounded like a bureaucrat. "He's a drug addict. He's ruining his health and his schooling."
"Oh shut up, Mycroft," Sherlock snapped, but his eyes barely glanced away from John.
"Sorry, but if he's not suicidal then he's not technically classified as a danger to himself," John said, having to agree with Sherlock internally. Sherlock didn't show any outward signs of being a drug addict. He wasn't overly pale or sick. He wasn't shaking or seeming nervous. Beyond that, John would prefer not to think his only interesting piece of routine was a drug addict.
"This is ridiculous. What kind of rehab clinic doesn't do rehab?" the man known as Mycroft grumbled. He flexed his hand as though he were used to holding something, perhaps a cane, but had forgotten it somewhere or no longer used it. "Fine. Sherlock, if you want to waste your life being high, be that way for now. However, I will keep an eye on you, and I will bring the police into matters if I must."
"Oh go back to starting wars, Mycroft," Sherlock groaned out with a hint of distaste. "And don't worry, Mummy. I'm going to class."
"Shut up, Sherlock. You're only a genius in your head." And Mycroft was out the door again. Sherlock hesitated only a moment or two and then clapped John on the shoulder. He rubbed his hands together and made for the door as well.
"Thank you. You've all been a big help. I hope to never see this place again. Have a nice day," he said. He turned around, gave a wink to John, and slipped out the door.
Silence pervaded the room for several seconds in which the tiny clock in the room could actually be heard ticking. Finally John pulled himself from his shock, cleared his throat, and turned to Sara again. Molly jumped and turned back to the computer screen, flushing with embarrassment.
"I apologize for that. How can I help you?" John asked. Sara began a tale of discovering a love for cooking, which would have all been good and interesting if John's mind hadn't been on the curly haired man who apparently attended the same school as him and had somehow slipped a twenty into his chest pocket as thanks without anyone noticing.
If there are any pre-meds students reading: I'm going to do my best to keep the story legit and also smooth. If you have any insight into say scheduling, work load, etc, that would be most helpful. Thank you! Reviews and Opinions are love!