The Secret of the Holmes

The Innocent One

"You should talk to him," she prodded, poking John's shoulder and glancing at the tall man a few tables away.

"I will later, he's going to be my roomy, after all," John replied, finishing the bite of food resting on his fork and he was officially done with his food, shoveling his left over trash in the garbage can right beside the table, as there was one at every table.

"Well, that's why you should talk to him now, so you can get to know each other and it won't be so awkward later," she suggested, poking John's shoulder again and using her best pout to make him do it.

"Will you stop poking me if I do?" he asked and she rolled her eyes, but smiled and nodded.

"Go on," she shooed and he grumbled, getting up and making his way as slowly as he could to the man that was to be his roomy later that night and for the rest of the year. The front office had introduced them on a first name basis, but they still knew nothing about each other.

Except for the fact that he was very attractive, even John could see that. His high cheekbones and pale skin was only enhanced by the mop of messy but still ravishing raven black and, somehow mixed in there was brown, curls. None stuck up, of course, but they were cut short, making them look messy but shiny and soft to the touch. John wanted to touch it. But he didn't as he sat by the man in question.

He was wearing a suit that was all black except for the button down, which was snow white and the black and white contrast only made him look even more pale, but still beautiful. His books were at his side, on the bench and John hoped they wouldn't topple over as he spoke, "Hey, Sherlock," he gave his best smile, sliding only one leg under the table on the bench, sitting as one would sit on a seesaw.

"I said-"

"Yes, now shut up, John," Sherlock's dark but creamy voice lashed out and John even flinched a little as the man's pale fingers were almost in John's personal space, standing in front of his lips and shushing him. "Okay," Sherlock mumbled so low John could barely hear it. Then he watched as those distracted eyes narrowed a bit, then travelled from wherever and focused back onto the blond man sitting beside him.

Why didn't anyone tell John that those eyes were so confusing a colour? Earlier in the office they were a dark blue, but now they're a pale green with a twinge of blue around the iris? Sigh, the world may never know, but they were still strikingly wonderful.

"Now," he turned slightly as his hands fell from the steepled position about his chin to the table and folded on top of one another, "what did you want?" he asked, almost sounding annoyed. John was annoying? Damn…

"M-My sister," John stuttered, but he gained back his speech abilities after he told himself once more that this man was one of a kind and surely no one would judge him for almost drooling? But he wasn't gay! He tightened his jaw, then it loosened as he continued, "My sister wanted me to talk to you. Said it would be lass awkward if we got to know each other before going back to the dorms," he shrugged and Sherlock gave him a glare of what seemed to be of a kind that one wears to study.

"Why is it awkward in the first place? It's not like we'll be sharing the bed," he snorted and John rolled his eyes. But on the inside, that wasn't thought of, so he fought the urge to blush.

"Well, no, but. I was actually sorta hoping we could be friends," he smiled up at the man with what he hoped was a piercing and holding gaze.

Sherlock quirked a brow, "Friends?" he spat, "I don't have friends," and he looked back to the crowd once more before grabbing his things and standing. "Well, I'll see you tonight in the dorms. Perhaps," he nodded and was off across the grass and in the direction of the library as John was left to wonder what was up with that man. He surely does catch one's attention, doesn't he?

"Well, that was kinda mean, wasn't it?" she asked.

"Jesus!" John jumped and Harry grinned. "Don't do that," John warned and she just shrugged, her long blond hair falling from her shoulders to her waist as she brushed it from her face and took the seat beside John again. "You know, just because we're going to uni together doesn't mean you have to tell me what to do and who to talk to, this isn't high school anymore," John complained, as he had in high school, and Harry just tsked.

"See, that's where you're wrong, college kids are almost exactly like high schoolers," she smiled and John's brows came together.

"Then I feel sorry for them," John nodded, got up and walked off in the same direction as the Holmes boy. He didn't care that he had just left his sister there, staring at him like an idiot with her jaw dropped. Now he wanted to know more about Sherlock. He had met Sherlock before, but that was only to know his name, no other words were said. But now that he was getting mysterious, John wanted to know more.

He didn't know what he'd find, or who he might find hidden under the mask of that man, but he didn't really care. And he knew it was a bit selfish, but along with wanting a friend, he wanted a mystery. Plus, it would make it interesting, being the friend of someone who everyone wants to know about, but only you really know. And you don't have to give anyone any details. That would make him grin so hard.

And he hadn't realized he was actually grinning, until he walked into the library where there was a man who was walking by and he just gave John the weirdest look. Then John knew he was grinning like a madman, so he quit.

He simply walked up the short flight of stairs to the room up said stairs with a row of computers on both sides of a long table in the middle of bookshelves. Then walking through all of those, you get to even more books. Of course, first are the things for education, the ones gathered around the table. Then there's the fiction. But obviously, Sherlock wasn't in fiction. As a matter of fact, he wasn't really in the books. He was sitting at a small round table beside the bookshelves and computers, reading something out of an already chosen book.

His curls just looked all the more irresistible to touch as he was slightly bent over and they shielded his eyes from view from here. But once John sat down beside him again, he could see them. Those beautiful blue and now a bit darkened eyes. "I happened to notice you don't have your books with you, are they in the dorm room?" Sherlock suddenly asked, looking to John and giving a tight almost smile.

"Er, yeah. Why?" John turned and this time, he had both feet under the table, although he was still sitting on the chair backwards, leaning into it.

"Just curious," Sherlock admitted and went back to the book. The words were printed in a small sort of font, but they still managed to be readable and it seemed to also be something of science.

"A scientist, then?" John queries and Sherlock shot him a sideways glance. "That's what you're studying for?"

"You really are set in your ways, aren't you?" The bigger question was, why hadn't Sherlock just walked away again? He was staying, but he had almost no idea why. Perhaps it was just the sheer thought of having someone decent in his life. Someone to be his.. friend. Perhaps…

Nonetheless, he was talking to John now, and there was no going back as the conversation started up. Starting with Sherlock wanting to invent the job of being a consulting detective, and John revealed his dreams as well. wanting to be a doctor in the army and Sherlock was a bit hurt that John wouldn't be here after he graduated, but Sherlock can't control people's actions, though sometimes he wished he could. It'd make it easier to… No, not here.. Stop thinking about it, Sherlock..

Then it went to Sherlock's reason for avoiding people, or only the half of it, anyway. And it was his deductions. John had already told Sherlock everything he needed to know, so he couldn't demonstrate it on John. But he did it to other people. Like, that girl over there. The one reaching for the book and she finally got it down, fondling it a bit in her hands as Sherlock went rambling on.

"She's new here as well, but she's been here about a week. She's not stressed at all. Oh, just wait until the quarter finals. She's a straight A student, always working hard, you can see all that in the way she carries herself. She means business. She's not very well off, though and you can tell that from her clothes. That shirt is about three years old, still in good shape, but still old, as the strings are starting to poke out and fray at the edges. Then her skirt and her shoes, the skirt is her best, been hemmed up twice and her shoes are obviously stressed from wear, but she takes care of them. So, that concludes that she got a scholarship, and that's how she's even her. As I said before, she's not well off.

"Then there's her posture, she had sex last night, not the best, she thinks could have done better. She was slightly slouching, but then she noticed and knows it's bad for her back, that says she's tired, but not tuckered out, so she had sex, but it could have been better. Plus, there're other things that are a bit inappropriate that I could say to prove that… But anyway, the reason she was lenient last night with the break in her studies is because she's confident in herself, sure she'll pass her classes in a breeze.

"Can't blame her, though, the classes are too easy. So see, you were right, she does look smart…" Sherlock concluded and John gaped. He didn't even remember that he had remarked on how smart she looked. He just stared… mouth open and everything, just stared from the girl to the man sitting by his side.

"I suppose you're going to tell me that was-"

"Brilliant!" John beamed.

"What?" Sherlock sneered in disbelief and John nodded.

"You heard me, that was amazing," he gasped.

Sherlock looked around a bit before saying, "You think so?" He was actually really confused, he expected John to get up and never speak to him again. Usually people hate that their personal space had been 'invaded' or they were afraid Sherlock might deduce them too, as he would sometimes give demonstrations as he had just done with John, instead of deducing them themselves.

"Yes, it was extraordinary, it was quite.. extraordinary," he nudged Sherlock's shoulder with his own. "You're a genius," he complimented, smiling in that way that made Sherlock feel all warm inside. What the hell was that about? He didn't know, but he wished he did, so he could make it stop.

"That's not what people normally say," Sherlock says, literally swallowing down those weird feelings and turning back to his book as he tried to rearrange the words, but they were blurred as he couldn't focus on the little black swirling things anymore. John's compliments made him feel… appreciated, alongside the warmness… ugh.

"What do people normally say?" John asked.

"'Piss off'," and they didn't know why, but they both chuckled at that…

o0o

John returned to the dorm room first, obviously. But he had a tagalong and she wasn't exactly the best of company. "Okay, Sarah, good night," he peeled her from his upper arm and she huffed.

"Fine, good night, John," she said sadly, giving his cheek a kiss, was he supposed to blush?, and walking off across the field again to the other building that was the girls' dorms. And John rolled his eyes as her hips swayed a bit more. She can be nice, but really? Urgh…

John sagged a little as he sighed, glad to be rid of her and just be al- Wait, where's Sherlock? He asked himself as he opened the door and there was no sign of his new roomy. Not until he had finally relaxed and had stripped down to his pants to go and lie down for some sleep, did the curly haired man show himself.

In that time, it had started raining outside, quite heavily so. Which Sherlock was very glad for, but he was soaked through now, and he quickly stripped it all as John turned away from the scene literally unfolding before his now turned away eyes. His face getting red as he realized that this man obviously had no shame. "Do you do that to every person you room with?" John queried and Sherlock shrugged, which John couldn't see.

"You're in your pants, it's not much of a difference," he reasoned and John was all flustered as he tried to answer, but Sherlock dismissed it, rushing to the bathroom and the tiny shower that would have to do. Sherlock hated how small it was, it was almost like solitary confinement, not that he would know what that's like. But it really isn't meant to be stood in for hours on end, anyway. Just a quick few minutes that were rushed and that was it.

Which was what happened and John was already in bed by the time Sherlock walked back out, having mercy on the man in the bed and wrapping his towel around his waist. "Clean up your mess, Sherlock," John mumbled sleepily and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Mother," he exaggerated, throwing his wet suit in the hamper at the foot of his bed and then he found dry pants in his still unpacked suitcase, slipped them on, and climbed into bed himself. Even though he probably won't sleep, he could try, right? Just because he was… different, doesn't mean he didn't need sleep.

And somehow, Sherlock actually found himself tired. And he fell asleep, listening to his roomy's breathing evening out (it was for some reason comforting) as well as they both fell into dreamless slumber…


John woke first to the alarm clock by his side on the bedside table and he pressed his fingers to the button to switch the infernal device off and he rose to see Sherlock still asleep, rolled over onto his side and his shoulder was slightly rising in his breaths under the duvet he had pulled up to his curls. It was surprisingly cute, but John couldn't have that.

John smirked, untangling himself from the covers and shuffling to the counter, grabbing his phone and setting an alarm to go off in five minutes. Then he balanced it about Sherlock's gently rising and softly falling shoulder, and John then went about his morning routine, as usual.

Getting dressed, making coffee, brushing his teeth. And while he had the tooth brush moving from his mouth, he heard the alarm and then Sherlock screaming. It was just too funny and luckily he had to spit anyway as he laughed at the idiot.

"What the hell is this stupid-! John!" the man complained, stomping over dramatically and throwing the phone at John's shoulder when he reached the small bathroom and luckily John caught it before it hit the floor. He pushed it into his pocket and took a good look at the grumbling man.

He looked quite disheveled, his curls sticking out every which way, and he was slouching and his feet scraped at the tile instead of him taking proper steps. But once they had both finished their morning routines, Sherlock looked awake, alive and ready for whatever the day held. Interesting how he can look like a disturbed bear when he wakes up, but an hour later and you'd never know he had been so angry and a bit grumpy. John smiled at that.

"What are you smiling at?" Sherlock asked, slowly inching away from the smiling blond man.

"You," John admitted, not dropping the curve of his lips.

"Me," Sherlock said blankly and John nodded.

"You're definitely weird," John nodded, "but it's okay," he assured.

Sherlock took a small step back to John's side while they walked, "Okay," he stared. "Well, we're not exactly on the best of terms right now," he scowled and John snickered.

"And why would that be?" he had to ask, just because he wanted to see Sherlock get all flustered in the frustration of what John did to him this morning.

"Because you put that thing on my shoulder!" he pointed to John's pocket, which made it look like something else, and people gave dirt looks, "I almost threw it at the wall, you're lucky!" he scolded, wiggling his finger and John just laughed at how many people gawked at how wrong that sounded and looked. Now people will definitely think the worst of that, but oh well. This was funny.

"Oh, come on, grumpy-pants. It was funny to hear you scream bloody murder at a vibrating phone," John bumped his shoulder in jest and Sherlock glared, narrowing his gaze onto John.

"I don't like you anymore," he said, pouting.

"And you did in the first place?" John quirked a brow.

"Well, I was starting to, but not after that little stunt," he crossed his arms over his chest and John just shook his head in mock disbelief at how childish he was acting over a wake-up call. Yeah, it was cruel, but it was pretty damn funny to hear that scream and that was the point. Not the scream, the prank… Oh, never mind.

"You scold me as if I'm a child, and then you pout at me like a toddler," John chuckled and Sherlock sent him the coldest glare. John wasn't at all intimidated, as he knew Sherlock wouldn't do anything to him. And, he just really wouldn't be intimidated. Sherlock's too cute for that. Jeez, where did that come from? Where do any of those comments come from?... Sigh…

Sherlock straightened, "It's time to go to class, John," he said, departing and John just smiled, waving a bit and Sherlock scoffed, walking away with his nose slightly in the air and John loved that he made Sherlock so angry. It was the funniest mood he'd seen out of the two Sherlock displayed so far. There was surprise, and now being grumpy/angry. John liked angry better, it was so much funnier.

Although, he supposed he did cause both of said emotions, so he was bound to have a preferred one. When John had met Sherlock, he thought he was a heartless and cold dick. And he is, but not if you're John. Well, slightly less if you're John. He was still being reserved, and was treating John like someone he knew and who was not exactly a friend, but not just random face and name, either.

But John wasn't ignored as acquaintances are, so does that make him a friend? Or at least, getting there? Hopefully, John was lonely. His sister wasn't much help, as she ignored him most times. And he got attention from girls, but it was always about something else, never just simple friendship. But Sherlock was a man, so friendship was all they could ever have, or so John thought. So it could only develop more and more.

John was happy. He had more or less made a friend, and said friend was an arse, but he had potential to be a good friend…


Sherlock hated having to go to classes. They were boring and usually never helped in the material, they just wasted good studying and or experimenting daylight hours with teachers going on and on about something that was supposed to be interesting. But the voice they would spread across the classroom held a bored tone, which made everyone else bored and tired, Sherlock might add to that thought.

He sighed, just getting through the door before it closed after another student had opened it to walk in. They automatically close, and sometimes it's annoying. But he made it through, hearing the click of the door shut, then open again as someone else walked through and past Sherlock, up to their friends. Distracting things. They probably talk to you during class and distract you even more. Not worth it. Although, John seemed… different to that. Somehow..

But Sherlock just ignored all the people and their friends, and.. others and travelled to the lower rows, sitting in the end seat, not bothering with notes in this class. They were never needed, as Sherlock could probably teach the class himself. He would ask, too, but that would really make him looks ass-ish, then wouldn't it?

Oh, did she have to wear her hair up today? It's usually down, so Sherlock didn't even have the opportunity to stare directly at the pulse he could hear pulsing in that pretty little neck of hers. But he ignored it, swallowing his urges and not looking at her as much as possible when class started.

It was simple, and easy. But Sherlock had had practice in ignoring his instincts, so it being easy to ignore didn't faze him, or strike him as odd. What made him wonder more about it was the fact that she put her hair up now? She had kept it down all this time, why-

Ah, oh, ew... Now he needs that image scrubbed from his brain. But that was easy enough when he had an empty notebook in hand, and he began to absent mindedly doodle. It actually took his mind off of a lot. He used to do it in primary school as well. Teachers would yell at him and he didn't care. It was calming. Wasted notebook pages, but was calming.

Maybe it was the fact that he had no idea what he was doing, just random lines and swirls and such. Making his imagination work, yet rest at the same time. But once he had finished, basically when class had finished, he had found himself seeing something in the swirls. Something more like a face than anything. But he didn't know of who. It seemed to be a male, short hair… Oh, really?! That's just great…

He then decided to rip that page out, and threw it away when he walked out the door, and instantly he bumped into, "John?" Sherlock tilted his head in confusion as the blond was going to just scurry by, ignoring everyone and everything, trying to get to his next destination. But then he stopped.

"Oh, Sherlock. I have a class in the library next, a sort of tech class," he explained and Sherlock nodded, understanding and patted the shorter man on the shoulder awkwardly before walking off. John shook his head and wondered what the hell… But, it was Sherlock. He had yet to find out.

So he brushed it off as he practically ran for his next class. He wanted a seat by the door, so he could just get the hell out of there when the class ends. He loved messing around with computers, but the mentor for that class was a fucking idiot. As in, he usually had no fucking idea what he was doing. There was once when the student schooled him, it was kinda funny.

He just stood there, looking at the screen as if it was an alien and he had no idea what to do with it. Though, he was old, and knew barely anything of the newer technology. Which was why John was so glad to be getting a TA, or a teacher's assistant in the class today alongside the mentor. He hoped it was someone with a fucking brain, too.

Wouldn't do too well to have someone who couldn't tell what was what in a line of code, or how to make said line of code. And both were fairly easy, so maybe they didn't have to be a genius but- Whoa, wow…. John gawked when he saw the woman that walked in beside the old and grey mentor.

She had short blond hair, but her bangs obviously bugged her sometimes, as they were pinned back with one bobby pin, and then her eyes. That lovely shade of green that scaled down her nose and to her luscious red lips adorned in lipstick that wasn't bright, but it was definitely noticeable. Then her curves. Hm, John could have died, as well as every other man (and the few women who swung that way) in that library then and there.

She had a loose collared green top that hugged her all the way down from her breasts to her hips where the skirt took care of the rest. It was knee length, but even still, she had black tights underneath the scarlet skirt that somehow matched the dark green. Everything about her was different, yet it matched. And John scrambled to get his thoughts together enough to log onto the computer in front of him.

She thought it was funny that so many people became flustered and blushed when she walked in. Yet they regained themselves quickly enough to start class when the mentor confirmed it had taken a start. But John jumped when she was suddenly behind him, "Hi there," she smiled over his shoulder.

"Jesus! Can we not do that again, please?" he chuckled and she giggled lightly, nodding once.

"Name's not Jesus, though," she teased. "Mary." She gave a little wave, "Hi. And who might you be?" she asked, speaking to him as if he was a child.

"John," he nodded, frowning. "And I'm not a kid, so don't give me that tone." And she grinned.

"Hi, John," she said flatly before she patted his shoulder and he smiled halfly at her before she had done the same thing she had to John to a few other students she found interesting, then the class started…

o0o

"Still mad at me?" John elbowed Sherlock as he sat down beside the tall brunette at the same table as they had sat and chatted up a storm yesterday.

"A bit," Sherlock admitted. "She's your type, then," Sherlock observed, nodding at the woman as John was switching from looking to Sherlock to eyeing the woman across the walk, talking to a few others.

John scoffed, "Yeah, cause you know my type." Sherlock gave him a look. "Oh yes, I forgot, you're Sherlock bloody Holmes."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sherlock wrinkled his nose and his brows followed in insulted confusion.

"I don't know and that's the point," John nodded, still staring at that woman.

"If she interests you so much, go talk to her. It's not like you have anything better to do, and she is just standing there," Sherlock suggested.

"Oh, but I'm talking to you," he claimed and Sherlock shrugged.

"Do what you want," he said, his tone suggesting nothing more than just that. And John stayed.

"Well, I want to talk to you."

"Stubborn, aren't you?" Sherlock teased.

"Oh yeah," John admitted, grinning. "So, apparently you know my type, what's yours?" he asked.

"I don't have one," he tried.

"Okay," John decided he would play along, thinking he knew what Sherlock meant. "So, you've got a girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend? No, not really my area," he dismissed with a wave of his hand and John then realized.

"Oh, right. Do you have a boyfriend, which is fine by the way-"

"I know it's fine," he said, giving a curious glance to John.

"So you've got a boyfriend, then?"

"No."

"So, unattached. Like me. Right," he cleared his throat and stared back at the crowd of people, "good."

"John, I hope you should know, I consider myself married to my work and although I'm flattered by your interest-"

"No, I wasn't," his brows furrowed in slight disgust, "no! I'm just saying, it's fine," he assured and Sherlock nodded, "it's all fine."

"Good," he still gave John a curious glance and Sherlock swore John was lying a bit as he avoided eye contact with Sherlock and his voice was fading out as he spoke. But he ignored it, getting up and saying, "I'll see you tonight back at the dorms. Goodbye, John," he nodded and John shrugged.

John then decided he would get up and try talking to Mary after all. Kill some time, you know? Besides, the best part isn't until after Sherlock gets back into the dorm room, anyway…

o0o

John was just sitting on his bed, cross legged, the lamp on over a book he had in his lap and Sherlock bursts through the door and John swear he sees blood dripping. "Sherlock," he quickly scrambles out from under the book and rushed to Sherlock. "Sherlock, what happened?" he flipped on the light in the small room.

And he gawked at how much crimson was shining as it has spilled over Sherlock's dark attire. Gladly, his suit was all black today, and none of it got on the coat. He loved that coat, apparently. He was yelling at John not to put it on the floor, but on the bed instead. And John just threw it there as he went back to the man covered in blood and looking as though he had been attacked or something.

"Sherlock, answer me. What happened?" and when Sherlock hung his head in shame, John had just noticed where all the blood was coming from. And it wasn't Sherlock. It wasn't coming from anywhere on Sherlock, it had dripped, more like sprayed, from someone else onto him. It came from someone else….

But how? Who? Why? And that was all answered when Sherlock took John's fingers and bared his teeth, pressing a pearly white protruded fang to his forefinger's pad. Blood was drawn in the smallest little drop and Sherlock licked it away gently. Sherlock felt he could trust John with this information, as the man hardly believed it himself, even though Sherlock was living proof of what he couldn't believe.

"Sherlock?..."


Not as good as future chapters, I promise. But I just needed to get this out before I do into detail about Sherlock's story... Hehe...