It took more than his strength to just be still and not attempt to run away from the car as his bags were loaded just to try to get back into the house. He was aware of how weak hearted that sounded, but you have never been in his shoes. In your eyes there would be no rational reason to be afraid, school was nothing to fear, and all the man was doing was going to uni. Hell, even his little brother, Sherlock, had gone on without so much as an inkling of fear when he left days ago. But this would be the first year he was not going to a private school, where people were refined and had hard-pressed manners and courtesy in their minds to shape them for their future: doctors, delegates, rulers... No, this man was going to uni. There are no private unis. Of course as a Holmes he was accepted without delay to the best of the best in London, but not all intelligence is fine-tuned.
He even managed to succeed in at least looking calm whilst sitting in the cab the whole way to London, playing sonatas and melodies in his head to drown out the scenarios his mind was slowly fabricating. The landscape out of the window of the vehicle was tranquil at first- the countryside rolling into a small town scenery just before they were met with a wall of rain clouds and tall structures. There was nowhere to run, besides, he was not the kind to run from a challenge at any rate. The rest was a blur- being rushed to a dorm room to settle in, where he met what would possibly be the end of the 'I need no one' philosophy. Gregory Lestrade.