"This roommate of your's, messy lad, isn't 'e?" Delia inquired, shuffling into the door then rounding the small couch into the walk way that separated the two bunks, the kind that was bedded at the top with a ladder that brought you down into a desk area underneath. Identical in structure, entirely different in maintenance.

John's was cleaned even for a standard new comer: comforter tucked tight, desk cleared ready and at his use. And all of three maybe five steps his counterpart, the sheets and blankets nearly balled in the corner of the bed. The ladder slightly caving on it's steps, desk showing signs of being... burnt? While papers crumpled and not scattered the floor nearly as a border for this boy's space.

"I suppose so." He shrugged small shoulders, eyes rounding about the room. "Can't pick and choose the roommate."

"Do you know who he is?" His mother seemed at no loss while Harry and his father were at loss of words. He pretended that was why they didn't speak, anyway.

"No but I will soon enough." Both curious and antsy, his voice wavered while in thought. Not that it'd gone noticed. He changed topics. "I guess... now good byes are an order."

There were nods and a sigh of relief he ignored.

"Don't forget to call, alright?" She was smiling through the cracks in her quieting voice. Smiling as if tears didn't threaten to dissolve the very facade she'd been wearing this past week. He wanted to feel what she felt but that was just outside of his grasp, the intensity, at least, of missing someone already. Wordlessly giving into a hug. "Yes, mum, every other day." He mumbled; try to, anyway.

"Don't be boring," Harry added flatly, tugging ringlets of auburn into a tight pony tail. That was about the only thing about her, now, that fell short of boyish. With her tattered jersey that hung loose above khaki men's shorts. "Horrid habit of your's."

John didn't agree. Or rather didn't want to agree. He didn't cause grief or disturbance, played within the lines drawn out for him, made no waves, that shouldn't make him boring... But as he thought of not a story he could share that was exciting, he gave a side glance to Harry before he'd come to his father.

Not a word but a hand shake before the man turned on a hard heel... And that was that. They left.

So suddenly he was left to his own devices, to making something of a home in half of a room far from his true home, far from many things, that he'd oddly felt abandoned. Though, he supposed for second, private academies had such an affect on many.

This thought was quickly derailed and came to a crashing hault as just beyond the closed door, there was an argument. One so trying to be discreet, the other out right not giving a damn.

"What do you mean 'roommate'?"

"I mean, there is another boy who is due anytime so for arrival and will be sharing this room."

"Why my room? Can't he bunk with Lestrade for God's sake?"

At least he's a pleasant fellow, John's thoughts snapped sarcastically. Not even in the door and this other boy, who he's assuming is meant to be living here, had already set the tone for introduction.

"Mr. Holmes, this is not up for discussion. If this is such a problem I will gladly call your brother."

This was met with a bout of deep laughter before rolling into a string of audible words. "You can call him, I highly doubt he'll be available but no really, give it your best go."

"Or you can be escorted off campus and relieved of admission here." Deathly quiet.

The speed in which John had been unpacking his newly acquired uniforms into the drawers next to his desk and slowed drastically waiting for a response. It didn't come, only the door clicked and swung open.

"Oh," The voice of the older of the two said, disappointed maybe even embarrassed. "He's already here." Again that fragile silence sat, waiting to be broken. "John Watson is it?" A nod. "I'm the admissions adviser. We were suppose to meet in the office but I'm glad you found your way," It was almost as if he was avoiding the obvious but he couldn't. Not with them analyzing each other. "This is your roommate," Holmes gave to a heavy sigh at the mere word. "Sherlock Holmes. Holmes, Watson."

Not five minutes and I can tell you are the worst cock I'll ever meet. John smiled falsely showing clearly on his features, "not a good actor" might as well be written onto his forehead. And in the mind of Holmes that wasn't the only thing .

"Nice to meet you, Sherlock."

"Hardly."


Alright, chapter one.

It's been quite sometime since I wrote anything like this, sorry I'm a tad rusty. Still, feel free to comment! I'm all about what you all have to say.

- B.D