Warning:3 This is Teen!Lock—as if they met in high school as roommates. It deals with some serious situations- including abuse and comfort ((well sort of)) And Lovey-dovey-smutty scenes with Holmes and Watson. Please enjoy! Reviews are always greatly appreciated. ^_^

XXXCHAPTER ONEXXX

"John Watson?" He asked, reading the paper over again as if looking for a mistake.

"Yes." Ms. Hemmings confirmed, resting her chin against the ridges of her knuckles and leaning to the side as if bored—or bracing herself for whatever argument Sherlock was going to throw at her. He had done this on several occasions and she was used to it- she wasn't going to waver on this decision. "Just try to be friends."

This was unacceptable. Not was the Principle forcing Sherlock to room with someone his Senior year—but she was suggesting they "be friends". Sherlock Holmes did not have friends. He didn't need them. Everyone else was superior to him; and Sherlock certainly didn't think having friends benefited anyone. Everyone dies- everyone leaves- and everyone's heart breaks. Why was it such a big deal to have feelings?

"I don't think this is such a good idea-." He began, halting when recognizing what seemed to be amusement on the professors face. He had already lost. With a sigh, he continued, "He's already in my room, isn't he?" nodded.

"He was very insistent on coming to this school, Holmes—he transferred from far away. I expect you to give him a warm welcome." It was a dumb thing to say- of all things Sherlock was… he certainly wasn't "warm". He turned on his heel and rolled his eyes toward the door in one synchronized motion- not even turning back before leaving—but there was one more thing he had to say.

"I suggest you stop having sex just before school—it wears you down." Sherlock grinned at the small string of curses that rang out behind him, confusing several other students. They all looked at him as he passed, looks of either uncertainty or hatred cast his way. Sherlock didn't care what others thought of him- they were all intimidated so easily.

In the few minutes it took him to wander back to his dorm, Sherlock had spotted three people who had just failed a test, two girls who had just snuck frogs from the biology lab—(judging from the proud guilt on their faces), and seven freshman who were sure to be beaten before the day was through.

'Isn't high school a joy?' Sherlock murmured to himself, opening the door to his dorm and searching for a new face. No one was in plain sight, but as Sherlock stepped inside and shut the door behind him, he called, "I'm assuming you're John Watson."

There was a small shuffle down the hallway, but it didn't sound panicked like Sherlock would have expected. "Oh, Hi!" A voice called from the far closet—a blonde student emerging from it and dropping his backpack. "How did you know I was here?"

Sherlock needed no time before answering. "The door knob was turned slightly to the left- and I always open it from the right which suggests you are right handed. I confirmed I wasn't just imagining it when I saw the ball on the dresser to the right slightly rocking back and forth—which means you had fallen and used your right hand to catch yourself only moments ago when you arrived." Ignoring the awed look on Johns face, Sherlock rolled his eyes and collapsed on his bed. "At least you bothered to lock the door again."

There was a long while of silence, where John stood in the middle of the room and examined things—perhaps trying to solve some puzzle. "So..." he laughed nervously. "that's what everyone meant. I was told-."

"You will be told lots of things about me." Sherlock cut him off bitterly. "I already know what you've been told- I have a freak power to mind-fuck people and I'm a freak of nature. Steer clear of Sherlock Holmes, correct?" He didn't need a confirmation- this was nearly word for word what every new student was told.

John nodded, giving a small half smile. "I've collected so far that a lot of people hate you." He murmured, beginning to unpack his back pack again.

"We may be roommates, but I do not intend on being your friend." And then it was silent. It wasn't a tense environment, which meant John was most likely the kind of person who was too kind to argue or too smart to care.

Before the end of the night, Sherlock had known everything he needed to about John Watson. He almost felt guilty.