Hello, my lovelies! You've all probably read a JohnLock high school AU...but have you read a MorMor high school AU? I haven't yet, but I wanted to...so I wrote one. Please read and review, babes.

Typical. The school term had begun less than fifteen minutes ago, and James Moriarty had found himself in familiar terrain-the headmaster's office. He reclined in the ladder-back chair, longing for the heated interior of the town car that had delivered him to Saint Jude's less than an hour ago. He glanced out the lead-paned window above the row of wooden chairs: the sky was stretched grey and taut as a drum skin over the rolling green countryside. Despite the decidedly pastoral scenery, rural Northern England was a harsh climate. It was still early September, but the temperature was uncomfortably low and a bitter wind swept the still-green leaves from the thin trees planted around the school.

A brochure, obviously intended for visiting parents, lay abandoned on the seat beside him. The cover depicted a massive stone edifice, hulking atop a grassy hill. Bold red font declared Saint Jude's Academy for Troubled Youth: Success for Every Child, at Any Cost. Although clearly meant to reassure worried parents that their wayward charges would receive a structured education, Jim thought that the caption seemed foreboding and grim. He picked it up, leafing quickly through the glossy pages. A series of photographs featured robust, healthy-looking teenage boys handling beakers full of colorful liquids, playing football on a grassy field, and listening with rapt attention to a teacher in a tweed coat. Thin text related the history of the school: founded in 1851, Saint Jude's Academy has long offered a structured and rigorously academic environment for troubled youth. Originally a home for wayward boys, Saint Jude's is now co-educational, with boys and girls living in separate dormitories and participating in a variety of varsity sports, including rugby, football, track and field, and swimming. The brochure went on to list a bevy of extra-curricular, none of which seemed even remotely interesting to Jim. They were safe, normal options: French Club, Film Society, Drama Club, Maths League. Things that ordinary teenagers might enjoy. He tossed the pamphlet aside with a derisive snort. As if on cue, the office door opened a few inches, and a balding man stuck his head out.

"Mr. Moriarty?"

Jim stood, straightening his navy blazer and dusting off his trousers. The plaque on the wall beside the door read Mr. McGany, Headmaster.

"That's correct, Mr. McGany."

He had learned that addressing teachers by their names before they introduced themselves could appear eager and appealing. The headmaster sighed through his nose.

"Mr. Mulligan, actually. McGany retired last year."

I wonder why, Jim thought sarcastically as a horde of shouting year eight students clattered past the school office. Mulligan ushered him inside the cluttered space and took a seat behind a massive oak desk that had been mostly given over to enormous piles of paperwork.

"Mr. Hastings, your dormitory supervisor, informed that there was an…incident…regarding your rooming situation."

Jim gave Mulligan a winning smile.

"My roommate decided to switch rooms, that's all. Apparently he would have rather roomed with the boy next door."

Mulligan bared his teeth in some semblance of a weary smile.

"There's not a chance that you might have persuaded him to switch rooms, is there, Moriarty?"

Jim shook his head earnestly.

"I only had his best interests in mind, sir."

Mulligan combed his fingers through his hair, or rather, passed a hand over his thinly-fleeced head.

"Mr. Hastings also informed me that you requested a private rooming arrangement upon your arrival."

Damn.

"At my last school, I was allowed a separate room…I prefer to study alone, without the distractions of my peers."

I hate everyone my age, the worthless little shits.

Mulligan's lips twisted into a frown.

"Well, Mr. Moriarty, I'm afraid that this isn't your last school, is it?"

Jim shook his head silently.

"And Saint Jude's isn't able to pander to the whims of every student, we have limited housing available."

It was a lost cause, Jim knew. He nodded, plastering a look of remorse and understanding across his face.

"I completely understand, sir. Sorry for wasting your time."

Mulligan nodded, looked mollified. He waved Jim out of the office, reminding him that a mandatory orientation for new students would take place in the dining hall shortly. The lanky, dark-haired teenager ducked out of the school office and headed for the dormitories, located across a grassy quad. An icy wind sliced through his thin coat, and Jim hurried towards the lighted buildings.

When Jim arrived at his dormitory room, a thin boy was standing near the bookcase, arranging a small stack of textbooks.

"Who are you?" Jim demanded. He should have known that his request for private rooming would have been denied. The boy turned, revealing a pair of wide eyes in a hollow face. He looked decidedly unwell, his hair was limp and greasy and his skin was sallow.

"I'm Robby," he said, offering a bony hand. "Robby Barrows."

Jim didn't take his hand. The last thing he needed was some weepy roommate emoting while he was trying to study. Jim crossed the room and lay down on his bed. Robby added more books to the pile.

"So, are you new this term?"

Jim didn't answer for a moment. Revealing that he was, indeed, a new student might make him an easy target. Then again, he didn't want to be pestered with questions by someone who thought Jim would know his way around the school.

"Yeah."

His roommate peered at the bookcase, running a finger over the spines of Jim's voluminous tomes. He turned, looking impressed.

"Wow, are you taking Advanced Chemistry?"

Jim nodded.

"And Advanced Biology? And Calculus?"

Jim shrugged and examined a cuticle, trying to appear bored. Trying to appear that he wasn't pleased that someone had noticed his accomplishments.

"That's cool," Robby said, his voice a shade quieter. "I'm in the lowest level for everything."

Jim stifled a cruel chuckle. He needn't worry about Robby-the boy was clearly a simpleton.

"Well, at least there's no competition," Jim offered. Robby cast him a half-bitter glance.

"And no pompous arses."

There was a silent like you implied somewhere, Jim was sure, but he felt the gleeful sting of someone else's cruel words like a needle of adrenaline. He wanted to fire back a stinging barb, to parry with another silver tongue. But Robby was simple, stupid, soft. Not worth it. Not worth breaking character for. For now, he was Jim, the aloof honors student. Untouchable, distant, cold. Not far from the truth, but far enough. Jim glanced at himself in the mirror hanging on the outside of the wardrobe: pale face, shaggy hair, dark gaze. Ordinary, invisible. But even the unseen have secrets, he thought. And oh, did he have secrets.

Lame ending, I know. Please review. They are like birdseed and I am a hungry pigeon.