John opened the door slowly, not wanting to disturb his roommate if he was in there. Nobody was there though. He surveyed the room. There were two beds pushed into the corners, with a large window in between them, and each student had their own desk and wardrobe. A door on the left side of the room led to what was probably the bathroom. The floor on the right side of the room was littered with suitcases, and the desk was already covered in books and papers. Well, his roommate had obviously been up here already. Probably some guy that had been going here for years and had his own group of friends and no time to be friends with the new kid, let alone meet him. Sighing, he walked over to his bed and set his suitcase down, looking out the window. The other students were running around the vast lawn outside the boarding house. They had abandoned the stifling uniform coats, and enjoyed the warm late autumn sun. Someone had started a rugby game, another had started a football game. Others littered the lawn in small, close knit groups, lying under the shade of the huge oak trees and laughing together. Great. Everyone seemed to have their own group of friends. He decided to go out on the lawn and join in one of the football games. He hadn't played for a while, but he was pretty good, and maybe he could make a few friends in the process.
After he introduced himself, they began a new game. He scored a couple goals, and the other guys seemed to like him. They'd opened up their group warmly, and for that he was grateful. Things were going well until one of the guys, Greg, accidentally kicked to ball past the makeshift goal posts and into a small grove of trees. All at once, the game stopped and they all groaned loudly. John gave Greg a questioning look, but before he could ask what was wrong, one of the others, a smug boy they called Anderson, spoke up.
"I think it's time for the newbie to meet the freak!", Anderson shouted, grinning wickedly.
The rest of the group groaned even louder, and gave John apologizing looks. Why were they looking at him like that? He turned towards the trees and noticed, for the first time, a lone figure under on of the trees closet to the field. The ball had rolled close to him, right at his feet, but he didn't seem to notice. Unlike all of the other students, he had yet to shed his uniform coat, and even seemed to be wearing another coat on top of it. It was bloody boiling outside! He was also alone, again unlike all of the other students. In fact, everyone seemed to avoid him, not going anywhere remotely near him. Anderson had referred to him as freak. Calling him a freak seemed a little harsh though, he couldn't be that bad.
"Why do you call him freak? What does he do?", John asked.
"He's just a freak. Does this freaky thing where he tells you your whole life story just by looking at you. Nobody likes him, not even the teachers. He's some sort of genius, always corrects them.", Anderson replied smugly.
"Come on guys, he's not THAT bad...", Greg replied uncertainly, shifting from foot to foot.
Turning around to address John, Anderson said, "Don't listen to Greg here. The freak is a freak, leave it at that. But your'e gonna have to meet him eventually, so sooner rather than later, am I right?".
Anderson took John by the shoulders, turned him around, and gave him a light shove towards the trees where the boy they called "freak" was sitting. Slowly and uncertainly, John walked across the lawn, drawing the eyes of near-by boys. When he over into the trees, he quickly picked up the ball, but lingered in front of the boy. He hadn't so much as looked up and acknowledged John's existence. He really did look like a strange bloke though. Not only was he still wearing his uniform jacket, but he had added another heavy looking black coat on top of it. It was a wonder he wasn't dying of heatstroke! Unruly, curly raven hair nearly brushed the upturned collar of his trench coat, much longer than most of the other boys' hair. Clearing his throat slightly, he was about to say hello when the other boy's head snapped up and John was immediately stunned silent. The boy's face seemed unnaturally pale, and was dominated by ridiculously high cheekbones. His eyes were huge and a very pale, greenish-blue flecked with gray, and ringed with dark circles, indicative of many sleepless nights, and their sharpness and clarity seemed to contradict the purple shadows under them. His perfectly shaped cupid bow lips were parted slight...Wait. Why was he thinking about some blokes lips? Mentally shaking himself, John prepared to speak, but was interrupted by a surprisingly deep and droll voice.
"Your name is John Watson. You transferred here from another school, evident from your behavior when you arrived on the grounds and the fact that you kept checking your schedule and room assignment. You gravitated towards the football game, meaning you enjoy sports, for you could just as easily have joined in one of the other groups scattered around the lawn. Maybe you played league soccer back home, maybe you only played with your older brother, maybe you will decide to join the school team in an attempt to make the friends you so desperately crave. You're one of the school's few scholarship students, obvious from the state of your shoes. You were worried about making friends because you obviously lack the money they are so very accustomed to. You do, however, seem like a decent person, because you decided to attempt to say hello to me, despite the fact that they most certainly informed you of my "freakishness". That's enough about you, I think. As for me, my name is Sherlock Holmes. I am a freak. I have no friends, and nobody gives a damn what I think. So why don't you save yourself the trouble and avoid committing social suicide by trying to talk to me.", Sherlock said, immediately collecting his books and stalking off to find a new place to hide from his moronic peers, leaving a flabbergasted John in his wake.