RAGEE . I am so sorry this took so long. I broke through my writers block. Hope you enjoy the new chapter. The chapters will be short because I will be trading POVs. I have a lot already being worked on for the next one. Enjoy

I don't own Sherlock

Sherlock leaned against the back of the dorm buildings. He was puffing furiously on a cigarette. They were contraband at Bakers of course but he had outside connections and they helped him clear his head. He ran his fingers through his hair. He hadn't been fazed by the words, but his pride had been hurt and for him that was a big deal. He had only been sent to the school because his brother had told his Mother about his snarky attitude at his old school, and his constant correcting of the teachers. In other words he was used to being king of the roost. His cell phone (also contraband) began to buzz lightly against his leg.

That would be Mycroft. He had been rushed to classes that morning and Mycroft promised he would have his things brought to his room. He had been told he would be living in a suite with a young man named Michael who was a rather burly shy figure by who no doubt had a collection of male swim suit magazines hidden underneath his bed. And it was doubtful it was because the young man had any interest in swimming. But living in a suite would mean he would have a room to himself.

He brought the phone to his ear exhaling the last of his cigarette as he did so before stubbing it out.

"Hello Sherlock." His brother's voice drawled softly into the phone.

"Hello Mycroft, have you brought my things?" he asked, not particularly in the mood for whatever his brother had to say, as it was usually paltry advice that he wouldn't follow anyways. Mycroft sighed from the other end of the line. He obviously knew his brother well.

"It's all been brought up to your room. Now I know you asked me to pay for you to have a room without a roommate, but I personally think a little companionship would be good for you. So I have set up for you to live in a double room with a very nice young man." Sherlock 's eyebrow twitched with annoyance and the next words he spat out were searing.

"Mycroft…you know I can't work with other people about. And this is a boy's school, which means suppressed libidos, which leads to sneaking girls back, and then I have to deal with either being asked to leave my own living quarters or god forbid, laying there listening to –"

"Sherlock, you are being ridiculous, you are merely creating scenarios, besides I would hardly put it past you to go to the headmaster with such a problem. Before you protest again, I have had your things sent up to your room the head boy is waiting at the door to show you to your quarters. I know you will do well here my brother. Please do try to make some friends." And before Sherlock would protest further there was a click and then silence.

Sherlock Holmes rarely swore, but he was tempted to use the worthless words now. Resisting the urge he stalked darkly to the entrance of the dorms where, as his brother had said, a very cheery looking blonde boy with rosy cheeks was waiting for him, chest puffed out to show off the little gold pin that labeled him as head boy.

"You must be Sherlock," he smiled and Sherlock found himself wondering if this boy had an abnormal amount of teeth. "My name is Henry, I'm the head boy here, hmm there seems to have been a little change...you were supposed to be in room 214 with Michael…but it seems there was a last minute change," he flipped through the old clipboard he held, "Now you're in room 330, this is your keyyy," he drew out the last few letters of the word as he fished around in his pocket for the item before pressing it into Sherlock's spindly fingers.

"Thanksss," Sherlock muttered coldly, mocking the way the other boy spoke as he turned and ascended the rickety metal staircase until he reached the third floor. His brother had severely worsened his already foul mood, god help whoever his roommate would be.

Turning down the corridor he reached his destination and unceremoniously thrust the key into the lock. The room was much nicer than he had expected it to be, with high ceilings, big windows, and wooden floors which was a nice change to the chipping tile that made up the floor of the rest of the dormitory building. His roommate's things were fairly neat, but a pair of boxers peeking out of a desk drawer told Sherlock that the young man was more likely advised to tidy due to his arrival.

Sherlock's belongings consisted of a valise of school uniforms, a bin of books and school supplies, an old violin, and his chemistry set, Once he had finished unpacking his side of the room looked much more naked than his roommate's which was plastered with football posters and a couple peeling posters of scantily clad women. Sitting onto his immaculately made bed Sherlock picked up the violin and began to play. It was a habit that helped him think, but he was currently playing because of his case of deep ennui.

The lock clicked, signaling the entrance of his roommate. A dusky blond figure ducked into the room dressed in a football kit. He glanced up and froze. Sherlock was in the same state of shock his generally flat expression askew in a gape of horror. They both struggled to compose themselves.

"Er…." The other boy began desperately avoiding Sherlock's eyes. "My name….um… I'm John…John Watson…I'm sorry about earlier… I had no idea that…" he trailed off his face furiously red.

"That you what?" Sherlock spat out coldly, it was a rhetorical question. He didn't wait for a reply and instead rolled over pulling a book from the bookshelf by the foot of his bed and facing away from John ignoring the pleading look in the other boy's eyes. He wasn't as angry as he lead on, but his pride still hurt and he wanted to make his new roommate feel his wrath if only for a little while.