John dragged his suitcase through the entry of room 221B. He was struck, at first, by the untidiness of his new room. Already, books and papers were strewn over the joint desk. Jars of unrecognizable substances (that couldn't be food) were left open as well. One bed with a great lump in the sheets was left unmade, suitcases were unpacked, and John was pretty sure there was a skull on the shelf.
As John pulled his possessions into the least cluttered half of the room, the lump of sheets stirred. Then, like a spring, raised the curly-haired boy. It was midday yet he wore a night robe, and his head spun around the room until he settled his gaze upon John.
"I think I'm your new roommate, John Watson."
"You don't think. Clearly you know by now that we're to be roommates. Now tell me then, what did they say about me?" he asked.
"What?"
"When you stared at me from across the field. What'd they say? 'Freak' seems to be one of Anderson's particular favorites, although I do also get 'psychopath' or even 'know-it-all' . The later I don't mind really; it's quite easy to be a know-it-all in the company of know-it-nothings." After his ramblings, the boy turned toward John and smiled. "Sherlock Holmes."
"John Watson," he replied, "and don't worry, I don't hold the opinions of Anderson in too high a regard."
"Wise choice. You know, when Anderson tried out, he was up against another keeper. A better one, in fact. Then Anderson's parents paid the bloke off to play for a different school."
"Really?" said John as he unpacked his heavy textbooks onto the shelf.
"The spoiled blokes at this school have everything handed to them. But I suppose you have some potential."
"What do you mean?"
"You're a scholarship student, clearly. Part athletic, part academic—you pay half of what the rest of us pay. Still, your single… dad, I'm guessing… can barely afford tuition. You're just lucky to be here. Am I close?"
"How'd you know that?"
"Your suitcase is a tattered hand-me-down. The label with your name on it is covering an older one. It's masculine colors so it must have been a father's or a brother's. Of course, you wouldn't have your own suitcase because this is your first private school. So why switch schools this late in the game? Hopes of getting recruited. You've still got the imprints of shin guards faintly on you shins, so football. The academic part was obvious. All of your textbooks are for advanced courses. So there you go: poor, athletic, studious."
John blinked. "That was… fantastic ."
An expression of surprise took over the other boy's features. "That not what people usually say."
"What do they usually say then?"
Sherlock shrugged. "Bugger off, you arrogant freak."
John laughed and, after a moment, Sherlock joined in.
"But Sherlock, how'd you know my dad's a single parent?"
He rolled his eyes as though it were apparent. "Your suitcase looks like it was packed by a six year old. A mother would have her son's clothes ironed and folded for his first year away from home."
"You're…" John began, but closed his mouth before saying a word.
"Get on with it then," said Sherlock. Something behind his eyes seemed to harden, and it occurred to John that he may be bracing himself for an insult.
"I was going to say brilliant. You're brilliant."
The boy smirked but remained silent.
"Erm… what's with this?" asked John, examining the skull that was staring back at him.
"A friend of mine," said Sherlock. "Speaking aloud helps me think. The skulls a good listener."
"Am I to assume that role while I'm around?" joked John.
The boy curled back up into an odd little ball and pulled the sheet over his head, but not before sighing, "I may like that."
John didn't hear from him again in some time.
…
"I can't believe you ended up with him," panted Anderson as they rounded their fifth lap.
"I've heard boys literally transfer schools to get rid of him," added Gary.
Their slightly labored breathing and heavy footsteps mingled in the air above the field. "He doesn't seem that bad," said John. "He's strange… and has no sense of courtesy, but he alright."
"You're too nice, Watson," said Garry.
"You still have to get him to the party!"
"Okay, okay," said John, thinking of his roommate who had spent most their first day together buried in his 'experiment' or playing his violin. "I'll try."
Hey everyone. PLEASE PLEASE review. I write a lot fast that way. Also, I have another teenlock story finished called "Classroom 221b" if you're interested.
