A/N: Hello again!
Yes, this chapter was a total frenzy because i got motivated and wrote it all tonight!
The events are still pretty boring, but i hope we'll be getting to the more exciting bits fairly soon. I do want to start writing John Watson more. Do you think it's too early? No? I have no idea.
I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and thank you for reading ^^ ( by the way do you like my little doctor who cameo going on?)
you are all gorgeous muffins!
~red owl feathers.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mrs. Hudson opened the door to the entrance to the school grounds and everything behind the pastel-yellow building they were in.
Mycroft had said his reluctant goodbye to his brother and had gone to the car. The headmaster simply retrieved to his office to have another look at Sherlock's paperwork.
And Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson headed down to the boys' dorm.
They had anything and everything to talk about. Mrs. Hudson went on asking questions about how he was doing, if he was still as brilliant as ever and if he was eating enough. She was behaving much like a second mother, which Sherlock had noticed was a natural behavior for her when they had first met.
So now they were standing in front of a path covered in pebbles. On their left, there was grass.
On their right, there was also grass.
The path looked long and it was lined with perfectly trimmed trees. They were walking and talking in the same time and by the time Sherlock wondered if he should tell Mrs. Hudson about John Watson they had reached a somewhat of a crossroad. The big pebble covered path was cut perpendicularly by a path that looked pretty much the same, only it was smaller. On a tree on the right side of the crossroad a piece of wood read "boys' dormitories". On an according tree on the left side with an according piece of wood was made clear that the left smaller path lead to the girls' dormitories.
So they turned right.
When Sherlock looked around he saw a lawn with some people enjoying the warm weather and the sunshine. Some of them were sitting on picnic blankets, others simply on their jackets. Most of them had a book or headphones or company. A couple of students looked in his direction, but most of them looked friendly enough.
A couple of minutes later, when the path was starting to seem infinite, they reached a two-story building that presumably had the shape of a triangle because the front was consisted of two walls that met in the middle. There were two big wooden doors on both walls and Mrs. Hudson lead the boy through one of them.
The air inside was at least five degrees cooler than outside. But in summer, that is always a good thing. Mrs. Hudson's shoes clacked against the floor. Sherlock looked at his feet and saw black and white tiles arranged in a chessboard sort of way. Right before him there was a big staircase and corridors leading to the rooms on the ground floor.
"Sherlock, dear, the common room is right over here." She motioned to the right of the hall. Sherlock followed her and saw two big slide doors made out of glass. Inside there were a lot of armchairs and sofas and shelves with magazines and books. There was even a television there. A fireplace that was of no use in this time of the year stood surrounded by armchairs in a corner.
Apart from that, there were the regular "usual common room boy activity things" like a tabletop football, some board games and a small table tennis. A couple of boys were sitting on a carpet in front of the TV and were playing a videogame someone had brought.
Mrs. Hudson's voice snapped Sherlock out of his observations and back to reality. "Let's see which room you are in." She hummed to herself while pulling out a big binder from God knows where.
"Hmm. Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holme- aha! There you are. Room 221 corridor B." She looked up, smiling.
"I presume that means upstairs." Sherlock looked up the big staircase a few meters away.
"You're absolutely right. Come on." She started walking up the stairs.
And then Sherlock noticed that he had been so stupid and missed something so mind blindingly obvious. Something was off and he knew what. The boy was about to physically slap himself.
"Mrs. Hudson. My bags. Where are they?" He saw the look of realization on her face and for a second it almost looked like she actually got slapped in the face.
"Oh. Well. They must be in the waiting room."
The waiting room was where people waited to speak to the headmaster. As if that was absolutely necessary.
Sherlock let out a huff. "I suppose you wouldn't go and get them for me?"
Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "I'm the secretary dear, not your housekeeper."
"A man can hope." They walked to the door and Sherlock held it open for the woman.
When they were outside again and had reached the spot where the two alleyways met, Mrs. Hudson turned right instead of continuing to the left with Sherlock.
"Aren't you returning to the yellow building?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows.
"No, no, I have to go check on a spot near the rugby pitch. If those Year 10s are smoking under the birches again, I swear to the lord I will make them eat their cigarettes." She looked eager to actually do that. Sometimes Sherlock was right on scared of what she was capable of. That woman was full of surprises.
"Before I forget, here is the key to your room, dear." She slid a cold metal thing in his palm and smiled one last time before rushing down the alley. Sherlock took a look at the small silver thing that hung from the keychain that read 221B.
The bags were much heavier than he had expected them to be. After all there were mostly clothes in one of them. But in the other two there was a laptop, many books, (as though the school didn't have a library) and his experiments that Sherlock had insisted on moving with him. Well, at least the ones that you could move. Or the ones that were along the lines of legal.
Let's just say that if anybody found a pig's head in his room, they would most likely be disturbed. To say the least.
Sherlock had a hard time going up the stairs. He was absolutely loving the fact that he wasn't a female, because his hair was getting in the way anyways and he could never imagine what a struggle it would be to have, say, waist long hair.
When he reached the second floor, he started looking for his corridor. He was basically in the back of the building now, so corridor B was first. There, you could find the rooms from 200 up. He quickly got the numeration system and found his room.
The boy dropped everything he was holding except his key, with which he unlocked the door. The bags that now lay on the floor were carelessly kicked in by Sherlock's feet.
The room was nice. It had a big window that faced the back garden, behind the building. It smelled nice. On the side there was a small, black door, probably a bathroom. There was a bunk bed and Sherlock decided he would sleep on the top bunk right away. The wallpaper was a black and white one with some sort of ornaments on it.
What really caught his attention though, was the smiley.
Next to the beds, there was a spray-painted yellow smiley face. Sherlock looked at the paint and noted it was a rare type. Probably a doing of his supposed-to-be roommate.
He definitely seemed like an interesting subject.
'I probably should start unpacking then. Dull.'
He flopped onto an armchair near the desk. There was an interesting case going on. Mycroft didn't know he was on it, but Sherlock had already developed a very likely theory in his mind and just waited for the police to find the thing that linked everything together, so he could be sure.
Waiting was not really his forte.
The boy put his fingers together at the tips and brought them to his chin; he had to think.
Think. Think. Think.
"Your knowledge about fictional universes amazes me"
Yes, of course. That was to be foreseen.
"Hello John, and thank you."
And there he was, standing in a lucid-dream sort of fashion, dangling his feet from the top bunk.
"That's my bunk, you know."
"I didn't know you were a top person. I prefer bottom."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, but his mouth quirked up nevertheless. "Then why are you sitting on the top bunk?"
"Oh, you know living on the edge. Literally." He was sitting just at the end of the bed.
"Extreme."
"I know." John smirked. "You know, Mickey is not a useless character."
"And how do you know?" Sherlock looked a bit insulted and furrowed his eyebrows.
"I actually watch the show."
"Oh, shut up." He took a book that had suddenly appeared next to him.
John tilted his head. "Human decomposition, huh?"
"Obviously. It does say so. On the cover."
"A bit of light reading tonight then?"
"It's for an experiment."
"Oh. Right." He lied back on the bed hands by his sides.
"Where is it from?"
"Huh?" John sat up again.
"The bruise on your cheek. Where is it from?"
"Oh, that. Well, a little domestic, nothing important." He touched his cheek subconsciously. "Again, I have no idea how exactly, because I do not actually exist."
"I dare to bet it is really confusing." Sherlock was referring to his mind palace.
"Yes. You have a giant corridor with alternative universes in rooms and people and things I had no idea existed and all of that in your head. It is confusing. Isn't it to you?"
"Not really." The smart boy sneaked a peak at his friend over his book. "I have it all sorted out. Most of the time."
"Amazing." John shook his head and chuckled. "Oh! I just remembered. Although, like I said, I have no idea how, I am also changing sc-"
Sherlock took a sharp turn of his head to face the door that was being knocked on.
"Coming." Extremely annoying.
Who was disturbing him this time?
