So…I had actually been so busy I had decided to stop writing this fic all together, but I have been reading a lot of Teenlock as of late and decided that there are too many people who keep favoriting and following this fic to disappoint. So I shall finish it! If I forget for a while you have permission to send me angry messages to give me a punch in the butt. So here for your reading pleasure is chapter 4, it begins with a John pov
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When John arrived, hair still wet, in the dining hall it was already abuzz with activity. It was a wide rectangular room with tapestries bearing the school's shield emblazoning the walls. The head table where the Dean and the rest of the squat bearded professors sat was situated at the entrance; a birth of space separated the professors from the long tables where the students sat that stretched uniformly down to the other end of the room.
He found himself scanning the room for his roommate. It would be suicide to sit with him of course, but he at least wanted to make sure that the other boy was ok. His eyes found their target at the far end of the room engrossed in a large leather bound book. Sherlock didn't seem too upset, but then again it was hard to tell with him, his lips were creased into a thin line of thought and every so often he would scribble furiously into a notebook. John found himself breathing a sigh of relief which was knocked quite suddenly from his lungs by a hand clapping him hard on the back.
"Ey Watson, we're sitting over here today." Marcus shoved past him raising an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Or were you thinking of sitting with the fag today, because you know that's ok too." His tone said that he was teasing. John felt his heart twinge a little and he had half a mind to say yes and go to join Sherlock in the corner. But he was fairly certain that Sherlock would either ignore him or leave him sitting alone at the table anyways. He laughed, shifting nervously under the eyes of his peers.
"Come on guys, that's gross…" he took his usual seat between Marcus and Chris throwing one last glance over to the corner. Sherlock hadn't moved, he would have to find a better way to apologize later, but for now he was famished.
If there was one thing that Baker's School for boys was known for it was its food. Dinner consisted of caramelized carrots and maple glazed salmon, John tucked in with gusto. It was perfect as usual. Dessert followed. Little white cakes with strawberries and rich dark chocolate drizzled over the top. John had his with his usual cup of tea. He was in heaven, even Marcus's stupid conversation about their French instructor's pretty assistant and something about the size of her breasts couldn't break his mood. Nope, no one could be in a bad mood after that dinner, could they? Not even-?
Sherlock's dinner and dessert sat in front of him untouched. His head hadn't even left the book. A mug of tea sat next to him however and every so often a pale hand would sneak across the table to grasp it by the handle and pull it to those cupids bow lips.
"Oy earth to Watson."
"Huh?" Chris was staring at him like he had snakes wriggling out of his ears.
"Weren't you listening, Dom asked if we wanted to sneak out tonight to play pool at the pub downtown."
"Uh." He had considering sneaking out, but not to the kind of pub that they were thinking of. "Maybe not tonight guys, I have a lot of work to do, next time I'm on though." He stretched and yawned to show that he was in no fit shape for a night out on the town.
"Meh whatever then," He and Dom returned to their conversation and John excused himself silently from the table and ambled back across campus to his dorm.
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Sherlock sighed and looked up from his book shaking a stray lock of hair from his face. Damn his infuriating new roommate. Despite his attempts to research and record the types of fungus he had collected from the dorm showers that morning he had been unable to concentrate. He had specifically asked Mycroft for a single room. But as usual his brother had his "better interests" in mind and had placed him with the one person in the school who on his first day had completely humiliated him.
Watson's goonish friends were pointing and snickering at him from their place at the other end of the table. He had caught his damnable roommate glancing at him curiously from their midst all throughout dinner.
Students had begun to file out of the hall still chatting merrily about dinner. Sherlock glanced at his plate, the carrots had gone a bit mushy and the salmon was cold. No use eating now, and he had never really been a fan of cake. Using one pale finger he pushed the plate further from him and carefully unfolded his leather bag from the seat beside him and slipping his book inside of it, careful not to crease its pages. It would be better to just go back to the dorm and get some of the sleep that he rarely succumbed to.
Slipping away from the table he began to trudge down the length of the dining hall only to bump headfirst into what seemed to be Marcus.
"Going somewhere pansy?" he gritted out through gnarled teeth.
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AN:I'll continue with Sherlock's narrative in the next chapter. I was getting a bit tired and I don't want my quality of writing to be affected because I am trying to get it done. So expect more soon. Rate, Review. Love you all.