Authors Note: HEYO! XD Please tell me what you think; I would love to know XD I own nothing and no one, apart from the following: Fredrik Jones, Theodore Wells.

JUST SO YOU KNOW: This is my FIRST attempt at Sherlock and Johnlock, so please be kind!

Please, please review XD

ALSO: I made up middle names and first names for certain characters, just so I had something to work with ^_^

NOTE: It may be a while between updates since I had other stories to write and I'm at college - plus, exams are going on at the moment. But I'll try my best :)

Chapter 2

John

We watched as Sherlock left the kitchen, glaring as he went.

I could honestly say that I had never met another person like him in all my life... And now we were, kind of, dating, thanks to our parents. Of course, my parents had asked me first and it wasn't as if I could say no to them – besides, I was intrigued. Not really. Though, I got the vibe that Sherlock's parents weren't as...polite as mine. To be honest, they didn't seem very loving, either.

I was the first to follow him, curious as to whom 'Wells' was. Well, I suppose it could be someone who worked for his parents, considering the amount of disdain in his voice when he spoke the name, but I couldn't be too sure. Also, there was the fact that Sherlock was just...extraordinary.

Of course, as soon as I got to the front door, I saw that my guess was right, as I saw boxes being carried in. But that wasn't what caught my attention. What did, however, was the fact that Sherlock stood facing a guy in his late twenties – light red hair, brown eyes, tall, slim, wearing a suit –, his hands curled into fists and expression murderous.

"I suggest you leave before I run my fist through that mind numbingly stupid head of yours." Sherlock growled, taking a menacing step forward.

Even though this guy – obviously Wells – put on an unaffected front, he took a subconscious step backwards.

"Now, Master Holmes, that wouldn't be the impression your parents would want you to make now, is it?" this guys sniggered. "I will leave as soon as everything has been removed and taken upstairs to where Mr Jones has informed me your room will be."

"Maybe I'll just skewer you through the eye with the riding crop instead." was all Sherlock replied with, as if ignoring anything the guy said. "Or I could find the spear – so many possibilities, hey, Teddy."

"Master Holmes, I will remind you that my name is Theodore not Teddy. Please do well to remember that."

"Now, now, Teddy. You're not supposed to argue, remember."

Theodore's hand twitched at his side. It was either a subconscious tick he had or he was about to hit Sherlock.

Now, even though Sherlock had only been in the house for a few hours, he didn't seem like the kind of person everyone at the school made him out to be. He seemed like an alright bloke, if a bit strange. But who wasn't strange?

Yes, Sherlock might be a bit more than most, but the way his mind seemed to work was brilliant!

Besides, an adult hitting a sixteen year old? It was outrageous.

"Mr Wells, everything seems to be in order." Fredrick – thankfully – interrupted. "You may take your leave now, I'm sure Mr Holmes will want to sort his boxes out now."

Fredrick didn't even give Wells a chance to reply, simply escorting the man out with a forceful and on his shoulder. I definitely didn't imagine the smirk on Sherlock's face at that.

"Insufferable prick." I heard Sherlock mutter.

This was going to be interesting...

Sherlock

I watched as Fredrik closed the door, with far more force than necessary, as soon as Wells had stepped out of the house. The smirk didn't leave my face, the joy too much for me to be able to keep a compose exterior. It took a lot for me not to be able to keep a look of indifference on my face, but someone putting Wells in his place – someone other than me? Now, that was enough to break the mask.

Fredrik turned around slowly, brushing down his jacket, smiling slightly to himself. It started me thinking that maybe, just maybe, Mrs Hudson was right...

"Mr Holmes, why don't I show you to your room." Fredrik spoke, turning to face me fully.

"Please, call me Sherlock." I winced. "Mr Holmes is my father.

"Of course. Follow me."

I started to follow Fredrik up the stairs, the stairs that were right behind me. We didn't get far, though, before we were stopped by Mrs Watson.

"Dinner won't be long now. Do you like lamb, Sherlock?" the woman asked, still smiling kindly.

"I won't be eating." I told her, bluntly. "One of my experiments is at a crucial stage; I mustn't be distracted by bodily functions that I can easily avoid."

With that, I turned to continue following Fredrik up the stairs.

Upstairs, light halls had wooden floors too, but with a red carpet laid out in the middle of the floor coloured walls, many pictures covering the walls, carpets laid out, vases of flowers seemingly dotted around the place.

Now, 'my room' was on the third floor – the first being the entrance, living room, kitchen, etcetera; second being Mr and Mrs Watson's bedroom as well as – I assumed – guest rooms, a library and a study, which was much like the third floor. As you came up the stairs and turned left, the door to 'my room' was the first door to the right. It was a plain wooden door, simple...though I had a feeling they would try and get me to change that soon...

"Across from you, you have Master John's room." Fredrik told me. "Miss Harry has the room next to Master John's."

I nodded. It was obvious that those were their rooms, considering their names were placed on the doors – John's being red, Harry's being blue. Strange, considering most would have it the opposite way, but I suppose those two were unlike most of the...imbeciles out in the world.

"I'll let you get comfortable." Fredrik told me, leaving me by the door.

I waited until Fredrik had started walking down the stairs to actually walk into, what was now to be 'my room', closing the door behind me as I did so.

Like I was told, my stuff had already been placed in the room. Still packed up, of course – ready for me to deal with and put where I wanted. There wasn't any way I was going to deal with it all at that moment though, deciding that it would be better to leave for the next day, so I could use the excuse to not leave the room.

Looking around properly, I noticed that it was slightly bigger than the one at the parents' house, with an en suite bathroom attached. The floor switched from the smooth wood from the hallways to a soft-looking black carpet – perfect for any spillages from my experiments. Plus, black was a nice colour – technically a shade, but oh well – to have; could never go wrong with black. The walls were white, and the only furniture – other than the bed – seemed to be a desk and chair, a wardrobe, a few shelves, a few cabinets and a couple of draws. There were two other doors in the room – on that went through to the en suite and the other...well, the other was closed. The bed was dressed in dark purple and dark blue sheets, a black blanket folded over the edge – trailing over the trunk at the end of the bed. The mattress was nine and a half inches thick, seeming to never have been slept in.

Seeing the bed made it all sink in, everything kind of...hitting me. I walked, slowly, over to the bed, kicking off my dress shoes before climbing onto it.

"This is actually happening." I muttered to myself.

I moved the pillows so the rested against the headboard, turning round so my back was resting against the pillows. I encircled me knees, hugging them close to my chest, resting my head on them.

"This is actually happening." I whispered again.

I hated my birthday.

A short while later, there was a knock on the door. I was still in the same position as I was when I first entered the room – hugging my knees on the bed.

I grunted in the general direction of the door, making sure to slip right back into how I was 'supposed to act'. I hated having to act like that, like I was better than everybody else... But it's what everyone expected from a Holmes – one couldn't disappoint.

Honestly, I thought it was going to be Mr or Mrs Watson, possibly both of them... It definitely wasn't going to be Harriet – she had been avoiding even looking at me since my deductions of her.

I wasn't expecting John to walk through the door. Well, when I say walk, I meant limped. I had seen John with his cane around school so I wasn't surprised to see it. To be honest, I didn't take much note of it. I was sure he was sick of everyone staring and asking questions.

John shut the door behind him, walking into the room slightly before leaning against the wall to take pressure off his leg.

"If you're here to tell me about your therapist appointment tomorrow, you needn't do that, I already know." I sighed, tilting my head up to stare at the ceiling. "Hm...your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid. Although, if she was any good, you wouldn't need her or the cane anymore, I suggest you stop going."

"Extraordinary." John muttered. "Um, no, that wasn't it. Dinner's ready; wanted to know if you were hungry."

"I already informed your mother that I wouldn't be eating. Is that all?"

John hobbled a little further into the room, leaning on the cane. He didn't come too close, still staying near the door – obviously just as nervous and awkward as I was. Understandable of course, since we didn't know each other at all – well, apart from what I had deduced about him and the rumours John had heard about me from school.

"I thought we could, you know, get to know each other." John said. "I mean, it's kind of what we have to do, right?"

"Let me clear this up. I have no interest in relationships, as far as I'm concerned I'm married to my work. I don't care whether or not you seek relationships with others, as long as I don't have to hear about them." I explained. "As you know, my parents are both fairly old; neither of them will be living long. As soon as we're both in our mid twenties to early thirties they'll be dead and we can forget about this whole arrangement – you can go on to marry a nice girl, have two point five children and a dog."

John nodded slowly, a small frown on his face.

"What about friends?" he asked.

"I don't have friends." I frowned.

"Well, you have one now. Happy birthday, Sherlock."

"Good evening, John."

And with that, the youngest Watson left.

Interesting...

I didn't come out of that room, deciding it would be best to put things away. Besides, it would help if I was comfortable with one room in the entire house. Yes, I know, it would take some time before that happened, but I could get a start by unpacking and spending some time in there.

Surprisingly, none of my experiments had been affected in the move, all of them still perfectly intact. Of course, I had no idea where to put them. Back at my parents' house, there were many rooms that I could go to without having to worry about going into the wrong one – especially with the floor that my room was on. Unfortunately, I couldn't do that in the Watson's home.

Sighing a little, I went over to the closed door in the room – it was to the left as you walked into the room. It was surprising, considering there was no door near the one for the room I was inhabiting, the next one being further down the hallway. The door peaked my interested so, of course, I had to go investigate.

The door was open, a key sticking out of the lock – at least I knew I could lock it if need be. Placing the key in my pocket for now, I opened and walked through the door. I ended up walking into a room, with wooden flooring, that overlooked a part of the gardens – just like the main room did – one wall being all glass. There was one long, rectangular table in the centre of the room, a stool in the corner by the glass wall and a large whiteboard along another. A cabinet was to the left, a range of items packed in there, still in boxes.

Interesting.

Going over to the glass wall, I could see Mrs Hudson and a few others tending to the garden. Mrs Hudson always loved nursing the flowers, especially the chrysanthemums... Mother didn't care for them much, but they always seemed to pop up around the gardens. It was obvious that Mrs Watson thought differently to Mother in many ways.

"Your parents mentioned your experiments." a voice said from behind me. "Geoffrey and I thought you would get more use out of this room than anyone else."

Turning around, Mrs Watson was standing in the doorway between the room with the glass window and the one it was attached to, smiling softly.

"Thank you, you and you're husband are most kind, Mrs Watson." I nodded. "You certainly didn't need to do such a thing."

"Nonsense, dear. It was the least I could do." she replied. "And none of that 'Mr and Mrs' malarkey, call us Geoffrey and Philomena."

That wasn't expected, I would be honest. Any and all associates of my parents expected to be addressed by their title and last name; obviously I thought that would be the same for Mr and Mrs Watson.

Frowning slightly, I tilted my head to the side... I couldn't quite understand why these people were so...nice. No one was ever nice to me – apart from Mrs Hudson, of course. To everyone else, I was a freak. Something to be avoided. A machine. People saw me as a thing without feelings...

"We would love to get to know you, Sherlock." Mrs Watson continued. "You seem like such a lovely young man, and Mrs Hudson can't stop singing your praises. It would be nice if we could find out more."

"I assure you, there is not much to know." I sighed. "It would be tedious; a waste of breath. Much better if we don't go through that process."

"Ah, I see; you're a little shy. Don't worry, dear, we can talk once you're more comfortable. Happy Birthday, Sherlock."

Just like her son, Mrs Watson walked away, calling over her shoulder to tell me that should take as much time as I needed in 'my room'.

Shaking my head slightly, I started to move my experiments into the side room – as I had now dubbed it. Of course, I had to find a way to get a fridge into that room – I didn't want any of my more...delicate experiments to go wrong. It would be easy to do; I had snuck worse things into a room before.

Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. This was not how I thought this birthday would go.

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