Both hands grasping hot cups of tea John kicked at the door. "Sherlock open up" The machine downstairs had been out of order and he a feeling the young man had known that. Unwilling to return empty handed he had walked over to another building in order to retrieve the drinks. A loud thud sound from inside the room followed by a sharp curse of pain and frantic rustling of papers. "Sherlock? You alright?" The door wrenched open with such sudden violence that John felt forced to take a step back.
The skinny youth was panting heavily, dark fluffy hair had fallen into his eyes and he had made no move to move it. A thin gold chain that John hadn't noticed before hung from his shirt a plain band hung from it. Sherlock slowed his breathing straightened his shirt, tucking the chain within his shirt and stepped to allow the smaller teenager entrance. John nearly dropped the tea. The entire right half of the room was immaculate, all the papers on the walls moved the boxes pushed to the left even the curtain on the right side of the window was hanging neatly (the left side was wrapped strangely around a mannequin arm) Sherlock was busy taping all the papers from the right side of the room over the ones on the left.
Right…? John sat the two cups down and laid the excess money on the desk. He glanced sideways at his dorm mate. The thin teen was stretched to his full height standing on one of the filing boxes in order to clamber on top of the bookshelf. John could clearly see the bone structure of the thin body through his shirt the boy had to be ill. John looked around the room uncertainty before picking up one of the boxes marked 1871-1875 he placed it against the wall next to one marked 1876-1880.
"Um- Sherlock?" The boy didn't respond. "Sherlock!" Was this going to become a thing? He turned slightly wobbly from his perch on bookshelf. "What is all this?" John held up another box 1921-1925 written neatly in marker on the front. "Research" "On what?" John asked dazed. What could possibly be so fascinating? "Murder" The blond nearly dropped the box. "Murder-?" He felt his brow scrunch up in a mixture of horror and fascination. "Mostly, also cartels, gangs, bombings…ra— " a look off discomfort settled on the features momentarily. John dismissed the falter. "Oh! and some chemistry, music and mathematics as well." The tall youth leapt to the floor and held out his arms for the box "But all of those are clearly marked" John shook his head and turned to the case on his bed. "Afghanistan or Iraq?" "What?" He turned quickly. "I do hate to repeat myself." The would be model sighed, face settling into a perfect pout. "You're father before he died, Afghanistan or Iraq?" John blinked. "Iraq- who told—?" "No one told me." "The how did you— actually no never mind you wouldn't answer anyway." there was an akward silence where the two roommates simply stared at each other. "Dog tags." Unconsciously John raised his fingers to the chains beneath his jumper. "They could be my grandfather's…" "No, you're not from a close knit family, the stiffness when I got close to you makes that obvious, besides you hold yourself straight, make eye contact and walk with military gait something you are far more likely to pick up from someone who raised you. You're sentimental about your father's death now but when he was around you avoided him probably because he was alcoholic your older sibling has the same problem, the drinking probably a brother judging by your mobile. You play rugby because you're good at it and want to fit in even though you don't particularly enjoy the game. You would much rather focus your time on biology seeing as you want to be a doctor, military doctor if I'm not mistaken, which I rarely am. You are here on a scholarship which means you must be at least relatively clever. "
How the heck—?
The curly haired teen sucked in a breath cursing mentally. Stupid stupid stupid. There went any chance of a semi-decent school year. John was sure to hate him now. The blond rugby player was well equipped to beat him if he wanted and now had a reason to. Sherlock pulled his bottom lip in-between his teeth nervously waiting for John Watson to push him away and tell him to—
"That was amazing…" John breathed staring at the youth in-front of him. Sherlock's eyebrows twitched, lips parting slightly in apparent surprise. He had been sure as soon as he started talking the he would ruin any chance of John Watson liking him. "Really?" "Yes it was quite extraordinary" He hadn't heard wrong. How fascinating perhaps—? "That's not what people normally say…" "What do they normally say?" Curiosity? Good. "Piss off" when the last two words left his mouth the last thing he expected was for John to laugh. And for him to join him. The pair of teenagers gasped for breath laughing outrageously. John collapsing onto his bed with Sherlock clinging to the side of the bookshelf.
John was laughing and so was his strange room mate. He smiled hearing the deep chuckling laughter getting the feeling not many things made Sherlock Holmes laugh.
A ginger headed boy in the hallway dropped his mobile in shock. That Freak was laughing! And someone was laughing in there with him. He scooped up the piece of technology backing away from the closed door before dashing in the opposite direction, Moran wouldn't believe it