Prompt: Library, from Wordwielder

A/N: First, again, bear with me because my Holmes POV is very out of practice and I've never written him at college before (which is when this story is set). Second - this prompt was HEAVEN SENT to me, THANK YOU! I'm actually a librarian in real life and I spent hours picturing imagining what Holmes would be like if he came up to me at the reference desk and came to the very quick conclusion that he'd be a very annoying know-it-all who would constantly return books in horrible condition. So this is partially inspired by that.

While I have been known to spend days not moving from my bed in the absence of anything to do, being unable to do so when I did have something I wanted to do was most inconvenient. I had left the results of a chemical experiment unwritten for over a week since what I was terming "the incident," and another long series of notes I was to turn into a paper for the only chemistry class I had managed to fit into my schedule. This, of course, did not include the coursework for those classes which had no practical application to my own course of study, yet the university insisted we sit for anyway; namely, lessons in Latin, English, History and Classics. Well, those were not such a bother, as I rarely attended these lectures and handed in only enough of the assigned work not to lose my place at university and then promptly deleted anything I had inadvertently learned from my brain-attic. I may not have known yet what it was I wanted to do with my life, other than that it did not involve translating dusty Latin poetry, but I knew what I would not likely need to know in future.

I pushed myself out of bed, pleased to note that the ankle which had sustained the unfortunate dog-induced frostbite was now at last able to take my weight, though it still smarted fiercely. No matter. I was determined to make it to the library to finish the report of my chemical experimentation, and had managed to hobble to the door when I opened it to reveal Victor Trevor. He had visited each day since he and I had inadvertently met, thanks to his pup's overly friendly nature and disregard for freezing temperatures. I was still as yet unsure what to make of him - other than that he was the son of a landed gentleman, was taking the general course of study most men of his class did, with its focus on Classics and history, that he enjoyed shooting and fishing, obviously kept a dog, and had a generally optimistic view of life in combination with a certain temper he kept under restraint. All this I had learned while he was endeavouring to pry his dog off my ankle, he and I having not discussed much other than my recovery and the weather during my convalescence. Yet he had faithfully continued to check on my recovery, even staying longer each day. While I ordinarily did not invite companionship, I was so laid up with little to do that I found it difficult to turn him away. Now, at least, I should be able to return to my usual solitary ways.

"Holmes!" he said in some surprise as he saw me stumbling out the door of my rooms. "Wherever are you going?"

"The library," I said, hanging onto the wall for support and nearly dropping my books. "I have left my work abandoned for far too long."

"You really ought to be in bed still," Trevor said, catching my books and taking hold of my arm to steady me.

"I am fine," I said forcefully, yet something in Trevor's hearty and friendly nature refused to believe me and he continued to see me toward the stairs.

"Come now, Holmes, if you really must go to the library, at least allow me to see you there," Trevor said. "You must see you cannot make the stairs on your own."

He was, most annoyingly, correct. I held onto my chemistry books and had no choice but to allow him to take my arm to assist me down the stairs. I so dislike having to depend on others (as my brother will surely tell anyone who asks) that I immediately turned to say goodbye, only to find him continuing to walk my way. "I have some work I need to do as well," he said, shrugging. "We may as well study together."

Well, this was a pretty problem. My study habits were reclusive, and the only reason I used the library was because I was unable to fit a chemistry library the size I required in my rooms. When I was caught up in a problem, I was not likely to talk, sometimes for days on end, and often found even the smallest noises from others disturbing. Trevor, in his hearty, energetic way, was not the quiet sort and I doubted I should get any work done if he insisted on studying with me. Yet I had no way of intimating this without insulting him, and even I had the sense that a man who had the decency to look in my recovery daily for ten days did not deserve what Mycroft called "the full force of my black moods." I merely grunted and headed on to the library, where I might find that all the tables were taken and we should have to separate. This, I thought to myself, is why I had not cultivated any friendships in my life, and why I had not intended to do so at college, when all the other men seemed to spend most of their time in the alehouses and neglecting their studies in favor of attending rugby matches. Yet even I am not clairvoyant, and could not predict that a dog should freeze itself to my ankle, thus pushing Victor Trevor into my path and apparently, leaving him there for the foreseeable future

We arrived at the library to find, naturally, a free table large enough for both of us and all our books. I immediately dropped my things onto the table and hobbled over to the librarian, handing her an extensive list of books I needed which caused her to raise her eyebrows. No matter. The staff here was quite used to me and my sometimes unusual requests, so I simply made my way back to our table and buried my nose in my results until I heard someone clear their throat. I can only assume it was the librarian standing behind the towering pile of books that appeared to be floating next to me, and I thanked her, shoving aside my papers so she might put them down. "That is quite a lot of books, Holmes," Trevor remarked. "What is it you go in for, anyway?"

"Chemistry," I said, writing my formulae furiously. It was a wonder I remembered them after ten days. "And I have much to catch up on," I added pointedly.

Trevor shrugged good-naturedly, and I made a note that he seemed not to mind my occasional sharp moods. He got out his own work and was soon buried in what turned out to be Latin translations. His occasional grunts and exhalations told me that it was not his favorite subject, and I smirked. Nor had it been mine. "Holmes, you did not already have your Introductory Latin lecture, did you?" Trevor asked, sounding in some desperation.

I repressed the sigh that arose at being interrupted. "I did, last term," I said. "Though I do not remember anything about it in the slightest," I added, lest he think I could be of any help.

Trevor appeared quite taken aback at this and I smiled. "I do not allow myself to remember anything that is not useful to me," I said. "A dead language hardly counts as such, in my estimation, don't you agree?"

Trevor burst out laughing, to my surprise, for I had never made someone laugh except in mockery. "I think so, yet for some reason they insist on our taking it." He put down his pen, evidently looking for an excuse to ignore his work. "What is it you intend to do with your degree?"

At this, I must admit he had truly presented me with a thorny problem. I had not the slightest idea what I wanted to do with my life at this point. I had entered university intending to become a chemist, and while I still greatly enjoyed the experimentation and research, I had very little desire to teach classes of students. I was, even at this time, beginning to question the use of a university education to me, as so much of what I was required to take was so utterly useless. "I do not know yet," I said. "And you?" I asked out of politeness, though I already knew. He had already told me he was his father's only son and therefore was set to inherit his father's land. As a second son, I was not so fortunate (although perhaps I was, as I had no interest in maintaining property, and even Mycroft, as the eldest, was intending to sell off the estate as soon as he came into it).

"What does any man do with it?" Trevor said. "I am expected to go into law, as my father has done."

"He is a judge in Norfolk, is he not?" I asked absently. These little pronouncements were, even then, so unconsciously done on my part that I was quite surprised by Trevor's look of astonishment.

"How did you know that?" he asked.

"It was quite easy," I said. "Your accent identifies you as being a Norfolk man, and there is a letter sticking out from your pocket bearing the partial return address "Trevor, the letters "rthouse," Norfolk." Obviously the sender's name is Trevor, therefore a relative, most likely your father as you share a name, the letters "rthouse" most likely refers to a courthouse, especially if the letter does indeed come from your father. I had already determined from your dress and bearing that you come from a landowning family, so I was able to deduce that your father serves as a judge in the courthouses of Norfolk."

Trevor stared at me in a shocked way that had become very familiar to me since entering college - I confess this had come as a surprise to me, as such deductions were common between Mycroft and I at home, and neither of us thought it an especially unique ability. The few times I had used my deductive abilities in college, however, had usually resulted in everyone becoming quite embarrassed and angry with me. Trevor, however, was looking at me in something close to awe. "That is remarkable," he said.

"On the contrary, it is pure simplicity," I said. I finished my chemistry report, and turned to my English and history work. I ordinarily had little patience for such useless claptrap; today, when my ankle still pained me, I had even less. I had many other things I should rather be doing, even if they were not directly related to my already unusual course of study. "Excuse me," I said to Trevor, writing up another list of books for the librarian to find. I believe I saw her cringe when she saw me approach, though she sighed with admirable patience and went off to get me my items. She soon returned with armfuls of books on musical notation and medieval chant, giving me a dark look as she added them to the already tottering piles of chemistry books. Trevor merely laughed, though there was by now hardly any room left for his own work on our table.

"You have much of the whole library there, Holmes," he said, seeming to find me much more interesting than his Latin translation (well, that is no surprise).

"I have wide interests," I said, beginning to make notes on the Italian chant style of the seventh century.

"She did not look fond of you," Trevor said in a whisper, and I looked up to see the librarian giving me a dark look from where she was talking to her companion.

I merely smiled. "I am not a favorite of theirs. You know I am no longer allowed the privilege of checking out books?" This, I considered unfair. It certainly was not my fault that I had spilled corrosive chemicals on more than one book as I conducted experiments so that the pages were eaten away, nor that I had forgotten another in my breast pocket during fencing practice and accordingly had it skewered. Though I was to blame for the notes I scribbled in the margins of music books as I composed - seemingly something I was unable to stop myself from doing.

Trevor, however, laughed heartily as I explained this. Would nothing drive away the man's good spirits? But to my surprise, I found myself laughing along, and was surprisingly gratified when he offered to use his borrowing privileges to borrow books for me.

Perhaps it would not be such a bad thing to have a friend. My mood was certainly much improved, and I had actually managed to accomplish some of my work. No, it could not be such a bad thing at all - though with any luck Victor Trevor would be the only one. I certainly did not want to start cultivating a social life. What Mycroft would say!