A/N: Oh my god, I am so so sorry. First I went to Salt Lake City Comic Con and then I got sick and then this chapter hated me so I went to work on other aspects of the story. Like the mock-up of the grounds I put on the previous chapter. The mock-up of the dorm rooms at the end of this chapter. The house badges including animal, colors, and dorm heads. A lot of background stuff that is important in my head, that might not make it into the story.

Thanks to my beta who looked over this chapter even though she wasn't feeling good, so guys can get the chapter sooner. And you'll be happy to note, I have the next chapter written, I just have to type it up.

EDIT: I made a slight change to the chapter. I had John surprised Sherlock dances, when in the previous chapter they discuss his dancing. Oops! So I fixed it so makes sense with the previous chapter. Thanks lovelies.

John wasted no time throwing open the door to their room. He supposed it made sense that they were rooming together, what with the probation Sherlock was on.

Despite what Mrs Hudson said, John knew he was Sherlock's minder. It was his job to make sure the lanky youth kept his head down and his mouth shut until the term was over. Thankfully, it was only the one term instead of half the school year as he had feared. But the Dean had mentioned that Sherlock was a bit of a loner and in need of a friend. John wondered briefly if it was by choice or if others shunned him. He was willing to bet it was probably a mixture of both.

Well, John would be Sherlock's friend. It wasn't exactly a hardship. Sherlock reminded him a bit of James. Though admittedly, James was more a quiet eccentric compared to the boisterous madman who had become his roommate. But there was just something in the soul of each boy that screamed a want for someone to understand that the face they show to the world is nothing but a mask.

In the short couple hours of being in Sherlock's company, John got the impression that the tall youth thought he didn't need anything but those small objects he cherished. His violin, Silver Blaze, dancing, and his books. People need not apply. But there were moments when he didn't know John was looking that he would get this expression of pure longing for someone to laugh with him, not at him.

"Which side have you staked your claim on?" John said as he walked between the desks and beds to stand in the middle of the room. Pushed against the wall under the window were two sets of drawers. There was a small door on the near end of the left-hand wall that led to the en suite bathroom.

Sherlock quirked a small smile at John's wording. "The left. The other side shares a wall with 222B's bathroom and Kingsley masturbates in the shower."

John ran his hands down his face, "Really?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"Bastard," the smaller boy muttered. "Fine. But if he does wank off, I'm giving you a play-by-play."

Sherlock grinned. John began unpacking his things, books, uniforms, pictures from home. Sherlock threw open his chest to unpack as as well. He pressed his hand to his mouth. He shakily pulled out his mobile phone and tapped out a message.

-I owe big time, brother dear. Thank you so much. The new roommate, the coat, the snow globe, my coat, violin and microscope. Everything is perfect. -SH

-Think nothing of it. It was the least I could do. -M

Sherlock put his phone back in his pocket and began methodically putting everything away.

He was almost done when John called out from his side of the room.

"Hey, what's your schedule like? I want to know if we have any classes together."

Sherlock doubted it. Well, until he looked closer at John's books. An academic scholarship as well as one for sports? Very interesting, very interesting indeed. John was too busy plotting the demise of the horrific lamp his mother had bought to notice the pause before Sherlock replied.

"On 'A' days I have advanced maths, advanced chem., orchestra, dance and riding…."

"Oh? What instrument do you play?" the blond boy asked, eying the long black case on Sherlock's bed with interest.

"Violin."

"So let me get this straight; you ride and play the violin, on top of the dancing? Damn, mate!"

Sherlock gulped and nodded. He worried that it would be too much for the scholarship boy. That he might decide that Sherlock was too posh to be friends with.

"Explains why you're so bloody graceful. I bet you keep it a secret so the girls don't beat down your door."

"Umm…" Sherlock coughed. "Girls aren't my area."

John lifted an eyebrow. "Boys then."

"They beat down my door for other reasons," Sherlock flinched.

John shook his head.

"Idiots. I'd like to see them lift a girl over their head and hold her. And there's the fact you get see girls in skin tight clothes. Being a dancer has nothing to do with being gay. And being gay is fine." There was a low growl in John's voice.

"Sounds like you're talking from experience," Sherlock murmured as he slid his violin case under the bed.

"Not me personally. My sister is a lesbo," John explained as he flopped on the bed.

"Ah."

"Bored."

Sherlock looked over his roommate and rolled his eyes. "You could go down to the rec room. I'm sure it's open." And there it was. John would go running off to be with the other boys and then he'd learn, no one likes the freak. He'd become one of them.

"Great!" John said, enthused. He grabbed Sherlock wrist and attempted to drag him with.

Sherlock stared at the blond youth in shock. "I-I'm not welcome there. All the boys down there hate me."

"Ah but you see, I'll be with you and therefore not every boy will hate you."

Still Sherlock wouldn't budge. "Come on, Sherlock. I don't want to go down by myself."

Sherlock sighed. "Look, I'll make you a deal. You go down first, while I get a shower and then I'll come down. Give you time to meet people without me there. And if I'm right, which I usually am, you'll see that they don't like me."

"And if you're wrong?" John asked folding his arms across his chest.

"Then, I will go down with any time you want for the next month," Sherlock replied.

"Deal!" John said sticking out his hand. Sherlock shook it. "See you down there!" he called as he dashed out of their room.

He ran down the stairs and to the rec room, where he stopped at the door to take it all in. This was better. There was music playing from someone's ipod in the corner. There were boys playing chess and pool or just lazing around having a laugh. In the middle of the boys lazing about was a dark-haired youth with warm brown eyes and a lop-sided grin.

Their eyes met and the other boy stood up, making his way toward John. Once there the boy stuck out his hand. "Greg Lestrade. You must be John Watson, right?"

John took his hand and nodded. "That's me. What did you read it off my jeans or something?"

"Uh, no. I'm the dorm head. You wouldn't happen to be talking about Sherlock Holmes and his ability to read your life story like a book, would you?" Greg was practically cringing.

"Yep! He's brilliant. Showed me around in fact. Bit of a mad man, but then all super-smart people are," John said, tucking his hands behind his back and rocking back on his heels.

"You liked him? That's not most people's reaction."

John cocked his head to the side and frowned. "What's the normal reaction?"

"'Piss off.'"

"Ouch. No, we got along fine. Which is good, because he's my roommate."

"Oh. Well good luck, mate," Greg let out a low whistle. "Hey, let me introduce you to the lads."

There were a half dozen or so boys that Greg introduced him to, but it was clear that the ring leaders were Greg, Victor, and Langdale. Victor and Langdale (who preferred Dale) couldn't have been more different if they were designed that way.

Victor Trevor was Greg's height at 5'10''. Dark hair, skin and eyes. His Indian heritage stamped clearly in the narrow set eyes, high forehead, and long nose, but he made these features look good. He was quiet and reserved. Thinking before he spoke. His voice was soft and mild. His manner and diction polite.

Langdale Pike on the other hand, was tall. John estimated at 6'2'' and he wasn't sure the boy was done growing. His eyes were light and he had light brown curls that were tamed by being slicked back from his forehead. He had a wicked gleam in his eye and glib tongue that never seemed to stop wagging. He was loud and boisterous, clearly making up for his friend's silence.

The four of them started up a game of doubles pool, with John and Victor on one side and Dale and Greg on the other. John groaned as Dale sank another ball. They were losing.

Suddenly the room went quiet. John looked up at the door to see Sherlock had kept his promise and had come down. Sherlock turned from the door and would have bolted if John hadn't caught his arm.

"See?" Sherlock muttered. "They hate me."

"Come on. We're playing doubles, you can take my place. I'm only dragging Victor down anyway," John said as he dragged his new friend to the other boys.

"Everyone say hi to Sherlock," John prompted the slack-jawed boys standing around the pool table.

There was a chorus of hellos. John thrust a cue in Sherlock's hand.

"You're up, we're odds."

Sherlock sighed. It was clear that John was going to force this and it appeared the blond youth could be quite tenacious.

Sherlock rolled his shoulders and then dusted his cue. His eyes flickered around the board before settling on his target. He drew the cue back and with a crack the cue ball went sailing toward the nine ball. Thunk! And then nine ball went down.

Again his eyes flicked around the board. He lined up his shot and with the same efficiency the five ball fell to the skill of an expert pool shark. He cracked his neck and walked around the board, surveying it from every angle. John's left hand twitched nervously. The remaining odd ball was poorly placed, being surrounded by the even balls and the eight ball.

Sherlock smirked and then pulled back the cue and hit the cue ball as hard as he could. It went dancing around the board before it struck the fifteen ball, and it too danced around the board to fall in a corner pocket.

There were four shocked faces staring at the lanky youth.

Sherlock coughed. "Are we playing for the eight ball?" he asked, suddenly nervous.

"Yeah," John managed to force out.

Sherlock nodded and bam! the eight ball fell to his ruthless prowess.

"Wow," Greg bit out.

Victor lifted up Dale's jaw. Dale was completely stunned into silence for the first time, ever.

"Um…" Sherlock stammered. "I-I'll just be leaving then." He dropped the cue on the table and turned to leave.

A hand darted out and Sherlock looked down to see dark fingers wrapped around his thin wrist.

"Stay?" Victor asked.

"Yeah, mate," John agreed. "You have to show us how you did that. I've seen lots of pool sharks in my home town, but none that could have done what you just did. That was incredible."

"You have to stay, Sherlock. You made Dale here shut up and anyone who can do that has my vote," Greg added.

Dale merely nodded.

"You really want me to stay?" Sherlock asked the other boys and received a chorus of nods and 'hell yes.' He stayed. Victor even managed to convince Sherlock to teach him how to line up his shots. John and Greg shared a smirk on how Victor managed to plaster himself on the inside of Sherlock's body as they lined up the shot together.

Too soon the clock struck ten and it was time for the boys to go to bed. Sherlock was chatting animatedly with Victor and Dale, so he missed John being pulled aside by Greg.

"Alright, Mr Wizard, what the hell did you do to our Sherlock?"

"Um…" John hedged. "I'm not sure I understand the question."

"Look. I like the guy. I do. But he's got no filter. Whatever comes to his mind, he just blurts out with little to no regard for the person he's spewing them at. But this Sherlock, the one that just left? That is not the Sherlock I know."

"Maybe he just needed someone to praise him, instead of condemning him," John said, his arms crossing in front of his chest defensively.

Greg held up his hands, placating. "No, I get that. You're good for him. He looks to you for social cues. Did you notice?"

There had been a moment when Sherlock had said something that was more than a little not good and Sherlock had turned to John for confirmation he had stumbled.

"Not good?" the slender boy had asked.

"A bit not good, yeah," John replied.

He had gone on to defend his statement, but he had still asked.

"Yeah. I got that," John said. "I'm guess that was unusual."

"Try a bleeding miracle, John. Seriously. I want to know how you bewitched Sherlock Holmes," Greg pressed. "Because I want to be able to do that, too."

"Nah. He likes you," John assured the dorm head. "After he spotted me, his eyes went searching for you. Once he spotted the both of us, he relaxed."

Greg sighed. "It's because I try to keep the bullying to a minimum, but I can't stop the name calling. I don't even try. But what I can do is make sure it's effects aren't as far-reaching."

"It'll be fine, Greg. Wait and see," John said, patting the other boy on the shoulder.

John went up to his room and saw that Sherlock was leaning against the door, waiting for him.

"So, did Greg tell you all about the 'Freak?'" Sherlock spat.

John help up his hands. "Whoa! Where the hell did that come from? Sheesh, Sherlock. There was no naming calling at all."

"Everyone hates the 'Freak.' Some more so than others. Greg is only kind to me because he can come across as heroic to the ladies."

"That's not true and you know it." John sighed. "I know it's hard to trust people when they have done nothing but hurt you. You have to trust me. I won't do that to you. Greg wouldn't either. And you made friends out Dale and Victor. Don't deny it."

"They were tolerable, I suppose," Sherlock sniffed.

John laughed and pushed Sherlock out of the way to enter their room. He started to gather up his things to change, when he heard Sherlock say, "What did Greg want then?"

John turned around and smiled. "He wanted to know what spell I had used to charm the fierce beast known as Sherlock Holmes and turned him into the fairy prince that graced us with his presence." He winked at his friend and he went to the bathroom.

As he closed the door he swore he heard Sherlock say, "That is the mystery indeed."