A/N: Little, innocent Sherlock. How adorable. Too bad it won't last... maybe. Next chapter, here we go! Disclaimer: Same old, same old. I don't own Sherlock, blah blah blah. OK done, here's the chapter.
Sherlock walked into the entrance hall, a little lost, but a little not. This school was smaller than his family's mansion, so he didn't feel dwarfed. An old man came up to him and told him to "please stay on that bench there." So Sherlock sat, his trunk and violin case right next to him. Slowly, over the course of the next hour, more boys trickled in, ages 10-17. Since he had so much time, he decided to go to his mind palace, but only out of the corner of his eye. It was a trick he'd learned last year at school,when the teachers were being boring. School... It was only now that Sherlock began to think of John, and Greg, his friends whom he'd left behind. He had joined them in the fourth grade by March, so he was technically a fifth grader. But they didn't know that he'd moved to London, and from there to a fancy boarding school. They would think he'd just left without thinking of them. Sherlock resolved to write a letter to each of them as soon as possible, explaining in as friendly a manner he was capable of, just what had happened.
Finally, all the students had arrived, and everyone was ushered into the auditeria, which was a cross between a cafeteria and an auditorium. The old man, who turned out to be the headmaster, walked up to a podium. "Hello, everyone. As many of you know, I am your headmaster. My full name is Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle, however you need only call me Professor. Yes, the sir does mean I have been knighted. Welcome back, old students, and to the newcomers, welcome. We-" here he gestured to the staff "-hope to turn out fine, credible students by the end of the year. Now, you surely must want lunch (A/N: midday meal, American, sorry), so please, enjoy." A bunch of metal walls cranked open and the students could see a kitchen, with many chefs.
Sherlock followed the map given to him by a teacher until he reached the fifth grade dorm hallway. Most had two names marked on the door but at last he came to a door that had just one name- Sherlock Holmes. He unlocked it using his lock-picking set, just to see how easy it was-it was very easy-and opened the door. His mother was right. It was small, but it would fit him just fine. There was a bed, which was tucked between two walls, resting against a third; a space by the foot of the bed for his trunk; a medium-sized desk occupying a whole wall; a lamp on the desk; and finally, a huge window opposite the bed, on the fourth wall.
Sherlock immediately got to work putting sheets on the bed and curtains on the window. Then he decide to improve the lock on his door, so he added a deadbolt fashioned out of extra bits and pieces. Next, he opened his trunk and pulled out his chemistry set, complete with gloves and goggles, and set it on the desk, mentally declaring that his science space. After that, he opened his violin case and took out his instrument, then closed the door (which was sound-proof) and started to play Winter. He was about halfway through the song when he looked at the clock hanging above his bed and realized that it was almost dinnertime.(Again, evening meal, sorry) He rushed to put away his violin, then he near about ran through the door, when he remembered to deadbolt his door. He had developed it so it could be lock from the outside, but only if you knew where it was and how to do it. Finally he was done, and he went to dinner.
A/N: Sorry for the american terms, I would love to be British. This chapter was interesting to write. I think next chapter will skip ahead to Christmas. Please review, I could always use the comments. See you next chapter!