Baskerville Boarding School: the prestigious school with twelve hundred and seventy five students. Twelve hundred and seventy four of which were bumbling buffoons, who probably barely even knew how to tie their shoelaces. I was the only one who wasn’t stupid. I was the only one who knew how to think assertively and clearly. And I was the freak.

“Mycroft, I don’t need you to show me to my room,” I whined to my older brother as we walked along the busy corridor to my dorm room, 221b Baker. “I already have the complete school layout memorised.”

Mycroft groaned. “Sherlock, you know Mummy would be upset if I didn’t do as she asked.”

“Yes well Mummy wouldn’t have to find out.”

“But she would.”

“Yes because you would tell her- along with every other insignificant fact.”

Mycroft sighed but made no other response. He was obviously tired and stressed out. He was, after all, the schools assistant Headmaster. He had to fill basically all roles, and when the headmaster wasn’t around –which was most of the time from what I observed, Mycroft would have to take his role also.

We came up to a dark, glossy door with “221” on it. ‘How original,’ I thought to myself sarcastically.

“This is it,” Mycroft stated the obvious.

I rolled my eyes. “Obviously.”

Mycroft gave me a key for the room, and as I unlocked the door, and went inside, he followed me in.

The room was bare.  There were two beds at the back of the room, with a set of drawers either side of the beds, making for four in total. There was a table and a sofa, and then a door came out to the side in the front, and I noted that to be the door to the lavatory.

“Your roommate is a boy named John Watson. He’s a good student, coming here on a-“

“-Rugby scholarship. Yes, I know,” I interrupted my brother.

“Of course you do,” he muttered. “Behave yourself for once, alright? I know at your previous schools things weren’t so good, but hopefully here you’ll settle in better, just so long as you don’t do your annoying little deductions.”

“So you want me to try be mainstream, and a trend?” I laughed bitterly, “as if, Mycroft. I don’t care about these stupid Neanderthals. I don’t care what they do or say, least of all what they say to or about me.”

“On your head be it, then, Sherlock.” With that, Mycroft walked away, but not before telling me to go to his office if need be.

I threw my suitcase down onto the bed, before unzipping it, and pulling out my clothes and putting them into my drawers. I got my other bag, and pulled out my microscope and my violin, and set my violin on the ground, before going and putting my microscope on the table.

I then went and fell back on my bed, placing my fingers under my chin in their usual temple position, and went into my mind palace.

A while later, I heard a key in the door, before a sigh as the person there realized the door was already unlocked. I observed this to be John Watson, my new roommate. Sure enough, the door swung open, and a short, sandy haired boy came into the room, dragging a suitcase and a duffle bag in behind him.

He placed his bags on the ground beside the opposite bed, before turning to look at me with a smile. “Oh, hello,” he said.

“Hello,” I replied slowly, continuing to watch him.

“I’m-“

“-John Watson. Yes, I’m aware of that.”

John gaped at me. “H-how did you know?”

“I didn’t know, I noticed.” I sighed.

“Okay… Who are you, then? Sorry, I haven’t had a chance to look at my information sheet yet.”

“Sherlock,” I told him. “Sherlock Holmes.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, Sherlock,” John said with a smile, obviously smiling about my unusual name.

I looked him over, and began to deduce him. Nicely built, from a middle class family, doesn’t work out that often, aside from at rugby practise, but is very fit. Father is in the army, and his mother is a retail worker. “Can I use your phone?” I asked him suddenly.

“Oh, erm, yeah, here,” he pulled a phone out of his pocket, and I quickly sent a text, before handing his phone back to him.

“Your father is at war, yes? Which one? Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“…Afghanistan, sorry, how did you know?”

“When’s he returning then?”

“December… Erm, how did you know about that?”

“Again, I didn’t know, I noticed.” I sighed again as I saw his confused and curious facial expression. “Your haircut, the way your hold yourself says military, so obviously your being influenced by your father, who is currently serving our country, in Afghanistan. Your father is a good man, and he is your role model so you want to be like him as much as possible, and try to look after your family as best as possible while he’s away. Obviously your parents are worried, so they took advantage of your opportunity and here you are, taking a break from all that other stress.

“Then there’s your brother. Your phone- its expensive, email enabled, mp3 player. But you’re here on a rugby scholarship, your parents wouldn’t waste money on this. It’s a gift, then. Scratches, not one, many over time. It’s been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man standing opposite me wouldn’t treat his one luxury item like this, so it’s had a previous owner. The next bit’s easy. You know it already.” I took a breath and looked at him expectantly.

“The… Engraving?”

I nodded. “ Harry Watson- clearly a family member who’s given you his old phone. Not your father- this is a young man’s gadget. Could be a cousin, though I doubt it. Unlikely you have any extended family, certainly not one you’re close to, so brother it is.” I continued on about the romantic attraction between Clara and Harry, and their separation and how John doesn’t like Harry, possibly because he liked Harry’s girlfriend, maybe he doesn’t like the alcoholism, and then stopped and took a deep breath.

John stared at me in shock. I waited for him to punch me in the face, but it didn’t happen. “That was… Amazing,” he told me.

“You think so?”

“Yes, it was extraordinary… Quite extraordinary.”

“That’s not what people usually say.”

“What do people usually say then?”

“Piss off.”

We both chuckled about that together. Maybe, just maybe, I could grow fond of John. 

All Rights Reserved.