College!Lock: Untitled: Chapter 1

                                                       Chapter one
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Sherlock Holmes was never someone anyone took very seriously, nor was he someone people laughed at. He was more of just the quiet nobody that everyone steered away from. He never seemed to mind, keeping to himself in the back corner of the library or the last table in the cafeteria. He was always keeping his nose buried in some bloody book, weather studying or just reading some randomly picked book from the library, he was always doing something to feed his hunger for knowledge.

The gray school jacket was always wrapped around him, buttoned only by the bottom two, covering his navy blue pollo. His gray pants were always perfectly ironed, like the rest of his ensemble. His messy black hair seemed so out of place, sticking up in a curly mess literally everywhere on his head. His face was unreadable every moment of every day, only changing when the flashes of anger cross his eyes. He knew he was the bottom of everyone's jokes, he knew it should bother him, but it simply didn't. Too many experienced years of torture stood between him and actually feeling the pain, although he was getting sick and tired of it all.

He slowly drew on his cigaret, closing his eyes as the smoke filled his scenes. He restfully let the smoke out threw his nostrils and sat back on the bench in the almost abandoned courtyard. He rested back on his hand, twisting the cigaret carefully between his finger in the other, watching as people rushed past to their dorms. Cramming for tests, catching up on homework, and partying into the small hours of the night; and all before the first week of school even ended. Sherlock smirked as he watched the rush, crushed his cigaret under his heel, and stood, stretching his back. 

It was all so sad, how normal people carried on their lives. There was never any reason to party, especially for the start of a new school year at this dump. It was mostly the freshmen, their first year out at College, away from home. Their first real taste of freedom. Pathetic. 

Shoving his hands in his  coat pockets, he glided back towards his dorm, planning on calling it a night and curling up to read a good book one more time.

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John Watson, with his sandy blond hair and dazzling blue eyes, was up there in the popularity ranks, and damn did he know it. He never took advantage of anyone, never crushed anyone or tried to hurt them; in fact, if you ask anyone, he was the nicest person in L&MCFB, and maybe thats what created his popularity. Either way, if you weren't friends with John Watson, you were a no body. 

Of course, John had his close circle of friends, as everyone did, and they all sat in front of him, piled on a couch that could crumble all of them in a matter of seconds. John stared at his friends in amusement as they  chatted among themselves, some holding beer bottles, and some, coke cans. John sat there, his cheek rested on his hand, sipping on a bottle of water, he never cared much for beer or coke.

Mark sat on the arm of the couch, laughing obnoxiously loud. His deep chocolate hair was swept messily to the side, making it look wind-blown. His emerald green eyes were crinkled at the corners and his cheeks were slightly colored from all the beer he's been drinking. He took another long swig and a little dribbled down his chin onto his dirty white tank top, a little running to his pitch black pants. Dressed in his casual wear, he took another long swig of beer and almost spit it out as he laughed again.

Chase sat next to him, his red hair drooped down to his shoulders and his hazel eyes glistened at the sight of Mark drunk off his ass. A coke can was set lazily on his lap, one hand wrapped around it's dampened exterior to hold it from falling. He was still dressed in his school uniform, the blazer left draped across his lap. He laughed harder still as Mark almost fell off his seat on the arm of the couch. 

Kevin was next, drinking a coke as well and just sort of listening to the conversations around him. He was a quiet guy until really feeling like he had to say something. His hair was scalp short with black stubs just visible. His brown eyes were fixed on his coke can and he was just sort of zoned out, listening. 

Next to him was Ash and Matt. Twins with dazzling Green eyes. Ash had top of ear length hair that was dirty blond in color while Matt held top of neck hair and white-as-snow hair.

L&MFB (Law & Medicine College For Boys) was a smaller campus then most of the normal colleges, but the school had about 1,000 boys in the tenth grade class. They all majored, in some way, in Law or Medicine, weather they had a special talent for that field or just happened to have a parent who was big in that area. They had all gotten in on special requests or scholar ships, so they were all here for the seriousness. Of course, on the off days they actually had time after class, who could resist messing around with their free time?

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Sherlock entered his dorm, hearing the chatter from down the hallway on his way in. Apparently all the boys on this floor - the floor holding about eight boys - decided to go have a party at John's place. Sherlock shook his head in disapproval and opened the door, locking it firmly behind him. All the dorms on this small floor held only one person each, they were the special dorms for the top-of-class students. Of course, John's best friends were the top-of-class kids, in both Law and Medicine. Well, everyone but Sherlock, who was just unluckily placed there. 

He sat in the brown leather arm chair that rested in the back corner by a standing lamp, flicking the light on. He picked up the top book on the small pile that sat upon the wooden table next to the chair, opening it to the first page. He read the book fairly quickly, only taking about three hours on the four hundred fifty three page book. He shut it with a satisfied smack and set it on the top of the pile yet again. 

Stapling his hands under his chin, he looked around at his messy room. First week in and it was already looking like a tornado has swept through. Shoes scattered in a corner, shirts littering the floor, underwear hanging off the chairs and bedposts, and books in every known little nook and cranny he could possibly stuff them in. He never had much else to do in this place but read, seeing school came naturally to him and he had memorized the textbooks a month in advance. There was never any need to study or look over notes or cram for those tests, everything he may need to know was already known. 

He looked up at the bear walls, staring at their dull dirty-white appearance. The only thing that suggested anyone actually lived here, besides the obvious clothes everywhere, was the clippings of newspaper tacked to the wall. Above the bed, on the ceiling, under the window, above and around the desk, many clippings of newspapers articles and pictures of crime scenes. A few numbers or words were scribbled here and there in messy handwriting in bright blue pen, but otherwise nothing was touched. Just clipped and hung. 

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John fought the urge to keep his eyes shut, pealing them open slowly and regratfully. He blinked into the sun that rushed into his room through the curtains and quickly covered his eyes with his forarm. He sat up groggly, turning his back on the blinding rays, and stood up from bed. He started shuffling to the bathroom, looking down at a figure passed out on his floor. 

"Mark..." John yawned, kicking him slightly. "Mark!" He kept poking him with his toe till Mark opened his eyes and glared at him. "Time to get up you lazy ass." John muttered, stepping over him and shuffling towards the bathroom. 

Mark sat up, holding his head. "What the fuck man? I was having an awesome dream. I just got out of having sex with this hot blond and-"

"Yeah, that's great." John cut him off, too tired to hear his friend's arousle story. 

"You know what the best part is?" Mark asked, poking his head into John's bathroom as John stuck the toothbrush into his mouth. "It was with your girlfriend." 

John spit and stared at Mark angrily. "I should kill you!" He growled, gripping his toothbrush with  painful force. 

Mark laughed at John's anger and closed the door. John grunted as he heard the front door slam shut and went back to - now angrily - brushing his teeth. He hated his friends talking dirty about his girlfriend, or joking with him about her. He was very serious about her and wished they would just back off. It was none of their damn business to be fucking with her, even in their dreams.

John spit out the white foam and cleaned his tooth brush, whipping a drop of left-over paste from his chin and placing the brush in it's holder. He capped the toothpaste and ran a comb through his sandy-blond hair a few times to get it looking just perfect. Then, smiling in the mirror with approval, he went out to get changed. 

He striped quickly of his pajama pants and white top, discarding them on the bed near the pillow. He pulled off his boxer briefs, placing them in a basket he had by his bed of his dirty laundry, and strod over to his case of clothes and other items he needed through he days of L&MCFB. He pulled on a clean pair of boxer briefs, along with a clean pair of the school gray pants. He went back to the bathroom with his navy shirt in hand, keeping the gray blazer on his bed. He looked at himself in the mirror, examining his toned body. His abs were perfectly defined and his shoulders and biceps were toned so perfectly that he looked so much like a body builder rather then a medical honors student. He pulled on the navy polo, examining how it squeezed his muscles perfectly, outlining his abs and biceps so they showed off perfect in a flaunting way. He knew he shouldn't care, being at an all-boys school and all, but he always wanted to look amazing, and damn did he with those muscles. 

John sighed deeply and, with one last glance in the mirror, flattening the last wrinkle in his polo and picking up his gray blazer. Sighing it onto his shoulders, he snatched his keys from the bowl by the door, slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, and slammed the door behind him. John looked up and down the halls, empty as almost always, except down the hall, where Sherlock was locking his door behind him. 

Sherlock turned towards John, his uniform snug against his slender form, and just gave him a quick glare. Then he was gone, around a corner that separated their hall from the rest of the floor. Four rooms lined this hall, four on the other side, separated by a strip of hallway leading to the elevator. Their floor was basically three lines all connected in the middle, very strange set up.

John, after he heard the elevator ding shut behind, what he presumed was, Sherlock, he started towards the elevator himself. His hand rested lightly on the connection of his bag to it's shoulder strap and felt so weighed down by school books and papers. 

He reached the elevators, pressing the button then looking down at his shoes, pitch black in color and laced tightly. Shifting his weight to his other leg, the elevator dinged open and there stood Sherlock Holmes. John shot him a questioning look as he stepped out of the elevator.

"Forgot something, not that isn't any of your business anyway." Sherlock snapped as he pushed John out of his way with his shoulder. 

John just stared after the retreating boy as he stepped into the open elevator and pressed the first floor button. As the doors slid shut, Sherlocks shadow had disappeared behind the dividing wall. John shrugged the shoulder in which Sherlock ran into in his passing, loosening it from the slight blow, and felt the elevator slowly fall as he made his way from the fifth floor down.

He exited the elevator to find Mark and Chase standing by the huge water fountain that blocked the middle of the sidewalk entering the section 'B' dorms. A large pen sat on the top, spewing water out of where the ink normally came out of, into the large pool of water below. Coins simmered in the morning light at the bottom. 

He made his way over to Mark and Chase, urging his encounter with Sherlock out of his mind. 

"Hey man! You ready?" Chase asked, his polo full of wrinkles as though he had slept in it.

"Yeah, what do we have first?" John questioned, more to himself then to either of them.

"Chemistry, then The History of Modern Medicine right after." Mark chimed in, reading off a small slip of paper with illegible scribbles covering it in black ink. 

"And I have Law Theory while you guys do that. But we all seem to have Chemistry together." Chase looked at his own paper. 

"Awesome!" John started towards the Chemistry labs. 

Chase had been entered into the Law half of L&MCFB while himself and Mark were in the Medicine half. Almost everyone else on their floor had seemed to not have class this early in the morning, all but Sherlock, who seemed to be running late. Their first Friday in the Hell-hole of College with two new classes for the day, the last thing you wanted was to be late, especially this early in the morning. The teachers seemed to really be in a pissy mood when that happens. 

John, Mark and Chase slipped into the lab just as the bell signaled to be seated. The professor waltzed into the room minutes after from a door behind his desk and scribbled something that looked like his name onto the board, then turned and beamed up at the class.

A man of about thirty-two, the professor had short pitch-black hair that reached no lower then the middle of his forehead. He was dressed in the teacher's black polo and white pants and had a dog tag necklace on a chain around his neck.  He took a moment to look over the class.

"Well, good morning students!" He boomed in a little bit of a too-perky voice. John heard Mark snicker. "Welcome to the Chemistry lab! I shall call roll then we have a few things to go over before we move into the actual properties of the chemical elements I'm sure you're all dying to hear about!"

There were a few mutters of something like 'yeah right...' that Mr. Waters (as the board displayed his name to be) seemed to have ignored.

"Okay, let's see what we have here... Douglas Anderson?" 

There was a slight 'here' from somewhere behind John as he started to zone out. The list of names continued on for a while with the slight calls of their owner's confirmed presents. John slumped over on his stool, his cheek pressed against his hand rested on the counter as he fought the overwhelming urge to go back to sleep. 

Halfway through the list of names, the door loudly creaked open. Mr. Waters paused in the roll-call and looked over to the door as Sherlock Holmes' stalky form slowly entered the room. 

"Ah, your later Mr...." 

"Holmes." Sherlock answered in a flat tone that told John he wanted to be anywhere but here. Acting like it was just a waste of his time. "-Sherlock- Holmes." 

"Ah, yes, Mr. Holmes. Please, find yourself a seat quickly." Sherlock took the first seat in the first row, closest to the teacher's desk and pulled out his Chemistry text book and a very abused black pen, that was bent in a way no pen should be bent with any farther expectations of use. Sherlock pulled out a notebook, opened it to a (clearly random) page and placed the pen on top, waiting for Mr. Waters to continue. 

"Yes, now, John Watson?" 

John sat up and called, "Here." Then went back to slumping in his desk. 

"Yes, glad to see your excitement... And of course, out good friends, Mr. Holmes is here. Late, but here..." He made a brief note in the binder he held, then snapped it shut with a crack that echoed in the room, quieting any muttering that may have been occurring. "Now then, now that that tedious task is done with, let me point out some important little safety  per-cautions that are stationed around the room. Fire extinguishers and blankets are stationed in three different parts of the room-" 

John tuned out the lecture and glanced around the room over the heads. His eyes suddenly met Sherlock's, who had turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder right at John. John paused at Sherlock's gaze, who eventually diverted it back to Mr. Waters and John was stuck staring at the black curly hair sitting on the back of his head. Why was Sherlock Holmes staring at -him-?