Sherlock 1. School

**Okay. Teen!lock. Been there, done that. But, hey, I dunno, I kinda like it, so I decided to do something about it  
**

**There probably won't be any romance of sorts, but maybe as the story progresses. What will they be? I dunno…**

**I'll be leaving little subliminal references here and there, so see if you can spot them. :P**

* * *

_Be good, Sherlock. Make some friends, Sherlock. Don't get into too much trouble, Sherlock._ As much as he loved his parents (the only people he'd ever admit to loving), going to a new school mid-term always made Sherlock want to gag. They gave his the same advice over and over, yet they never seemed to grow tired of it and he never wanted to stop gagging.

This school would be different, though. It was a boarding school, and that would hopefully keep him away from the distractions, namely his brothers and the absence of his dog, Redbeard, who was sadly euthanized two years before hand.

Sherlock hopped out of his parent's car as soon as they pulled up to the curb. The early January air nipped at the Holmes' cheeks as they stepped out of the car and into the inch-thick snow. Grabbing his backpack, two roller suitcases and violin case out of the trunk, the thirteen-almost-fourteen-year-old braced himself for the oncoming storm of hugs.

"I love you, Sherlock." His mum was close to tears, squeezing him tightly.

"…Love you too, mum." He mumbled back, returning a not-quite-as-strong hug and a kiss on the cheek.

He turned to his dad, who just gave him a reassuring clap on the shoulder and a smile that said several things at once, namely "I'm going to miss you" and "Don't do anything stupid".

He gave a half-smile back and rolled his suitcase up through the cleared walkway to the administration building. As he opened the door, he heard the car doors shut and an engine start, the tires squealing as his slightly lead-footed father drove the car away.

Sherlock walked up to the front desk and tapped on it, gaining the woman's attention. "Yes?" She said, flashing a smile.

_What an alarming shade of pink she's wearing…_ He thought to himself as he said, "My name is Sh- _William_ Holmes, and I'm new here…" He always hated the next part.

"Oh! Well, Mr. Holmes, let's see here…" She tapped away on her computer for something before turning back with an even wider smile. "Right then, I just sent your schedule to the printer; it should be out any moment now. I'll call your new dorm-mate up so he can show you around!" She rolled her chair over to a desk phone and pushed the intercom button, saying, "Will Mr. Watson come to the front desk? Mr. John Watson to the front desk, please."

A few minuets of ignoring the secretary later, a boy about a head shorter than Sherlock came in through the secondary entrance. His face, arms and shirt were muddy, his light brown hair messy and vaguely resembling a bedhead, and a slight limp that favored his left leg. "Yes, Mrs. Wilson?" He said innocently, though the look in his eyes was enough to kill someone.

"Hiiiiii," Mrs. Wilson drawled out the vowel long enough to make both children sick to their stomachs. "John, this is your new dorm mate, William Holmes." Sherlock cringed at the sound of his first mane coming from her mouth. "Can you show him to your room and make him feel at home here? Oh, and be sure to pick up his schedule on the way out."

"Sure." John smiled at Sherlock, then began walking towards the door he came through. Once they were on the other side, he said, "You got Mrs. Wilson. What a great way to start out the year."

"There's another secretary, and you, along with most of the student body, I'm guessing, like the other better." It wasn't a question.

"Yea, Mrs. Hudson's a billion times better than her, but she's getting on in years so she can't come to work every day." John said. "I think the only reason why Mrs. Wilson's still here is because she might be having an affair with the principal. Along with a new guy every other week."

"I could've guessed." Sherlock stated with a bored expression.

John snorted. "Really? How?"

"Same way I know that you play rugby, judging by the amount of mud on your arms and legs and recently injured your leg, which caused your slight limp, but didn't want anyone on your team to know about it, so you toughed it out. You also recently got dumped by someone you were seriously interested in; the bags under your eyes indicate you lost sleep over it; got into an argument with someone else you're close to on your way over; there was a slight strain in your voice and murderous look in your eyes, probably because you have a bit of a temper; and had something jam-filled for lunch today, judging by the jam still on your cheek." Sherlock mentally slapped himself for doing the exact opposite of what his parents told him to do. He registered John's mouth dropping open as he grabbed his schedule from the printer. He braced himself for what would come next…

"That…was amazing."

_Okay, wasn't expecting that._ "…Really?"

"Yes! That was brilliant!" John grinned. "I've never seen anyone do anything like that before!"

"That's not the normal response…"

"What is the normal response?"

"…'Piss off!'"

John laughed, stopping at the door. "So…I'm assuming you don't like to be called William…"

Sherlock nodded. "Quite right. I prefer to go by Sherlock."

"Sherlock? Any particular reason why? N-not that it's a bad thing, to go by another name, but…"

"It's one of my middle names. I detest my first name and only use it when talking to faculty and staff at schools."

The shorter boy just nodded and opened the door, leading the way from there to their dorm, room 221. The dorm had two beds and two desks on either wall, the left side of the room being occupied by various objects and the right side mostly blank. "It's a bit of a mess, but it's home." John moved a few things that had spilled over to the other side of the room to their rightful places. "So, um, that's your bed, this one's mine…"

Sherlock sat on the bed (slept on by someone else; John had another roommate(?)) and pulled his bags closer to him. "Will there be time to see the campus tomorrow?"

"Yea, term doesn't start until next week." John sat in his desk chair and spun in it a bit. "But, there's still light out. I can introduce you to my team, if you want."

"I suppose that would be nice, though I'm still wondering how rugby teams are able to practice in winter."

"One of the teachers clears off the fields early morning whenever it snows. I'm not entirely sure who, though, but I'm glad." John stood and grabbed a sports jacket with the number '05' on the back and pulled it on. "The boys should be happy to meet you, though they might be a bit rough."

Sherlock nodded. "I take it you're the captain of the team, then?"

John smiled. "Yea, St. Bart's Fusiliers. Notorious for nearly winning each time since it's first founding; that's why we decided to practice through winter, so we might be able to pull through and win one." He opened the door and stepped outside, his new roommate trailing behind as they went out to the field of Saint Bartholomew's Boarding School.


	2. Rugby

**Special thanks to those who favorited, followed, and reviewed! Extra special thanks to those who actually takes time out of their day to read this! :P**

**This chapter is nowhere near where I'd like it to be, but it was either get this chapter out now as-is or be a jerk and not release it for, like, another month. School's coming up for me, so I won't be able to write as often. :/ But I will try to write when I can. :)  
**

* * *

John and Sherlock walked through the doors to where the fields were when the snow slowly began to fall. Out on the surprisingly clear fields was a group of boys that appeared to just be tackling each other into the dirt. "Bit small to be a full team." Sherlock whispered to himself.

"Heard that." John rolled his eyes. "Anyway, some of the team went home for the holidays, but we wanted to continue practicing anyway. This is also the younger kids' team; there's a rougher version for Years 10 through 13, though I might just stick around and coach this one–"

"Head's up, Watson!" A ball came flying through the air and almost hit John in the face, but he caught it just in time.

"Come on, Bill, thought you were above throwing things at people's faces!" John shouted to a boy a bit taller than him who was running across the field. It was hard to tell what color the boy's hair really was, as there was a ton of mud in it that made it look brown if it wasn't already, and his eyes were squinting against the wind so Sherlock couldn't see those either. 'Bill' put the shorter boy in a headlock and started rubbing his scalp with his fist, encouraging shouts of protest from him until he was able to wiggle out of his grasp. "Don't put your captain in a headlock! I _can_ have you kicked off the team."

"But you won't." Bill smirked. "And besides, I'm above throwing things at people's faces without warning. With warning, I'm all for it." He laughed at his own joke and turned to Sherlock, who he apparently just noticed. "And who's this?"

"Sherlock Holmes." He extended his hand, which the other boy took. "I'm John's new roommate."

"Bill Murray." He introduced himself. "So you're not his boyfriend, then?"

"I'm _not_ gay!" John shouted, trying to straighten out his hair. "Why does everyone keep saying that?!"

Bill laughed and clapped his friend on the back. "Oh, come on, mate, it's just a joke." He turned back to Sherlock and asked, "So, you do any sports?"

"…I do the violin." He mumbled, looking away.

"Violin's not bad." John said. "I do clarinet myself, when I'm not playing rugby, that is." Sherlock gave a ghost of a smile when the snow started coming down harder. "Ah, better wrap this up, then." The team captain cleared his throat and shouted, "Practice is over for today!" His team was one step ahead of him; they had begun wrapping it up when the first snowflake fell.

"Well, see ya tomorrow, John. Better rest up." Bill clapped his friend on the shoulder and walked back to the dorms, grabbing a sports bag on the way back.

"I've just gotta grab my things, then we can go." John told Sherlock, walking over to a pile of sports bags and picking one up. The wind started to pick up and the snow started to come down even harder as he came back, trying his hardest not to slide against the ground as the wind pushed against him. He and Sherlock somehow made it to the hallway where they silently thanked the building for it's indoor hallways to the dorms.

"I bet practice'll be canceled tomorrow if this weather keeps up," John said glumly as they approached their dorm. "Then I'll actually have a reason to practice my clarinet like the instructor told us to."

"You don't like playing?" Sherlock asked, curios.

John opened the door to 221 and shook off what remaining snow there was from his arms and legs. "Not as much as rugby. I'd hoped that I could make the excuse of being too busy to practice. Just the look on her face would've been hilarious!"

Sherlock chuckled softly and closed the door behind him. "Do all the instruments have the same instructor?"

"Yea, they just have different days where they go into practice, and on Saturday there's the optional full-band meeting."

"So do you only do clarinet and rugby?"

John nodded. "What about you? Do you only do violin?"

Sherlock bit his lip. "No, I also do…" The rest of the sentence was incoherent.

"Sorry what?"

"I also do drama and dancing."

* * *

**Bum bum bum! Cliffhanger! Ish… I didn't want to leave it at that, but look up at the first author's note to why I did.****  
**

**Oh, and for those of you who don't know, Bill Murray is a legit character in the Sherlock-verse, though he was only mentioned/comments on John's blog. He's the nurse who fixed up John's shoulder. Expect more character cameos in the following chapters!**


	3. --Sorry for the deletion--

**Hello again! I'm not quite sure what happened, but this story somehow got deleted. But, I found it again, so here it is! :D**


End file.

Sherlock, Family, Friendship