Dorm 221B: Teenlock Fanfiction

Part One: Chapter Three

John closed the door behind him made his way over to his bed. He began to pack away his school books into the standard issue shoulder bag, provided by the school. It was made of a dark leather, with the school’s emblem and motto stamped on the front. A hedgehog, an otter, a rat and a hound were locked in battle on the crest. Not one that John thought would have an epic conclusion. He would have much preferred the school to have mightier animal representatives, like the lion and serpent at Hogwarts. Beneath the crest were the words; Vincit Semper Veritas. The slung it over his shoulder and made for the door.  He personally felt that the bag was an insult to his manhood, but he put up with it anyway. He reached to turn the handle and frowned. It wouldn’t turn. He jiggled it to no avail. Sherlock must have locked it on the way out. That’s fine, he told himself, I left the keys by the bedside cabinet. He spun around to collect the shining silver key on its little scarlet key ring, with Greg’s messy handwriting displaying the dorm and room number. He blinked in alarm. They were not there. They had been there two minutes ago when he went to brush his teeth. He moved closer to the cabinet and noticed a small slip of paper, a message scrawled on the yellowed page.
“Dear Mr Watson,
If you are reading this, then as I predicted you closed the door behind me, locking yourself in. Unless you spend a ridiculously long time cleaning your teeth, it is safe to assume that you have about thirty minutes before they stop serving breakfast and forty five minutes before you must be present for your first class. If you want to make those, than I wish you good luck.
Don’t worry, I haven’t taken your keys with me, they are somewhere in our room, but I fear it will take someone cleverer than you to figure out the puzzle I’ve left you. No offence.
Good luck Mr Waston, and I shall see you when I return from my lessons at three fifteen.
S.H.”

John read it though twice, breathing hard. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t do that. Could he? Calm down John, he told himself, Just think, where would he hide your keys. An idea came to him. It was simple. Sherlock wouldn’t have had much time to hide them, so it would have been easy enough to slip the keys under John’s pillow. He lifted it up and frowned. Not the keys, but another note.
“Dear me, Mr Watson,
I’m disappointed you’d think me so obvious as to hide them under your own pillow.
Tut, tut, try again.
S.H.” 

John scowled and scrunched up the note. He was infuriating, and he wasn’t even in the room. John stomped over to the other boy’s bed and tossed aside his pillow and sheets, knocking ‘War and Peace’ to the ground in the process. Another note floated up and John snatched it out of the air.
“Come now Mr Watson,
This is serious. This is most certainly not the time to be playing with my sheets.
S.H.” 

John growled aloud as he read it. Where could he have hidden them. And when did he find the time for this elaborate set up? He crouched down and reached under the bed for Sherlock’s trunk. He flung it open, but before he could begin searching through it he spotted yet another note, written in that same curved handwriting.
“Mr Watson!
Didn’t your mother ever tell you it is rude to go though other people belongings?! How appalling.
S.H.”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to steal,” muttered John as he tossed aside the note. He riffled through Sherlock’s possessions but found no sign of the keys.  Where would he put them? He had an idea and crossed the room, weaving between the tall stacks of books as he did. He picked up Sherlock’s violin, which was sitting in a small stand. John was tempted to play it but he knew he had not had enough practice to play it in a dorm with such thin walls. There was no need to embarrass himself on day one. He shook it lightly. There was not the rattle of keys he had been hoping for, but poking out of the violin was yet another note.
“Well Mr Watson, I’m impressed,
You’re finally trying to think outside the box. Bravo. Shame it won’t help you to find your keys.”
S.H.”

John clenched his fists in frustration. He looked to his clock and saw that it was now 8:17am. He had less than fifteen minutes to find his keys and navigate his way to the dining hall so he could eat. He looked back at the note for a moment, as if waiting for it to reveal a hidden message. Then he blinked. Perhaps it had. He set the note down on Sherlock’s bed and headed to his own wardrobe. He opened it and peered inside. It was empty save his red blazer, with the school crest and a gold stripe across the pocket. He reached for it and shrugged it on. Then he put his hands into the pockets.

Bingo. The keys sat nestled in the left pocket like they’d been there the whole time. John smiled, feeling very proud of himself. There was no note this time. Clearly Sherlock hadn’t counted on him finding them. He took them from his pocket and with a slight swagger, strode to the door, with his bag over his shoulder. He closed the door behind him with a satisfactory click. He checked his wristwatch and smiled. Plenty of time for breakfast.