And Together We Fell (prev. "Teenlock") - An AU Sherlock/Johnlock Fanfic

Chapter 2 - DONE

Sherlock waited impatiently outside his house, the deep annoyance of the lateness of his brother driving his fingers to drum against his leg as he dragged his sports bag behind him. It was small, black, light, and most importantly, inconspicuous, for it carried the more portable of his expensive forensic equipment. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he reached down with his slender fingers to pick it up.

To: Sherlock

From: Mycroft

I'll be late; stuck at Greg's; take the train down. I'll pick you up there. -MH

After spending his last school years sharing a dorm with Greg Lestrade, his brother certainly seemed to be friendlier with him than ever before; he was now even staying at Greg's house at weekends. Sherlock didn't bother replying, and allowed himself to express a deep sigh of annoyance before heading straight down the quiet road to the train station.

He automatically paid for his train ticket and newspaper without a second thought, as this was as routine as brushing his teeth. After waiting a few minutes, the train arrived and Sherlock stepped inside, the warm and humid atmosphere supplying his mind with second thoughts and the thought that maybe he'd be able to jump off now and hitch a ride there?

But ultimately, the fact that Mycroft was already pissed with him won over and Sherlock stayed, looking out of the window longingly as the train started moving. This one made a couple of stops on the way, but he could deal with that.

He remembered the newspaper in his hands, and lifted it up, flicking through it with absolute boredom. Celebrities did drugs, someone wore a dress wrong, a new star found in space, etcetera etcetera. The word dull thrummed at a steady pace through his mind. Page turn. Dull. Page turn. Useless. Page turn. Ugh.

However, just as a news article about a missing plane caught his attention, something knocked heavily against his feet. Sherlock frowned, looking down at his own annoyed face reflecting in his shiny black brogues to see a black laptop case lying there, juddering in sync with the train. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, and glanced up to see where the item came from; no later than a second later, a boy glaring at the case caught his gaze, so Sherlock made the logical assumption that the bag was, of course, his. He smirked when the sandy-haired boy tried turning around but failed miserably, shooting another glare at the laptop case.

Sherlock made to go back to his newspaper, but the boy caught his eye again. This time, Sherlock decided to drink in the details of this person, and considering what had happened to the boy that morning, he decided he might as well help him out. Inwardly sighing at the fact that he was actually going to pick up-- oh, he's doing it, he's picking up the laptop, keeping going Sherlock, you can do this-- the laptop, he pushed his way forward a few steps before hesitating, and then touching the boy's shoulder. He noted the boy turn around with a frown on his face and tension in his shoulder muscle, before staring directly at Sherlock in a somewhat confused manner.

This went on for a few, dragging seconds before Sherlock inwardly sighed, and glared at the boy. He finally caught the message, clumsily grabbing the laptop bag and mumbling thanks. Sherlock strode back to his seat, before picking the newspaper back up and absorbing the little use of the printed text.

Of course, a mere 14 seconds proved too much for Sherlock to hold attention to the paper, and soon his eyes flicked to each person within a 2 metre proximity, drinking in the details of the average person and throwing them away when the uselessness of them sank in.

Sherlock sighed.