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

Chapter 3 - DONE

John sat quietly in his sister's car, watching the grass glide seamlessly by as Harry drove up the gritty driveway of Baskerville Boarding School. Having tried engaging in conversation but failing miserably, she fell silent halfway through as John silently let his gaze get dragged through the hazy colours of the greens, lilacs and sky blues, with clouds somewhat thrown in every now and again.

She turned into a parking space, a tad haphazardly but inline nonetheless, and paused for a second, biting her scarlet bottom lip. "Well... we're here!" She said, in a half-cheery voice that fooled no-one as the corners of her lips turned down. "...You ready?"

John muttered a yes, before pushing the car door and stepping foot onto the place that would soon become his new home for the majority of the year. To be honest, he was only here because his dad out of nowhere decided that Ansford Secondary was "a crappy school that doesn't encourage people like you, John, to get on with football", and put his name forward for Baskerville. His mum, like always, didn't get a say. John tried. He got punished. He didn't try again.

John shuffled awkwardly in his brogues and slacks, his gaze drawn to every individual grain of grit as Harry clumsily got of out her tattered car, pushing the boot open and dragging out a heavy, worn suitcase as he clutched to his slim laptop case like it was a lifeline.

Taking the weight of the case off Harry, he stood there, in front of her, for a few moments before she took a step forward and wrapped her arms around him. Her perfume clung to his senses, dredging in his mind as he hopelessly clung onto the familiar scent of home whilst he fumbled for words. "Harry... take care" was what fell out of his lips, as she patted his head and mumbled a "you too" back to him.

Just as she backed up after a minute or so of this hug with so many things left unsaid and unheard, other words fell out, tripping over one another in the rush to be said. "Harry, look after mum for me. Please. Check up on her. Call her. Every day. Please."

She smiled sadly, nodding as she turned around, leaving the hint of tears at her eyes to John's imagination. It was terrifying, actually terrifying, to see Harry so depressed; she was normally so upbeat and in everyone's faces. John turned around, a sigh breaking through his lips as his gaze ran over the boarding school. Baskerville looked unbelievably depressing; its towering grey stone blocks matched the slate grey sky. There were students walking around, always in groups. There was no one alone, like John.

With a weary sigh, John dragged his case up through the gates and through the main hall. He looked around, at the grey, classy interior that bore the marks of wealth and age; where the hell did he have to go now?

"Hello. Is your name John Watson?" The call of his name briskly caused John to turn around back to the door, where a taller, older boy with a gleaming Head Boy badge pinned to his blazer was standing by the doorway with a clipboard and a pen in his pocket. John nodded.

"My name is Mycroft Holmes, and I'm Head Boy here. It's a pleasure to have you attend here, John." His eyes raked him up and down in an instant, catching on the cuffs of his sleeves and the tips of his brogues, as if taking everything in about him. Leading John up the grandeur staircase, he spoke in the same brisk manner he used to greet John. "Now, the first thing to do is to get you to your assigned room. It will be shared with another boy, and the rules are: no sexual activity, no recreational drugs, the usual." Weariness lined his face, and his voice had gained a slight monotone edge to it. He rubbed his mouth slightly. "Okay, let me see here..." He sifted through the papers attatched to the clipboard against his chest, his eyes falling down the papers until he seemed to recognise somehting. "Alright. Timetable. Dorm key. School map." As each item was named, said item was placed into John's fumbling hands. "Your dorm is Room 22, in Ward 1B. Your roommate is Sherlock Holmes. He is my brother", he continued briskly, not bothering to look at John, though he paused hesitantly before bringing his gaze to meet John's, "and I must warn you he doesn't... match social conventions."

John shrugged. He'd probably never see the guy anyway; he was probably some World of Warcraft geek, if he went against the social norm-- then again, nearly anything these days went against social norms. The first thing he asked was something that had been on the front of his mind since he'd stepped foot in the halls. "So where do I go if I need to... get help, or talk to someone?"

Mycroft paused, his footsteps halting on the carpeted wooden flooring. "Teachers are available, and a counsellor is next to the staff room." He made to take another step, but seemed to rethink something, and turned back to John. "If it's something more... personal, my dorm is Room 11, Ward 2C", and without another word he kept walking, leaving a quite confused John dragging his suitcase with slight difficulty as it caught on the edge of the carpet.

10 seconds later, John's new dorm was right in front of him; his new home for the next couple of years. The doorframe rattled every 5 seconds, a loud thump echoing against the door, leaving John wondering what the hell could be going on in there. Mycroft didn't seem to notice it, and knocked twice.

"Go away Mycroft!" a voice yelled from inside the dorm; John, startled, looked at seemingly bored Mycroft with confusion-- how had he known that it was his brother simply from a knock?

"Mycroft!" Both boys turned around to find a sandy coloured haird boy jogging up to them, dressed in slacks and with his sleeves rolled up. He came to a stop, before sticking out his hand and smiling with sincerity. "Greg Lestrade. Captain of football team". John took it with a smile, shaking it a couple times before the handshake broke. Turning back to Mycroft with a slightly wider smile, Greg waved his hands about. "I was wondering if you could help me with maths. Algebra's the worst and I'm stuck on some stupid fraction." Mycroft nodded, before twisting the door of John's dorm, clearing avoiding Sherlock Holmes' yell, and pushing the door open. Just before the door swung open fully and before Mycroft and Greg walked away in a comfortable conversation, Greg leaned in towards John and murmured, "I saw your dormmate is Sherlock, and mate, try not to punch him".

John had approximately 0.6 seconds to think why would he punch him before the door swung back on its hinges and he met Sherlock Holmes for the second time in one day.

A/N: For Americans: Football = soccer

THIS type of football:

http://www.redr.org.uk/filemanager/root/site_assets/new_website/support_us/fundraising_photos/football-players-in-match.jpg