Dwindle

Chapter Four

Sherlock was lying down on the sofa when John came home from his afternoon class. His legs were perched up on the arm rest and his hands were folded under his chin as if he were praying. Staring up at the ceiling, he seemed to be unaware of John's very presence.

"Uh." John cleared his throat, "Hello."

Sherlock said nothing as he continued to gaze heavenward.

"How was your tour?" John asked, hoping to start a conversation. The younger man didn't reply, so John tried again, "I'm going to make some tea, do you want anything?"

After a beat of silence, John sighed and began to walk away, but he stopped mid-step and turned back around, "So this is how it's going to be?" His irritation was evident, "The silent treatment? Newsflash, Sherlock: we live together now. So I suggest we try to make this work and God help me, I will not try by myself. So either you get a grip or-" he stopped himself from continuing. He knew he'd regret saying what was on his mind, so he simply walked out of the room.

Stepping into the kitchen he leaned against the counter.

Why me? He asked himself as he rubbed his tired eyes. Why is it always me?

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Sherlock arrived to his mathematics class twenty-five minutes late.

"Nice of you to join us, Mr...." The professor looked down at his clipboard, "....Holmes. For future reference, Mr. Holmes, I do not tolerate tardiness in my class. You would do well to remember that." He looked back to the rest of the class as Sherlock took a seat, "Now, back to what I was saying....."

Sherlock looked down at his schedule.

Tuesday-
1:00-2:30- Mathematics (Anderson)
5:15-7:00- European History (Stamford)

He rolled his eyes at the second class scheduled. Mycroft had insisted that he take that class. "It's the perfect opportunity to learn of your heritage, Sherlock!" He had exclaimed while signing his brother up for the course, "Mike Stamford is an excellent teacher! And I don't say that lightly." 

If there was one class that Sherlock was rubbish at; it was history. 

He just never applied himself to the subject and never wanted to, saying that he ought to put more useful things in his head. 

The hour left in class slowly ticked by and when it was finally over, Sherlock was the first to leave.

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The next week went by in a blur.

Sherlock went to his classes all week, but other than that, he just stayed locked up in his room. He didn't see John once and was excessively relieved. He relished in his solitude and wasn't bothered a single time. John knew when he wasn't wanted. 

One evening, about a week and a half after the semester had begun, the doorbell rang.

John got up from his dinner and opened the door to see Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper, back from the summer holiday.

"John Watson!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, pulling the younger man into a tight hug. He hugged her back without hesitation, "How are you, John? How was your summer?"

"It was fine, thank you. What about you?" He asked, leading her into the kitchen.

"Oh. You know." She smiled as John handed her a steaming cup of tea, "Very unproductive." John chuckled. "Now that I'm back though..." She looked around the messy room and clicked her tongue, "We have a lot of work to do. Oh!" She looked up suddenly, "That reminds me!"

She quickly walked out of the room and out the front door. After a few moments, she came back carrying two cases. One was a grey suitcase and the other was a small, shiny black case.

"Mycroft Holmes sent some of his brother's belongings with me. Some clothes and his violin." She gestured to the black case that apparently held the violin. "How is the boy?" She asked as John took the cases.

"I wouldn't know." He sighed, "I haven't seen him all week. I think he's avoiding me."

"Avoiding you?" Mrs. Hudson asked , eyebrows raised, "Perhaps you're doing the same?" John shrugged.

"I'll take this to his room. I'm not sure if he's here or not..." He walked down the short hallway and knocked on the door, "Sherlock?" He called, "Sherlock I have some stuff for you from your brother." When no one answered, he knocked again, "I'm coming in, okay?" He slowly opened up the door and stepped inside. 

When he looked around, he was hit with a pleasant smell; cologne and peppermint. The aroma was surprising, considering the state the room was in. Dirty clothes were strewn on the bed, books were piled on the floor, and John's old desk held many strange tubes and bottles  in what looked like a science experiment. Sherlock, himself, was not inside, so John simply set down the student's belongings and left the room, closing the door behind him.

When he came back into the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson was washing the dishes.

"You don't have to do that...." he began.

"It's my job!" She sang. He smiled and began drying as she handed him a wet, clean mug.

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The week before, Mike Stamford had not been in class. A substitute had lazily encouraged the class to do what ever they wanted, which had been fine with Sherlock. He just stayed to himself and studied the people around him.

This week, however, Professor Stamford greeted each student as they came through the door.

"Hello!" He smiled, "How are you? Yes, yes. Take a seat. Take a seat." He plopped down behind his desk and began taking attendance. Once he got to Sherlock's name, he paused and looked up, "Sherlock, huh? Why. Aren't you Dr. Watson's roommate? He and I go way back! We were at Bart's together! I guess we'll be seeing quite a bit of each other." A few of the students snickered, but Mike didn't seem to notice. Sherlock said nothing and the professor continued with the attendance.

When the class finished, Sherlock walked out and began heading home.

"Hey you!" A girl's voice rang out behind him, "Oi!" Sherlock turned to see who she was talking to. To his surprise, it was him. She jogged up to him, followed by three guys from their class, "So you stay with Watson, huh?" She grinned, "Why's that?"

Sherlock considered ignoring her, but decided against it as he studied her, "What's it to you?"

"Oh I see," She smiled, giving one of her friend's a knowing look, "Better not get caught. That could land you both in a lot of trouble." Her smile was anything but friendly.

"What are you implying?" He sighed, with a bored tone.

"Implying?" She laughs dryly as her friends snickered, "Well, we all have are own ways to get good grades. Yours is a bit bold, don't you think?" Sherlock paled as he realized what she meant.

"You would know all about that, wouldn't you?" He sneered, "How does Professor Anderson treat you? Do you sleep with him for the benefits, or do you just enjoy each other's company?" 

The girl gaped at him, "What did you just say to me, freak?" She growled and one of the boys stepped forward.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I think you heard me." All three boys began walking towards him.

"Shouldn't have gone there, freak." One of the boys said. Sherlock began backing away as all four approached him.

"You should think before you make accusations like that." Another said

Sherlock's back hit a tree. There was nowhere else to go.

Crap.