The Evanescent Fairy Tale of Sherlock and John {discontinued}

Chapter Two

       +A word not spoken and a touch not yet shared, but with a glance, your cheeks know to prepare themselves for blushing. -Tyler Knott Gregson+

        The first thing I notice is that the dorms more or less resemble miniature apartments. There's a small kitchenette, a little living room that is completely furnished, and two closed doors to the left of the parlor. 

        The second thing I notice is the small, blonde boy sitting in the single chair of the living area. His short legs are pulled up to the side as he scrolls down the screen of his laptop. 

        "Hi. You must be William." The boy looks up, and I have to internally battle to stifle a groan. I had specifically  instructed Mother and Father not to get me a roommate. But as usual, they chose not to listen. 

        "Obviously," I say, voice unenthused. "Call me Sherlock." 

        "I'm John." 

        And obviously he was going to be more talkative and friendly that I had anticipated. It was time to turn on the skills and turn off my dormmate. 

        I clear my throat. "Your hair was cut this morning. There's still a few stray strands on your shirt collar. You also have a girlfriend who recently was visiting. Your lips are swollen, your cheeks are still flushed, and the scent of perfume is quite overwhelming." I shake my head like it would actually get rid of the lingering smell. "You're here on a scholarship, I suspect. Probably a rugby one; there is a new uniform peeking out of your bag. Also, your parents didn't buy you a new laptop for the university, so either they're poor or they don't care."

        "The latter." 

        "What?" 

        "The latter. My parents don't care." 

        "Mm." My eyes drift over him again. "It's obvious now. The bruises on your wrists indicate abu--" I stop after I catch the look on his face. It's of pure wonder, not pure fury that I just revealed a family secret. 

        "That's brilliant," he whispers, pupils lighting up with joy. 

        "Really?" My brow crinkles in confusion.

        "Yeah."

        I grunt. "Not what people normally say." 

        "What do people normally say?"

        "Piss-off." 

        "Well, I can see that possibility too," he chuckles. My entire body seems to freeze. No one has ever praised my skills before, and it quite confounds me. A strange, warm-like feeling spreads up to my cheeks, reddening them with...embarassment? No...this reaction was unknown to me...I couldn't find the specific word to describe it...

        "Um. Well. Thank you," I manage to say. 

        "What else can you do? Other than deduce?" 

        I blink a few times. He knows what deduction is?! Maybe this dormmate arrangement won't be terribly horrendous after all.

        "I have a--uh--mind room where I store important information." 

        "Like what?" 

        "Certain things about certain people." I had already begun to create John's own room. But of course, he didn't have to know that. At that moment in time, I am fully focused on the new mind alcove. It would aid me in establishing a whole mind palace hopefully soon. "And just...relatively important information." 

        "Oh. Okay." John shuts his laptop with an air of finality before he stands. I see now that's he quite short, probably about 5'6. But the way he holds himself makes he seem taller...more confident. The aura of assurance wasn't fully crushing (like his girlfriend's perfume was), but it constituted an ambience of....

        "Military," I state out loud. 

        "What?"

        "Your stance indicates military." 

        "Oh. Yeah." He shifts his weight onto his left leg, slumping to 5'4. In point one two seconds, his confidence seems to shatter greatly.

        "Hm. Surprisingly your parents are okay with it," I reveal. 

        "Surprisingly?" John chuckles a bit, very softly, but I notice the way his blue eyes crinkle up as his mouth turns into a small beam. The small laugh, though, is forced and very unnatrual. 

        "Well, no. That was a wrong word choice." I place my fingertips at my coat collar, and in one swift movement, turn it upwards. The action had been known to make myself appear more mysterious. 

        "Yeah," he nods, noticeably uncomfortable with the conversation. Usually I thrived in vexatious situations, but the air around John had suddenly grown not only bothersome, but also frigid...in a metaphorical sense. 

        "I'm going to unpack." I rush to the door that has the whiteboard with my given birth name scrawled on it. "Did you put this here?" I gesture to the twining, flowy handwriting that 'William' had been written in. 

        "No. It was a sort of welcoming project that the hall monitors for each floor did." 

        Before I close my bedroom door behind me, I erase the black marker with my sleeve.