Dorm 221B: Teenlock Fanfiction

Part Two: Chapter Three

What is up fellow kids. I was convinced this had suffered the tragic death of most fanfiction, and was going to let it fester away on this god forsaken site. However, the pleading in the comments and my desperate need to not revise for my exams has brought me back here, once again, to Dorm 221B. 

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Sherlock and John sat outside the Deputy Headmistress' office. Greg leaned up against the red brick walls, while a group of about five cheerleaders huddled together.

The door slammed open and Sally marched out, with tears of anger in her eyes. She walked straight over to the group of cheerleaders, who all threw their arms around her. Greg straightened up to face Ms Grimshaw. "Ma'am I-"

She cut him off, saying, "This incident is deeply troubling. I will be speaking to the board and the school will handle it." Her statement seemed final.

"That's it?" asked John, standing now. "You're not going to punish the person that did this?"

Ms Grimshaw turned her narrow gaze to John. "Baskerville Academy has a long and prestigious history. We cannot have that tarnished by such a matter. We will remove the post, and we will ask that female students refrain from such unbecoming and undignified behaviour."

"So you're saying it's our fault?" exclaimed one of the girls, looking between Sally and Ms Grimshaw. From Sally's expression, it was clear she'd just had this very conversation.

"I am saying that it is not within our power to identify and control the person that made the post, however, we can advise you on ways to keep yourselves safe."

"This is bullshit!" yelled Sally.

"Mind your language Ms Donovan or I'll be forced to remove you from the cheer team."

A round of protests came from the girls who Ms Grimshaw silenced with a stern shout, "Enough! You've all caused me enough trouble for one day." With that she turned on her heel and re-entered her office, closing the door with a sharp click.

"This is so fucked," hissed Sally, wiping at her eyes. "You'll help us right?" she said, looking at John and Sherlock, who had remained silent throughout the exchange. "We can't let this person get away with this."

"Of course," said John, "We'll catch this bastard, won't we Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked up, his piercing blue eyes seeming to be searching for something, but just what John didn't know.

"We'll help. It seems that the bureaucracy has once again let us down and it is up to us to find justice," he said, standing beside John. John couldn't help but feel a tingle of excitement running down his spin and their arms brushed against each other. The thrill of a new case, right?

"I'll do what I can as well," promised Greg. "I'll listen out for any locker room talk, see if I see anything ..." He trailed off, seemingly at a loss.

Sally nodded firmly. "Thank you. Everyone. Girls," she said, turning to face her cheerleaders. "We're in this together. On three, ready? One, two, three, HEDGEHOGS!" Their hands all went in and lifted up high with their chant. The mood was still sombre, but at least they seemed somewhat hopeful.

"Um, I'm sorry to ask this, but it has to be said," stammered John. "It would help our investigation if we could know, um ... who's, you know ... in the picture?"

The corridor went quiet once again before Sally spoke up. "I'll talk to my girls and get back to you. This is sensitive."

"Of course, of course, take your time," said John, hurriedly.

"Just not too much time, we don't know when our criminal will strike again," mused Sherlock.

Sally shot him a glare as she began to lead her squad away. "Talk soon John."

As they disappeared from sight, Greg sighed. "I've got to go lock up the sports shed, I'm sure I'll be seeing you boys around." And with a wave, he too was gone.

"Alright," said John, turning to Sherlock, "What's our first move?"

His brow furrowed for a moment before his eyes lit up with a plan. "Well, we have no idea who our criminal is, we don't even know our victim. But we do know the crime, and we know where it took place. First, we need to visit the I.T. club."

The I.T. Club was probably the saddest place in the whole school, and Sherlock had seen the cafeteria kitchens. Tucked in the basement of one the old buildings, buried in layers of dust and old wiring was the I.T. Club, led by Leonard Schmidt. Sherlock had had a few run-ins with Leonard over the years and he had decided that although his intellect would never be on his level, he was, in fact, one of the few people at the school that he could tolerate.

"Schmidt," nodded Sherlock as he entered the basement.

Leonard looked up from his computer, his tinted glasses reflecting the blue light of the screen. He was a thin boy with wispy auburn hair and large protruding teeth.

"Holmes," nodded Leonard in reply. "To what do we owe the visit?"

John followed in behind Sherlock, coughing loudly as the dust swirled around them. Two other boys, club members John presumed, also looked up to assess the newcomers.

"As I'm sure you're aware by now, there was an incident on the online notice board, no less than an hour ago," Sherlock informed him.

The two boys at the back of the room giggled. 'Oh yeah, we saw that," smirked Leonard. "Gone now though, we took it down once we got the message."

"Wait, you took it down?" asked John, puzzled. "Aren't you just students?"

"Just students?" Leonard looked offended. "The I.T. Club is a highly prestigious society and as such we bare privileges and responsibilities far beyond that of a regular student."

John had had just about enough of these prestigious organisations.

"So what, you guys get to moderate the notice board?"

Leonard rolled his eyes, "Bit slow this one, where'd you find him, Holmes? Yes, we moderate the notice board, so when Ms Grimshaw sent us word, we took down the post."

"But you didn't think to take it down when you first saw it?" asked John incredulously, feeling his temper rising.

Leonard shrugged, that smirk still plastered on his face. "We figured someone would flag it sooner or later, why not enjoy it while it lasts?"

The other boys sniggered and John had to suppress the urge not to put his fist through Leonard's computer. "You pathetic-" he started, but Sherlock cut him off. "Hold it now John. Schmidt, I'm utterly disappointed. I believed you to be better than that."

"Hey, I got needs same as everyone else."

"Well, I now need you, to tell me who made the original post." Sherlock's tone had grown dark and there was a hard edge to it.

Leonard seemed taken aback by the sudden shift in mood. "I don't know man, it's anonymous."

"Don't play dumb with me, you must have something! An email, a username, an IP address. You moderate the damn site, and yet you foolishly expect me to believe you know nothing?"

John had never seen Sherlock this angry before. He stood there, tall and furious. It was almost like there a magnetic energy to his presence. It gave John that same tingling sensation.

"Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist." Leonard's fingers flurried over the keyboard. "You can have a look yourself if you like. There's nothing here." Sherlock and John marched over to view the boy's computer. True to his word, there was no trace of who made the post. 

"I've never seen anything like it before. Whoever's doing this is using some tech that's making them invisible. I can't trace it, and when I try it comes up with nothing. I can't try to hack through and found out who it was because they've left me with nothing to hack. You see?"

Sherlock seemed more concerned than ever, his eyebrows pinched together as he stared at the screen. "Impossible," he muttered under his breath.
"Pretty impressive right? That's some good coding right there-" John placed a firm hand on Leonard's shoulder and squeezed. Hard. "Is this a game to you? Do you think it's funny, that some poor girl gets exploited and cause you got to see her tits your gonna congratulate the fucker that did this?" he hissed, digging his fingers under Leonard's collarbone.

"Ah – Ow – Stop, you're hurting me!"

"John, that's enough."

John blinked and released his grip on Leonard. His fingers were red and strained with exertion.

"I'd like to say thank you Leonard, but I shan't," said Sherlock calmly as he headed for the door. "You might want to reconsider how you do things down here. I'd hate to see the prestigious I.T. Club collapse due to the morally reprehensible actions of its leader." He motioned for John to follow him. "Come on John, let's not waste any more of our time."

John gave Leonard one last glare before following Sherlock out. Leonard's smirk was long gone, replaced by a worried expression. "Please, Holmes, you know I'm just messing around, we're good right?"

Sherlock gave him one last cold stare as he closed the door. "Oh, you are far from good."

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Here we are again. Thanks for reading and all the continued support even though it's been literal years. You can follow my insta @ courtneyrhea to see what I'm getting up to instead of procrastination-writing fanfics. Maybe I'll see you in the next chapter, who know? Not me!