6. Problems.

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Sherlock dashed out of the canteen with annoyance. He can't believe what just happened. He puts himself open for John, in a friendly way, for the first time accepting a person in his life, and then it's being misused. He thought John was different. He finally thought he would find a friend, a real friend, like he readed in books; or when he was little, his mother always said 'friendship is the greatest gift anyone can have,' but like always, people let him down. He glared furiously at everyone who passed him. Two young girls turned when Sherlock passed them. They were staring at him, giggling.

"Do I have something on from you two?" He snapped. The girls looked startled, looking away from Sherlock.

Sherlock walked further. He put his hand onto his chest, feeling empty, knowing he was all alone again. He snorted in disbelief. How could he think that someone cared about him?

He wheeled the corner and froze immediately. He rolled his eyes when a man in front of him sneered with joy. Sherlock rushed away, passing the man, avoiding eye contact. While Sherlock passed him, the man turned, following Sherlock's figure. The man coughed which caused Sherlock to stop directly. The man raised a brow, taking a step closer to Sherlock.

"Don't you want to say something to your beloved brother?" Mycroft teased. Sherlock turned around, facing his older brother.

"Mycroft," Sherlock said reluctantly.

"I heard you've made a friend," he said.

"He is not a friend." Sherlock retorted.

"Now now, no need to lie." He replied, crossing his arms.

"I'm not lying. John is just like every human, a waste for my brain. So if you excuse me, I have things to do," he said fiercely, turning away from Mycroft, walking in the direction of his room.

When he arrived at his room, he opened the door and slammed it behind him. He grabbed the course material from the following classes, sitting on the edge of his bed reading the parts he would miss in the afternoon. Not that he cared, but he didn't know anything else to do. So why not, he thought. He wasn't planning to go to any class for the rest of the day.

Several minutes passed when the door slowly opened and John poked his head inside, looking for Sherlock. When he saw him, he stepped slowly inside, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Sherlock looked over his shoulder briefly.

"Hey, Sherlock," John said timidly, taking a step closer. Sherlock ignored John. "Sherlock?" He mumbled. At this, Sherlock turned vigorously around, staring at John sharply.

"What?" He snapped. John frowned and walked in a rush to Sherlock.

"Did I do something wrong?" John asked.

"Can you just leave me alone, John, I'm quite busy at the moment," he said harshly.

"With what?" John responded.

"Don't you see it? I'm studying."

"You don't have to study; we both know you are too smart for that. What's wrong?" John asked. Sherlock perked his head upward, away from his work book, his brows pulled together. He felt warm at John's words. He gave Sherlock a compliment, and John probably didn't even know it.

"Is it because of Ben?"

"I'm not interested in any relationship, John. I don't have friends, I don't need friends, and I surely don't need you to pair me up with someone. Just leave me alone," he said bluntly.

John scowled. "What are we then?" He asked in annoyance.

"Roommates," Sherlock said as he turned back to his work book. "You better go, class starts in a minute."

John huffed, making a fist with his knuckles, and walked away, slamming the door behind him. He walked through the hallways, on his way to class.

"John Watson?" A voice called him. John swivelled around.

"Uh, yes hello," he said absently. He looked at the man from head to toe, not recognizing him, but there was something familiar with the tall man.

"Do I know you?" He asked with his head sideways. The older man took a step closer, and John clenched his teeth, stepping back.

"Mycroft Holmes," Mycroft said cheery. John narrowed his eyes.

"Oh yes, brother of Sherlock? Hello." He paused, thinking about what Sherlock said before. "Ignore my brother". John was pissed at Sherlock, but he will listen to his 'roommate.'

"I'm sorry, but my class starts now." He hesitated, gesturing to the classroom.

"Go ahead, I'm sure we will meet again soon, since you and Sherlock became friends." Mycroft said with a smirk.

"We aren't," John said sharply, and walked into the class. He settled himself next to the window behind Molly. Molly was drawing something. John peeked over her shoulder and popped back down onto his chair in a light shock. She was drawing a painting with hearts and a big house. In front of the house there was a girl, who looked similar to Molly, and she had a boy's hand in her hand. A tall guy with black curly hair and two stripes on his cheeks (she probably tried to draw cheekbones). Surely she was drawing Sherlock and her. John felt bad for Molly; she is in love with someone she will never get.

The teacher entered and greeted the students. John opened his book, supporting his head with his hand. John was staring outside watching the dull birds. Ten minutes later, Sherlock entered the classroom. "Sherlock you are late, sit down!" The teacher said furiously.

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively and took a seat, two rows next to John who was watching him intensely. What changed Sherlock's mind to come to class, John thought.

"What is the reason?" The teacher asked.

Sherlock was grabbing his book, ignoring the teacher. She didn't say his name so why should he answer her. "Sherlock!" She called. Now Sherlock looked up at her.

"Excuse me?" He said.

The teacher sighed. "Why are you so late to class?"

"That's none of your business," he spat out. There were a couple snickers in the class.

"Your points are my business," she retorted. Sherlock shrugged. The teacher turned back to the class, knowing she won't get anything useful out of Sherlock.

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