The Freaks and The Felonious- Teenlock/Johnlock (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

A/N- Hey, guys! This is my first attempt at a Teen!Lock fanfiction (except for my Sherlock version of TFiOS). I'm still carrying on with my other series, I just had a sudden urge to do a Teen!Lock. 

PART ONE: CAPTIVATION
(v. to attract or hold the attention of; enchant)

Chapter One- Welcome to Baskerville

John

I’d say it was an accidental a slip of the finger that brought me to Baskerville Academy, but that’s not quite right. It was more of an enraged swipe- or maybe a series of them.

My father had stumbled back home again, drunk and abusive, yelling white noise at me from the living room downstairs. In his state of intoxication, his aim hadn’t been fantastic, but he was still throwing things around at us- especially at my sister. My mother had tried to interject, and once he’d been distracted, she signalled for Harry and I to run up the stairs. I’d felt a pang in my chest to help her, but the usual drill was to leave the yelling match behind us and lock ourselves in our rooms until it was over.

I flung myself down on my bed, putting my hand on the developing bruise on my cheek. My father had just missed a full slam, but it still hurt. Lifting my finger to my eye and seeing blood, I’d decided that this really was the final straw.

It wasn’t the first time I’d come to that conclusion- I’d always felt like I could never really leave, especially now. Things had got worse ever since my sister had come out- but she’d be alright soon. She was leaving home to go and live with her girlfriend. This, from what I could here, was what the screaming downstairs was about- that and the divorce that my father refused to grant.

Raging, I opened my laptop, slammed in my password and looked up boarding schools in the country. I knew my family could never afford this sort of thing, not really, and even if I could get a scholarship I felt like I could never leave Mum. But I liked to forget that when this sort of thing happened- I could pretend I was in another place, perhaps. I’d reach for the screen at the glossy pictures of the beautiful buildings, the people in the blazers leaning against brick walls with books in hand. I wondered how many of these wanted to be there- how many had a home like mine. And the truth was, I’d do anything to trade places with them. I’d always stop by the time it started to make me feel worse, when I wasn’t able to picture being here anymore, but only that I’d never have this.

I was about to close the tabs, but my mouse started to go haywire, scrolling around the screen in the opposite direction I was telling it to. I clicked and clicked, but it still wouldn’t follow instruction- and so, with a final swipe of anger, instead of taking me out of the internet, it took me to a new page I’d never seen before.

               

‘Baskerville Academy- Official School Website’

               

My mouse was still scooting around the screen without my command, but I ignored it, staring open mouthed at the pictures- the buildings were beautiful and archaic, ivy creeping up the walls. But what struck me further was the preposition in bold letters across the homepage:

‘3 SPACES AVAILABLE FOR FULLY PAID SCHOLARSHIPS- APPLY HERE IF INTERESTED’

With trembling hands, I waited for my mouse to stop moving around by itself before scrolling nervously towards the link. I hovered over it for what seemed like a tension filled forever- surely a look couldn’t hurt?