It was 10:45 AM, January the 5th. Over the break, John's wound had healed almost completely and he'd visited Dr. Martin's clinic quite a few times. They now had a close relationship, as far as mentor-apprentice goes.
John was packing up his things, which Sherlock had nicely washed for him. Sherlock's bags were already packed and ready at the front door.
"So," the taller boy looked into John's room, "Ready for the school camping trip?"
"Oh, yeah, I heard about that. Most colleges don't have field trips."
"Well, Sir Arthur's is different. For the better. I heard it's a real fun camp from some of the older students. I honestly can't wait," Sherlock smiled.
"It sucks that the break is over, but I'm kinda glad to get back to school. Being here is...Difficult."
"Hey," Sherlock walked up and held John's shoulders, "We're gonna get him in jail, you hear? Just you wait."
John nodded, "Yeah, I know. But for now, let's just focus on getting a cab out of here, quick as possible."
"You all packed?"
"Yup."
"Let's go."
Sherlock helped John bring his heavy bag down the steps, letting John take it to free his hands for his own bags.
"Goodbye, boys!" Sherrinford chimed, waving off Mycroft, who dragged his hefty suitcase down the hall, murmuring a goodbye as he passed his elder brother.
Sherlock, without saying a word, exited the house to find the cab already waiting. Somehow, they managed to fit all their bags in the trunk, save for one small, handheld case for special items, which Mycroft carried.
They jumped in the backseat and the cab took off, leaving a trail of dust as it left the town and drove onto the dirt road that led across the country and into London.
About an hour later, they pulled up at Sir Arthur's. Everything was just as they left it-- not that they expected it to change-- and many others were just arriving as well. It was the beginning of the year all over again.
The three hauled their bags up the front steps and into the large entrance hall, Mycroft leaving in the direction of his and Greg's dorm. Supposedly he'd seen Greg over the break, but Sherlock didn't pry.
They took the lift up to Floor 2, making their way to the B Wing. Sherlock counted off the rooms, "19, 20, 21."
John followed his roommate into room 221, and it was all the same. Same musty smell, same beds, same drawers...So nice and familiar.
"They've done room service I see," Sherlock observed.
"Yep," John began to unload his belongings into his drawer, same one as before.
"Don't unpack, silly," Sherlock murmured, "We leave for camp tomorrow."
John, feeling stupid, put his clothes back into his bag.
A couple hours passed, and at exactly 1:30 PM, there was a message over the P.A.:
"All students are to report to the auditorium for an assembly. Please be quick."
Sherlock hopped off his bunk and he and John left for the auditorium. Students were already quickly filing in, taking their seats with friends.
Once most were in, save for a few who came in late, Principal Brook took the stage, tapping the microphone at his podium.
"Your attention please," his voice rang out into the ears of all the gathered students, "As you know, tomorrow we leave for the usual camping trip at Evan's Lake in Squamish, BC. Do not unpack your things. We leave at 12:00 sharp tomorrow, and I want you all out on the front lawn by then with all your stuff. We should arrive at that camp at close to 10 o'clock that night. If you have any questions, please ask the secretary at my office. Thank you."
Slowly, they all filed out. Neither John nor Sherlock had any questions, so far it was pretty straightforward. They hiked back to the dorm and lazed around most of the day, only going out for dinner at the local diner. Finally, at 9:56 PM, they decided to get some sleep.
Their alarm buzzed at 9 o'clock the next morning. Sherlock reached down and unplugged it, a habit that annoyed John as he always had to reset the time.
John hopped down from his bunk and shook his head to chase the sleep away. He dug his uniform out of his bag and slipped it on-- the monotone grey pants, the white blouse, the blue-and-grey striped tie and geeky grey v-neck pullover sweater.
Lastly, he slipped on the fancy black shoes that went with it, zipping up his suitcase and hauling it to the door so it was ready.
"Sherlock," he muttered, approaching the taller boy's bunk. He had tucked his head under the covers, just leaving a peek of dark chocolate brown curls to show he was there.
John had an idea. He crept up silently, not making a sound. He thanked the shoes for that. Once he was close enough, he pounced, landing square on the sleeping boy's shoulders.
Unfortunately, Sherlock didn't react. He made a small "oof" sound into his pillow, but otherwise remained unmoving.
John still sat on Sherlock's back, squishing him into the mattress. He hoped this would drive the other boy out of bed.
John checked his watch: 9:13. Sherlock had better get up soon, they needed time for breakfast.
Caught off-guard, John was startled when Sherlock sprang up, turning the tables so he held John into the mattress, a triumphant gleam in his surprisingly lively green eyes.
"Okay, you got me," John chuckled, "Now get off and get dressed."
John noticed Sherlock wore only his boxers, and he felt a blush creep up his neck. Realizing awkwardly too late where he was looking, he averted his gaze back to Sherlock's face.
"You're red as a tomato," Sherlock purred, "It's cute."
John looked away, "Shut up."
Sherlock stooped lower so his bare chest pressed against the itchy fabric of John's pullover, "Why?"
John was aware of the proximity, making him even redder, if that was possible. He was so close to the other boy he could feel Sherlock's heartbeat, as well as the warmth his body gave off. He was only two layers of fabric away from his friend's pale body.
Two. Layers.
Sherlock stooped his face even lower, his lips mere centimetres from John's, "I said...Why?"
"Because," John was happy his voice didn't crack, "You have to get up and dressed. We're going camping today."
Sherlock huffed in defeat, "Fine."
John suddenly felt cold as the boy's warm body broke away from his own. He lay there a moment while Sherlock put his own uniform on.
"I hope it's as fun as it sounds."
Sherlock fixed the collar on his blouse, "Oh, it will be."
What's that supposed to mean?
John left his bags in the dorm and he and Sherlock left for breakfast.
---------------
"Okay, students. I hope you all grabbed your bags. Please listen closely to the following instructions," Mrs. Hudson, the headmistress, silenced the excited crowd of first-years, "There are two buses-- bus A and B. If your last name starts with any letter from A-M, you're in bus A. N-Z, bus B. Is that understood?"
Once everyone nodded, she continued, "Please hand your bags to a staff member and enter your appropriate bus in an orderly fashion."
Instead of "orderly" it was more like "chaos". Students pushed and shoved against each other, attempting to be the first ones to board.
Sherlock and John chose two seats on bus A. Sherlock took the window seat, and John was fine with the aisle. John was never bothered by silly things like "the top bunk" or "the window seat".
"It's about a 30-minute drive to the airport, then..." John didn't listen to Sherlock's babbling. Instead he looked past him and out the window at the passing city of London.
Soon enough they were getting their tickets and boarding the plane, which had reserved seating. As always, the liftoff was rough, but after that, the flight was smooth and steady. John watched the ocean pass by far below.
Evan's Lake, here they come.