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John rubbed his eyes blearily, pressing the heels of his hands against them, before slowly blinking his vision back into focus. He glanced around. The library had gradually quietened and emptied as the evening had drawn on. Shelves and shelves stacked high with knowledge loomed over the tables and chairs that stood neatly in the centre. The blueish light of a handful of computer screens glowed almost eerily, in parts of the room that had fallen into shadow, the motion sensor lights switching off one by one. Only a scattered handful of individuals remained, pouring greedily over coveted books. The occasional rustle of paper and the scratching of pens, interspersed with muffled music coming from someone’s head phones were the only noises to breach the near silence.
John risked a glance at the time and groaned in despair. It was nearly two in the morning! Where had the time gone?! He looked back at his copy of ‘Gray’s Anatomy’ and sighed heavily. The anatomy exam was just under three weeks away and John was starting to feel stressed out. He couldn’t concentrate! The concepts flitted around the outskirts of his understanding but he just couldn’t get any of it to stick. He let his head fall heavily onto the open book on the table with a dull thud.
“Do you mind if I join you?” a deep voice intruded. John jumped, snapping his head back up and watched as a tall, gangly looking student deposited a tower of books on the table, pulled out the chair opposite John and flopped down into it, without waiting for a response. John didn’t know what to say. He was pretty sure he hadn’t seen this him before. He would have remembered him, he was beautiful. The light caught on his pale skin and sharp cheekbones, his dark hair in messy curls, springing up, unruly, from his head.
“Are you ok?” the stranger asked, his voice a low rumble.
“I-- er-- yeah. I’m just tired,” John sputtered out. “Do I know you? You’re not on my course are you?”
“No, there’s no point in me studying medicine. I have no interest in becoming a doctor,” the stranger smiled wryly.
“How did you know that I was studying--”
“Obvious,” the other student gestured vaguely at the open book between them.
“Aah, yes. The medical textbook’s a bit of a giveaway, I guess. What do you study? No, let me guess.” John looked at the literature that had been set down on the edge of the table. “Something like criminology?”
“Ha! No.” he laughed. “These,” he said letting his fingers dance over the top of his books, “are just a hobby. I’m actually a Chemistry student.”
“Oh.” John looked again at the pile of books. “That is a lot of extra reading,” he remarked. “How do you find time for all of that, on top of your degree? I can barely find the time to eat and sleep, let alone anything extracurricular!”
“I enjoy reading and I get bored easily,” the stranger shrugged, dismissively. “And you play rugby. Isn’t that extra-curricular?” he leant forward, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled under his chin. He raised his eyes to John’s, scrutinising him silently.
“How did you know that?” John gaped up at him.
“I’m good at reading people,” he said evasively. “You’re the captain, right?”
“Yeah, I am. That’s amazing!” John’s eyes roamed over the man sat in front of him with renewed curiosity.
“That’s not what people normally say.”
“What do they normally say?” John asked.
“They normally tell me to piss off. Turns out people don’t generally like strangers knowing their business.”
“What else do you know about me, then,” John blurted out, before he could stop himself. He was intrigued. And, he admitted, his interest had been well and truly sparked by this mysterious stranger. The man began speaking almost immediately;
“You’re in your first year of medical school. You’re actually wondering if you made the right choice, it’s harder than you thought it would be. You also have an older brother, who’s recently split up with his long-term girlfriend and you don’t get on with him for some reason, I can’t tell you why though.” He frowned, his brow knitting together. “I hate not being able to see everything.” He brightened as he returned his gaze to John’s.
“How can you possibly know all of that?” John uttered in complete astonishment.
“I observed it.” he leant forward and grasped John’s wrist, “the watch, the strap has been engraved; ‘Harry, all my love, Clara’. It’s an expensive watch, so it must have been serious between them. It’s fairly new; he wouldn’t just give it away unless something had happened. If she had broken up with him he would have kept the watch, people do, sentiment, so he broke up with her. As for you two not getting on, the strap is scuffed, and the edges of the watch are scratched. I would say you are just a careless sort of person, but the rest of your things are immaculate. Your neglect of the watch is a subtle indication of the relationship you have with the person who gifted it to you.” He paused for breath. “As for knowing that you doubt your decision to go into medicine, you have been sat there for the last hour, staring into space and you frown when you look down at your book. For the record, I think you’d probably make an excellent doctor.” He smiled softly before dropping John’s wrist and resuming his position, his fingers against his lips.
“Wow.” John murmured. “How did you see all of that? That’s incredible,” he swallowed deliberately, trying to pull himself together. “I’m John, by the way.” He held out his hand.
“Sherlock,” Sherlock said, his smile widening as he took John’s offered hand and shook it firmly. “Did I get it all right then? I’m not usually right about everything.”
“Nearly,” John smiled. “Harry’s actually my sister.”
“Sister! There’s always something.” Sherlock muttered, before smiling back at John. “I’m glad, I didn’t scare you off. There’s something interesting about you.” He looked down at the text book. “Which bits are you finding difficult? I might be able to help?"
“Another hobby?” John asked jokily, “It’s not so much that I’m finding it difficult, I just can’t seem to be able to remember any of it!” he sighed, some of his previous exasperation returning. “I honestly don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“Ah, you should create a mind-palace.” Sherlock said. “It’s a memory technique,” he explained as he saw John’s confusion written across his face. “It’s actually quite simple, once you get the hang of. You create a room, or a house, in your mind. You can use somewhere familiar to you if you wish, or you can create your own. Once you have done that, you can encode the information you want to remember, by associating it with an image or something like that and then put it in the room. That way, every time you walk through the room in your mind, you’ll be able to recall the information you stored there.”
“That actually works?” John sounded incredulous.
“It works exceptionally well for me. I can’t see why it would be any different for you,” Sherlock said defensively.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll give it a go. I haven’t really got anything to lose, have I?” I’ve never heard of it before. How did you learn how to do it?”
“I didn’t. I’ve always remembered things like this. It was instinctive. Actually, it was years before I realised that other people’s minds didn’t work the same way as mine.” Suddenly, a phone beeped loudly. Sherlock frowned, wriggling his phone out of his trouser pocket. He stared at it for a moment, before leaping up. “I’m afraid I have to go. It was nice meeting you John.”
“Of course… and thank you.” John grinned up at him. “You know, we should hang out some time.” He said spontaneously. “Let me buy you a drink or something, after exams have finished.”
Sherlock grinned, leaning forward to jot his number down, his arm brushing against John’s.
“Sure,” he said, the smile dancing playfully across his lips, I'll let you buy me a drink, but only if you pass this exam.”
“I better get busy then!” John laughed.
“Yes, I guess you should.” Sherlock said cheekily and winked at him, before he hurried away.
John stared after him for a moment, reflecting back on what had just happened and then he smiled to himself before turning back to his book with a renewed sense of determination.