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It was three AM when the alarm pierced through the darkness and into John's ears, making him shoot out of bed, heart pounding and gasping for breath. Putting on shorts over his boxers and a t-shirt, John ran out of his dorm room and found that the room across from his, 221, had smoke rolling under the door. Oh, god/. John had only met the boy once or twice, his name was Sherlock, or something unique like that. Very handsome with the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Said boy came out of his room coughing and waving his hand in front of his face, but that was not the first thing that John had noticed. No, the first thing that John noticed was the bare, pale skin that met white pants with a bee on the front of it. He covered his mouth, trying hard not to giggle at the sight, but rather look as though the smoke was bothering him as well.
No one else seemed to be in the dorm except them. It was, after all, a holiday. John had no where to go--his mother and sister had gone on vacation and his father was completely out of the question. Finally able to compose himself, John went over to see if the other was alright. "What was that?" He let out a cough, forcing his eyes all the way up towards the taller who seemed to locate him after a moment or so of blinking out black smoke. He brought his hand up to the mess of curls on his head and seemed to remind John something of a peacock fluffing his feathers to gather the attention of a female.
"An experiment," he replied. John wasn't sure if his voice was naturally that low and sultry, or if it was the smoke that caused the throat to close up. "You're the boy from across the way--the one training at Bart's to be--" His eyes scanned John's body, almost critically until he gave a sure smile, "an army doctor, how commendable."
"An experi--" John scoffed and looked at him incredulously. "You realize you could have burned down the entire bloody building, and you want to talk about my profession?"
"Oh, it passes the time," the raven haired boy replied with what John would call a shit eating smile. "And anyways, I've been wanting to introduce myself for ages, and now would be the most opportune time, don't you think?" He extended his hand towards John who was now looking about as scandalized as a cat in a bath, but took the larger hand anyway. "Sherlock Holmes," he stated, firmly gripping John's hand. For a man that had been almost burned alive, his hands were as cold as death. "And you are?"
"John Watson," he choked out, watching more smoke from Sherlock's room, "and what the hell is wrong with you?" Sherlock gave another grin, and pulled John in close to him, pressing their bodies together so that they were almost skin-on-t-shirt.
"Nothing, really," his voice was low again. This time John was sure that it was his natural voice, "just your friendly neighborhood sociopath wanting to say hi."
The shorter man wasn't sure if he actually tried to move or if there was a magnetic force between them that wouldn't allow his legs to actually move on their own will. "You could have just knocked on my door." He huffed, not really letting go of Sherlock's hand, but loosening his grip.
"Yeah, but this was more fun," the rumbled from Sherlock's chest vibrated into John, almost like it was a purr. John suddenly felt like a little bunny under the hunt of a large cat. "Would you like to get out of here?"
John laughed, finally able to move away from him a little, "what me in my shorts and you in your pants? Seriously, are you sure you're not mad?"
"Quite," Sherlock moved closer to John, "just as sure that you're attracted to me, as I am to you." John's hairline receded a little as his eyebrows shot up, looking up at Sherlock wordlessly wondering how the hell he knew that, but could feel Sherlock's body so close to him it clouded his mind--or was it the black smoke? He couldn't tell anymore. All he knew was Sherlock, and Sherlock was near him, making him feel things he had no idea he could feel about another male. A smile came from Sherlock, giving John what he thought young teenage girls would call 'butterflies.' and leaned down to almost touch their lips, "Oh, I see," he breathed. Sherlock's breath was a mix of what John could smell of tobacco, tea and a hint of mint to mask it all up. "You haven't come to terms with your own sexuality, have you? That's why you're not home--not because your family is away, but because you want to discover yourself and hope to whatever god you believe in that they'll accept you as they didn't accept your---brother. Your older brother." He gave a smile and pulled back without laying lip onto John's.
"Sister." John sighed out, trying hard to not follow the lips that abandoned him, but wasn't sure if it actually occurred or not. "And what about you? Your family know about you?"
"My brother always knew I was gay. Honestly, I couldn't give two shits what my family thinks. They're all idiots, including my brother." To that, there was nothing John could say. The fire department had come and gone, making sure that the boys were in perfect condition, and fined Sherlock for the damage that the did to his dorm room and told him that he would have to find a new room to stay in. This, John saw as his opportune time. Sherlock returned to his room to gather what he wanted and packed it all in boxes outside with a sigh and hands on his small waist.
"You know," John said, pointing to his own room, "my roommate had already started boot camp and I'm not finished for another three semesters. D'you--" It was then when Sherlock swooped down and kissed John right on the mouth--mid sentance open and wild. Pulling back before either one could really register what happened, there was a crazed look on Sherlock's face.
"Yes." He said, breathlessly, picking up one of his boxes, " But, seriously, taking me in as a roommate and boyfriend?" He winked at the latter, making John blush and wonder if that would be what they'd become, "what the hell is the matter with you?" At that, they shared a laugh and brought in boxes to share their new adventure together, finally in the same room.