(no subject)
Author:pal_porns_r_luv
Fandom: (BBC) Sherlock
Characters: Sherlock, Sebastian, The skull, OCs.
Warnings: Drug use
Summary: Sherlock at University
A/N Thanks to lovemoony4ever for Beta-ing
Sherlock stared across his room, seeing Yorick - what else would he call a skull really? - sitting tidily on his shelf. Why was he here again? The noises from downstairs kept wafting up to his room, Sebastian and his friends were here again- well, he supposes he should allow that. They do live here. Why must they be so close to him, share a common room with him?
“Why are they up this early?” He looked to Yorick again. Sherlock had lectures this morning, and a test- that’s why Sebastian was up at least- he wasn’t worried about the test, his brain roomed an orderly mess of information, the most relevant being in tidy piles by the door. He would concentrate more on the book in his hands and the pad of paper on his desk, but the noise! The second he heard a noise he had to know - What caused it? Who caused it? What lead to them causing the noise!
“Urgh! What is this? I bet it’s that Holmes boy again!” They were in the small kitchen that had been attached to the common room. He couldn’t wait ‘till he left Cambridge - had to be Cambridge, Mycroft went to Oxford- until he had his own kitchen and didn’t have to have repeat- scratch that, redo- experiments numerous times over. When did he finish his course again? Not soon enough.
“Leave that alone! It’s not finished!” Sherlock had reached the kitchen, swinging around the doorframe to keep up his momentum. Rachel was holding the Glass tumbler containing the blue and red think gloop-y liquid- he was trying to find a way to preserve DNA better for the future. Rachel was a rich- if not clever, they all seemed to be rich- girl who studied an essay based subject. Calluses on her writing fingers, perhaps it was English, a Classical degree at least.
“Not? For fucks sake, Holmes, you do Criminology- not bloody Chemistry! Why do you…urgh!” Rachel’s hand had only relaxed slightly, but it was enough for Sherlock to take a step forward and reach out for the ‘beaker’.
“What are you doing up this early anyway? We’re trying to enjoy breakfast,” Sebastian had grabbed his left shoulder, he’d moved as Rachel was talking. Toward the door, nearer to him but he’d assumed that he was leaving the room - he needed to improve. Sherlock frowned at the physical contact- he didn’t understand it. It was on his shoulder, so that implied friendly, the question as well…the fact he was behind him gave off an intimidating air though- What did that gesture mean?! He also frowned at the beaker hitting the floor, blue smoke rising from it.
“Oi! Sherlock, don’t ignore me!” Sherlock was turned around by Sebastian, who was ignoring the muttering leaving his lips: ‘copper, it wasn’t in the solution, shouldn’t to his knowledge have been created within the beaker either…’
“Late, haven’t slept.” ‘…so the floor? But why would a floor contain’- he caught a whiff of something on Sebastian’s stomach, perfume? Ah, lipstick on the crotch of his trousers. He looked up to Sebastian, a curios look gracing his own features. “Didn’t sleep Sebastian?”
Useless question, of course Sebastian hadn’t, too busy. He looked around the room, spotting the others sitting at the table. Lizzy? Yes she had a necklace- she had a smile on her face, proud about something- she was hurting, shifting too much in her chair - tired, slumped over slightly, hunched more- he can match her teeth to the mark he noticed now that Sebastian’s collar had moved.
“ You and Lizzy…”
“Who said you could call me that?!”
She was angry, annoyed. Why? That was what she preferred to be called. What was her problem? “Don’t wear it around your neck. Does Kelly-Ann know?”
“Not sle…” Sebastian’s face turned to one of disbelief. “What? Just what are you accusing me of?” The grip had tightened on his -now right- shoulder. Intimidation- he hadn’t cut his nails, he was wearing far too much body spay- hiding body odour - he had bags under his eyes, not just from having sex instead of sleeping but from late nights working he’d assume- he was getting back late to the dorms as well- talking to the professors…
“You’re failing. Is having sex with two different women wise?”
He felt the fist rather than see it. He needs to get stronger, especially if just one punch was enough to knock him out. Granted he hadn’t slept for nearly 48 hours now, so it was understandable.
It was night- great, he’d missed the test. No worries though, he’ll just do it later. What was that smoke? Not tobacco, that smelt entirely different. Some form of illegal drug then - cocaine?
Sherlock could feel the pressure of the floor against his back lessen slightly- just a bit, not enough so that he could tell that he was still right by the fridge- the hum was vibrating onto his back, but it was a very low hum to his actual ears. He took a deep breath- the smoke making the voices and laughter truly sound their distance.
He had to get himself some. He walked into the room- he could hear the laughter from the hallway- yes, his mind was still its usual whirlwind of thoughts but it was quieter.
So, so much quieter.
He opened the door, blinking in the onslaught of smoke that wafted through the now open door. There it was on the table- it was marijuana, not cocaine- but it was within his reach. So he took it - not something strange for him to do, he’d stolen Yorick from the Biology department- the others wouldn’t even notice that he had taken it, they were too far under the influence.
One butt smoked- the world a quieter, duller place, buzzing lowly with noise and thoughts and observations- still too much to consider himself at the point those idiots in his dorm lived at, still too noisy to really stop the observations, they just took longer to register in his mind, really.
Quieter.
“This is the effect of the weaker narcotic, Yorick,” T
he skull stared patiently at him, ready to listen and respond, without interrupting him or losing him partway to something else- as he always was. But with this he had found a release- a vice through which he could let out all of his frustrations- besides boxing, but he was already surprisingly good at that. He never found it to be of use though.
“Can you imagine the silence if I were to try the harder stuff?” Yorick’s- and his own- face stretched into a grin- his own almost manic, he was never good at the reassuring smiles- as he thought on how it could be done.
“Let the experiments begin, Yorick.”