This One Time at Band Camp Chapter 2 (first half)

Even though he believed that scales were a good way to warm up and improve your playing upon one’s own instrument, he didn’t prefer them played outside his window at six thirty in the morning. Quickly Sherlock got out of his bed, put his bathrobe on and stormed outside. He quickly found the source of the obscenely high notes, John. The curly haired teen stormed over to the trumpeter, snatching the brass instrument away from him before storming back inside and throwing the trumpet to the floor, causing John to stand dumbfounded.
“Finally, peace and quiet.” He murmured as he fell back onto the mattress. John was obliged to go to wake up call, Monday the trumpets played and seeing as how one of the closet cabins was his, they started there. John decided to do scales, reaching the high notes rather well before suddenly— His trumpet was gone. The blond opened his mouth before sighing, flinching at the sound of his trumpet hitting the ground as his section poked fun at John, who was now trying to open the locked door to his cabin.
“Sherlock, please!”  He called out as he knocked on the door, frowning.
Even though the brass were silent the banging on his door was no better. With an annoyed huff Sherlock stood up once more and opened the door. “Shut up! Everybody just shut up! I am trying to sleep!”
“Oh yeah, I forgot, Sherly here isn’t a morning person.” A sleepy voice that was too close to his ear spoke. Moriarty pushed past Sherlock and John with a towel in hand, heading towards the shower.
“Well, that was disgusting.” Sherlock spat out as he gathered his own clothes. “If I ever hear you playing this early in the morning ever again I will take your trumpet and throw it in the lake.” He moved past down, heading towards the showers as well.
“Good morning, Locky. Mummsie told me to tell you she loves you.” A voice boomed from the megaphone.
“Mycroft if you ever say anything of the like ever again, I will murder everything you love.” Sherlock barked at his brother whom was sitting by the camp fire.
“Oh, but I wouldn’t want my dear brother to commit suicide.” The grown man said in a mock worried voice.
Sherlock scoffed. “Don’t lie to me, Mycroft.”
~~~~~~~~~
John walked to the middle of the room to obtain his trumpet, scowling as he inspected it to make sure his instrument wasn’t broken. He sighed and watched a very tired Moriarty walk past them, Sebastian glaring as he followed close behind, John giving a small wave to Sherlock as the curly haired teen picked out his clothes for the day. It was around that time Greg Lestrade starting waking up, Anderson right behind him with an annoyed groan.
“Morning.” John gave a slight nod as he left the cabin and headed to the bathroom to change, listening to Mycroft mumble something at him through the megaphone along the lines of ‘Good morning’ as John tiredly dismissed the assistant teacher with a yawn. John walked into the bathroom which was split in two. If you were to take a right you’d end up in restroom part, take a left and you’d be head towards the showers. Seeing as how John had taken a shower the night before, he decided to skip his morning shower and headed towards the bathroom portion so that he could brush his teeth and change his clothes. When he turned the corner, he was surprised to see James sitting on the counter with only a towel wrapped around his waist.  
“What the Hell are you doing?” He covered his eyes, turning his head away slightly.
“What’s wrong, Johnny Boy, can’t hang?” James smirked smugly before continuing. “But if you must know what I’m doing, stick around and you’ll find out.” He gave a suggestive wink, though John couldn’t see.
“James Moriarty, I swear I will drown you in the god damned lake for this!” Sherlock’s voice boomed throughout the restroom.
John kept his eyes away from the barely covered smirking James as Sherlock screamed out, causing James to snicker and John to raise an eyebrow. As an answer he saw James eyes glance down to the outfit and towel besides him, causing John’s eyes to widen.
“James, he is going to bloody kill you and you deserve it!” The blond shook his head and snatched up the towel from the sink and disregarded the snickering Jim as he walked off to the other side of the bathroom. “Hey, Sherlock? I have a towel if you want it.” John called out, not wanting to make the situation ten times worse by barging into the wrong shower.
Sherlock stuck his hand out of the curtain, snatching the towel from John when he felt the fabric in his hand. He fastened it to his waist, padding angrily to the other side of the restroom. The teenager was steaming, his knuckles white where he gripped his towel, glaring at Moriarty.
“Now don’t get so heated Sherlock, it’s just an innocent little game,” James taunted from the counter top, swinging his legs back and forth.
The curly haired teen muttered an obscenity describing Moriarty under his breath while he quickly snatched up his clothes and locked himself in a stall to get dressed.
“Come on Sherly, you shouldn’t use words like that in front of your new boyfriend,” The saxophone player smiled towards the stall door.
The trumpet player pinched the bridge of his nose and attempted to rub sleep from his eyes, picking up his toothbrush and figuring he might as well get over it over with.
“James, please put on some clothes,” John groaned before beginning to brush his teeth, toothbrush dangling as he mumbled out, “Not his boyfriend,” Just as Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, wearing a white button up and black jeans, causing John to spit into the sink and scoff, grabbing his clothes and passing Sherlock with a smile. “This week Is going to kill you,” He stated as he heard James snicker and pad to the other side of the restroom, hopefully to get changed.
Sherlock was fixing his collar in the mirror, “I’ll be inside an air conditioned room for the entirety of my rehearsal time, so I would say that I’m dressed rather appropriately,” he took hold of his towel and started to dry his damp curls and started to walk towards the door, but before he completely rounded the corner he turned and looked over to John, “If I were you I would leave soon, Sebastian is still in the shower and knowing James,” He made a face before leaving.
John had just finished putting his things in his bag as Sherlock turned to walk out, causing John’s face to turn into a scowl. He surely didn’t want to be in the bathroom given those circumstances, John quickly changed in one of the stalls, taking a moment to collect himself.
Everyone, especially people in the music department, were well aware of Sebastian’s hate for Sherlock Holmes, and since he’s met Sherlock, John could see that the resentful feeling was mutual.
~~~
John walked into the mostly filled cafeteria, looking around the room for a place to sit. He walked around the room, getting “Sorry”s from a couple of his acquaintances who were at already full tables. After a minute or two he was just considering eating his breakfast while standing in a corner when he saw a surprisingly tense table. Three of his cabin mates were seated, Anderson was glaring across the table at Sherlock who was looking at something on his phone, and then there was Lestrade who was shifting through papers, more than likely making a list of things that the rest of the band needed. He walked over to the table and seated himself to Sherlock’s left.
“What’re you doing?” Sherlock asked, not looking up from his phone.
John had just taken his sear when Sherlock spoke, causing him to blink.
“Sitting down? I’m sorry, am I not allowed to sit with you guys?” Anderson scoffed at John’s question as Lestrade interrupted.
“Don’t mind him, he’s just being Sherlock,” The drum major smiled acceptingly towards John. John and him always had a mutual civil relationship, and John was glad for that.
“It’s not that you’re not allowed to sit with us, but it is blatantly obvious that you are doing so because your friends would rather you not sit with them.” The curly haired teen looked up from his mobile, “It just makes me wonder what it is about you that displeases other people. I already have Anderson to put me off,”
John was dumb founded, his mouth ajar for a moment before he nervously licked his bottom lip before beginning to mess around with his food, deciding that he had lost his appetite.
“Hey!” Anderson scowled and excused himself from the table by pushing his chair back. John watched as he the teenager found himself a spot at a different table, causing those three that remained to fall rather silent.
John turned towards Sherlock, hoping to kill the time with small talk, “So, what was that man using the megaphone saying to you earlier?”
Sherlock froze for a second and set his phone down on the table, “That man was saying probably the most disgusting and annoying thing uttered in human history,”
John was about to respond, but was cut off when a tall man with neat dark brown hair put both his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders, “Now my dear baby brother, don’t be rude to your new friend. I was just informing Locky here of our Mother’s affections. My name is Mycroft, I’m an assistant instructor,”
“Mycroft, take your hands off of me,” Sherlock closed his eyes with a straight face as the elder male removed his hands. John looked confused at first, but offered a smile and a hand shake to Mycroft.
“I’m John, it’s a pleasure,” The teen sipped his coffee as Mycroft smiled coolly.
“Yes, of course, I know who you are, seeing that you’ve taken an interest in my younger brother,” Sherlock groaned and stood, glaring at Mycroft as the man spoke.
“Is the only reason you came to work at this school to stalk me and the people around me?” He gave a blank stare to his elder brother.
“I worry about my baby brother, you’re the only one that I have, and if you must know, I’m working here for my own reasons. The world doesn’t always revolve around you,” Mycroft smirked before sauntering off towards the staff table.
Sherlock turned on his heel, starting towards the exit, “I swear, I could not despise my brother’s existence even more if I tried,”
John shook his head at the encounter, standing up quickly and going to take care of his coffee mug.
“Are you coming?” He heard from behind him, causing the blond to blink and turn his heels to find Sherlock with an eyebrow arched in anticipation.
“Oh, of course,” He replied with a slightly shocked face as he hustled to catch up with the now moving violin player as they made their way to their cabin before morning practice.
“So, what do you do in orchestra?” John asked, puzzled.
“Play music obviously,” Sherlock answered simply, “Every now and then our instructor has us compose short pieces. I actually rather enjoy composing though, it always guarantees that I’ll be playing something worthwhile,”
John opened the door to their cabin, walking inside and was relieved to see that it was empty of any other people.
“Can I see something you composed if you have it with you?” John asked, a bit curious as to what type of music the other would create.
The violinist raised an eyebrow, but reached for his music binder nonetheless and handed it to the other, “Everything in the second tab is original.”
John smiled slightly and took a seat on Sherlock’s bed, not wanting to take the time to climb onto his own bunk. He opened the binder to reveal some sheet music, scribbled and written on which made John blink. He would never compose this well.
He skimmed through the music, amazed in a sorts, but simply licking his bottom lip and nodding, looking up to the other, “Wow, it’s very amazing,”
“Of course it’s amazing, I wrote it,” he sat down next to John, having to hunch his shoulders slightly so that he didn’t hit his head.
John scoffed and flipped through a few pages to find a piece with the word “Waltz” on the tope. The blond laughed.
“You write waltzes?” John raised an eyebrow, and looked over to Sherlock.
Sherlock nodded, taking the still open binder from John and sliding it into his own lap. “I do, I rather enjoy the beat,” He paused, contemplating whether or not to continue speaking, “Actually… before my family moved here to America we were generally well off in London. My parents had me attend ballroom dancing classes and surprisingly, I enjoyed them,”
John laughed softly and looked over into the other’s lap, his eye scanning over the music once more, “Really? Not saying you don’t exactly look like the type, but waltzing?” The shorter male shook his head, “I’d be shocked if you didn’t have two left feet.”
The violinist flipped the binder closed before standing up. He held out a hand to the other teenager with a smirk that he only got when he felt a challenge was presented to him. “Why don’t I prove to you that I, indeed, don’t have to left feet?
The blond raised an eyebrow, taking the other’s hand. “Well,” He scowled slightly and glanced up to the other. “I’ve never exactly learned how to properly dance.” He spoke as he stood.
Sherlock scoffed and then dropped his hand slightly. “And you’re accusing me of being a poor dancer? I would expect you to have at least a small knowledge of dancing seeing as you have to do a bit of foot work in marching band.” After he finished his sentence he felt his own smirk grow a bit bigger when he thought of another challenge. “If you really don’t know how to dance then why don’t I teach you how to do so?”
John had grown up in a rather poor family, he was lucky to get money for food, let alone dance lessons. The blond laughed a bit nervously, giving a small, rather hesitant nod. “I don’t see why not. Sorry if I step on your foot,” He chuckled.
Sherlock chuckled and helped John to stand up, “I expect you to step on my foot, seeing as how you’re just learning.” He took hold of the blonde’s hand and pulled him into a standing position. In one hand he loosely gripped John’s hand, and the other he placed his back. “Now put your hand on my shoulder,” He stated simply.
John felt a bit awkward, seeing as how he normally wasn’t this close to people, especially men. He had to stretch a little, but he placed one of his hands lightly on Sherlock’s shoulder and looked up at the other, shifting his feet.
The violinist looked down at the other’s shifting feet, “Losing your confidence? Well it’s a good thing you won’t be leading then,” Abruptly Sherlock stepped his foot forward, expecting John to follow his lead.
The blond was going to open his mouth to retort when Sherlock moved forward, causing John’s statement to turn into, “Bloody Hell!” As he clutched onto Sherlock, losing his footing and falling backwards and slamming his head onto the wood of the top bunk before landing on the bottom bunk, back first and Sherlock on top of him.
Both of them let out a small groan of pain having hit their heads on the top bunk. There was a small click as the door opened and someone had stepped in.
“What are you two doing up here, your rehearsal ties started nearly ten minutes-“ Mycroft cut himself off as he looked over to the two teenagers, “Are we going to have to have a talk with Mother Sherlock?”
John was in mid chuckle as the door opened, causing his face to pale as he pushed the taller male off of him, careful not to hit his head once more.
“Piss off Mycroft,” Sherlock muttered and stood, rubbing the back of his head before snatching up his case and groaning.
Mycroft moved to the side to allow Sherlock to leave. He remained to wait as John was still getting his trumpet case.
“If I may ask, what were you two actually doing? I’m sure you already know this, but my brother isn’t the most sociable person, so please excuse my surprise,” he cleared his throat, “Might I expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?”
John had shoved his music in his case as he looked up at the other with a smile and a laugh, “We weren’t anything. We tripped and happened to fall, bad timing is all,” he gave a hesitant nod as he walked past Mycroft, stopping to look up at the ale before quickly leaving the cabin.
~~~
“Okay, good work everybody,” Mrs. Hudson announced happily as she cut the orchestra off, “Take a ten minute break,”
Immediately the whole room was filled with students talking and some stray notes being played. Some students ran off to get water or to get something from their cabin. Sherlock stood and walked over to get something from their cabin. Sherlock stood and walked over to where Mrs. Hudson was standing, sorting through the music scores on the podium.
“Sherlock, you seem like you’re in a bad mood, does it have anything to do with why you were late today?” She asked, looking up to the teenage boy.
“My dear brother was being a nuisance and decided to interrupt me in my cabin without thinking to knock first. Do you mind?” Sherlock took the music scores before she answered and started looking through the music. He furrowed his eyebrows when he came across a piece that was titled Achilles’ Wrath.  “Why do you have this? This isn’t an orchestra score,”
The teacher smiled at Sherlock, “Well, I was talking to Mycroft,” Sherlock scowled, “Oh, don’t give me that look. As I was saying, he and I were discussing it and we both agreed that it would be fun to put the band and orchestra together for concert season, but we couldn’t find any fitting pieces. When we heard this one we were disappointed to find it only being for band, but then I said that I could ask you if you wanted to try composing a string portion,”
After a short moment of stunned silence Sherlock smiled and hugged his instructor, “That would be brilliant,”
~~~
John had to run ten laps around the filed once he’d arrived, due to his tardiness. Not like it was a physical strain, John was used to running. After he was done he’d caught up in the drill, counting along with their steps. It was a relief to everyone when Greg Lestrade announced it was time for a water break. John plopped down and pulled out his water bottle and music with a sigh. Achilles’ Wrath was their closer and most of their show actually. Though John was rather experienced with his instrument and playing, this music was giving him some trouble. He just couldn’t get the rhythm down. He sighed and rubbed his temples, he’d have to work on it later with Greg. That is if hell didn’t break out in their cabin tonight.
~~~
Sherlock walked into the cafeteria after the main crowd of students, so obviously the tables were pretty much full.
“Hey, Sherlock, why don’t you come sit over here?” John’s voice beckoned from a couple of tables away.
The violinist turned and quickly spotted the other, and walked over, quickly scanning the other people at the table. No one he actually knew, they were all in the band.
John gladly let Sherlock take the seat next to him, some people at the table making quiet remarks about Sherlock being in orchestra, causing John to glare at them before speaking.
“What’cha got?” John pointed lightly at the score folder the violinist was carrying.
Sherlock glanced down at the folder, pulling it slightly closer to him with a smirk, “It’s a bit of a secret,”
John gave a slight smile and took a bite of his food, shaking his head. “That’s no fun.”
Sherlock scoffed, “Not everything is fun, and this morning is evidence enough for that.” He felt his stomach grumble and eyes the empty food bar.
The blond turned a bit red before taking his extra plate, containing an apple, tater tots and a hamburger and pushing it towards the other in an offering manor. “Here, I figured you might want something.”
“Thanks you.” Sherlock said, taking his fork and stabbing it into the tater tots before popping one into his mouth. “So, did you have any punishment for being late?”
“I had to run some laps, nothing big.” John shrugged it off and took a few tater tots in his own mouth before looking around and seeing some people from their table stand up and leave, giving John a quick goodbye.
“I see,” He set his fork down. “Did anything of interest happen during your practice session?” The curly haired teen took hold of his apple, feeling the obligation of making small talk in return for the food.
John smiled slightly at the small talk, finding it rather enjoyable as he took small sips of his coffee as he looked over the brim of his cup at Sherlock. “Anderson tripped during drill and Moriarty got a solo in our opener.” He sighed tiredly. “You?”
“Well, Molly managed to break her E string in the middle of practice and Ms. Hudson and I had a small chat together.” He took a bite from the apple. “James with a solo? Oh how I pity all of those who are forced to hear it.”
He chuckled and shook his head, stacking his plates before checking his watch. 12:25, sectionals weren’t until one. “Do you want to go to the cabin with me? Maybe we could try dancing again.” John laughed and finished his coffee off, looking to Sherlock with a teasing expression.
“So that’s why you two were gone,” A sing song voice from behind them sounded. “Dancing.” He emphasized the word, as if it were a taboo.
“Yes, dancing. Something that you aren’t able to do without looking like a paraplegic platypus.” Sherlock retorted, looking at Moriarty with an annoyed glance.
John sighed and turned to see the black haired male. “Screw off, Jim.” The blond scoffed and stood, looking over to Sherlock before picking up his plates and cup, walking away from the two.
Moriarty shrugged his shoulders. “I was planning on screwing something, but the word off wasn’t what I had in mind.” He winked at them before walking off, himself.
“Ah, the always eloquent James is a delight.” Sherlock spoke sarcastically as he threw his half eaten apple away and walked in attempt to catch up with John, who had stopped to wait for Sherlock by the door as he grabbed a pear to possibly eat later.
“You two are very… tense.” The trumpet plated raised his eyebrow before closing the dining hall doors behind them.
The curly haired teen scowled. “Tense is an accurate word.”
“Wanna explain that?” John laughed and looked up at Sherlock as they made their way to the cabin.
Sherlock looked down towards the ground, kicking a small rock out of his way, contenting himself with a sulking silence.  The other took that as a no, decided not to push the matter and shoved his hand in his pocket as they enjoyed the silence of the woods which engulfed their cabin.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
John was not a nosy person, but he was rather curious as to what was the cause of tension between Sherlock and Moriarity. During the band practice session, where the whole band was sitting in the pavilion working on the music, they were allowed a few minutes of break time. The blond walked over to the alto sax section, looking for a certain musician.
“Oh, hey there Johnny boy, what brings you to this side of the band?” James looked up to John with his regular cocky smirk from his seat on the table.
John ignored the other’s smug look. “I just wanted to know what made things so tense between you and Sherlock.” The trumpet asked, instrument in hand as he attempted to keep his voice down.
John merely chuckled, a devious glint in his eyes as he dismissed the question with a shake of his head. There was a whistle, causing John to turn his attention back to the band instructor and leave Moriarty with a dismissed wave. Once he’d gotten back to his spot on the picnic table, under the pavilion, he realized the orchestra had been released early to watch, causing John to smile slightly as he flipped through his music to find his spot.
“Okay everyone, let’s play from measure twelve to the end of the opener and we’ll be done until after dinner.” Lestrade, the drum major standing atop one of the picnic tables announced as he raised his hands so that he could conduct.
There was a moment of still silence before Lestrade brought his hands down on the first beat, immediately music resonated through the air, ominous, dark, much like the calm before the storm. After a few measures the melody had turned into a controlled chaos of many different, precise rhythms that miraculously fit together. At one point all of the rhythms met and stopped abruptly, allowing for Moriarty’s solo which was reminiscent of a lost child desperately trying to find their way home, a sad and slow melody. After the solo the rest of the band slowly crescendos in with chords to fit under the final note as everyone slowly faded into silence.
By the end of the phrase John’s eyebrows were knit together, he always messed up that part, with a sigh he listened to Lestrade dismiss them and set his instrument in the case, groaning as he rubbed his hand over his face. Thank God for break.
“Hey, John,” His name was stressed, causing the trumpet to whip around and face his rather annoying cabin mate. Before John could open his mouth, Jim lightly gripped the strap of John’s wife beater and gently tugged him close, whispering in John’s ear with a smirk, watching the poor boy’s face turn white and his eyes grow. “See you later, Johnny.” James sung innocently as he pulled away from the other band member. Sherlock, who had been with the rest of the orchestra and listening to the band, was pleasantly surprised when he heard the band start to play. He would have to ask to see the music score later, he made a mental note. When the music stopped he politely clapped and was about to walk over to John to tell him that he did a good job, but stopped when he saw James lean in and whisper something to the blond. Shit.
Once the saxophone player had walked away Sherlock quickly moved to the other’s side. “What’s wrong? What did Jim say to you?”
John blinked a few times once Sherlock had come to his side; looking over his shoulder to see James smirk at him, and place a finger his own lips and mimic a shushing noise, causing John to shake his head. “Uh, nothing.” The male shook his head and swallowed. “Nothing at all.” He stated a little more confidently as he furrowed his brows. His skinned burned where James touched him, and it was anything but pleasant, it was hate for the words the black haired male had spoken that made him simply resent his touch.  John hadn’t realized but his jaw was tensed and fist clenched around his instrument. He forced himself to regain his calm stature and look up at the taller violinist.
Sherlock eyes the other up and down; it was obvious that it wasn’t ‘nothing’.  If he had to put a word on it, John appeared to be seething. “If it was something that James said then it’s more than likely some lie he spouted just to get under your skin. Trust me, I’ve had the misfortune of knowing him since I was thirteen.”
John took a deep breath and looked Sherlock in the eye for a swift moment; he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. The trumpet plated grabbed Sherlock’s arm with his free hand, setting his instrument down as he pulled the taller teen into a small practice room, quickly shutting the door. “You slept with James?!”
A shocked look quickly spread across Sherlock’s face. One of the few moments of his life he was not sure how to respond. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak. “I don’t see how that is any of your business.” Sherlock defensively snapped at John.
“The blond blinked and released his hold on Sherlock’s arm. It wasn’t any of his business; maybe he was being too defensive of the matter. He didn’t know what to say so he simply sighed and punched the bridge of his nose with a nod.  James Moriarty sure knew how to get in his head, and John hated it.
Sherlock gave a small huff, looking down at the frustrated teen. He knew he ought to tell John, it might make him less frustrated, but at the same time it might cause him to want to have nothing to do with Sherlock. The violinist didn’t like the thought of John being upset with him; he was the closest thing he had to a friend.  “Look, John,” The male tentatively began, running a hand through his curly locks. “It happened during my freshman year with him. We were both conducting personal experiments in the chemistry classroom, and no that’s not a euphemism, and it just happened. If he had told you is was a relationship it would be a lie, it wasn’t rational, it was completely physical.”
The trumpet player kept still and silent before nodding, shifting awkwardly on his feet a few times as he crossed his arms. “Okay, Sherlock, all right.” The smaller teen felt stupid for getting upset to begin with. “Sorry, I—pried,” He poked at his brain for the correct wording. “I just-“ It came to his attention that John didn’t actually know how to end that sentence. He licked his lips and reached out for the door handle so they didn’t have to be so cramped.
Without properly thinking about what he was doing, Sherlock reached out and grabbed John’s arm before he opened the door. “I’m serious, John. James and I were just curious teenagers at the time.” After finishing his sentence he let John open the door to leave and Sherlock followed close behind him, glancing about the relatively empty pavilion. Sitting on top of one of the tables was Sebastian, who was polishing off his trombone and sent the two of them a glare on sight.
John had straightened himself out once they left the room, catching where Sherlock’s gaze was and following it to find the rather intimidating trombone player glaring at them, leaving John uneasy. He lightly clasp on Sherlock’s sleeve, pulling him down slightly as they began to leave the pavilion. “I take it he knows and is… hatefully jealous?”
Sherlock nodded. “I would assume so; I don’t see any other reason for him to detest me more than other people.”
The violinist started toward the cabin, ignoring the ever present glare from Sebastian. He knew that if he sat in the cabin long enough Jim would be there and then Sherlock would be able to classify himself as a murderer. It would be an understatement if he said that he was simply annoyed with the saxophone player, he didn’t need anybody going about telling people of an irrelevant part of the past, especially when it could potentially hinder his future if certain people were to find out.
“That’s not a good look on your face.” John stated, looking up to the other before walking up the steps to their cabin and opening the door, waiting for a rather angry Sherlock to reply.
“It’s a look that I get when I’m thinking of as many different ways to kill a person with a reed and not get caught.” He smirked as he thought of another method. “I have thirteen so far.”
John’s eyes widen slightly. “Whoa there, no fighting. You and Jim need to settle this.” The trumpet palter shut their door and found the motivation to crawl up into his own bunk before plopping down.
Sherlock scowled. “That’s what I intend to do.” He sat in his bunk, glaring at the currently empty one across from him, where a rather annoying saxophone normally slept.
“Can you settle it without killing each other?” John asked, raising an eyebrow as he thought to himself, probably not. He sighed and moved to lean off of his bunk and glance at Sherlock.
“I’ll jump off a building before that happens.” Sherlock stated, still glaring at the other bunk, as if it would catch on fire if he glare intensely enough. “He and I settling things is highly unlikely.”
John sighed and gave Sherlock a glare, crunching his eyebrows together in silence. “You’re both going to make this week torture.”
The door clicked open and the currently disliked male walked in with a content smirk on his face. Immediately Sherlock stood and walked over to the teenager, muttering insults and obscenities under his break.
“What’s wrong, Sherly? I thought you knew I was /treble/ when I walked into the chemistry lab.” James started laughing a bit too hard at his own pun.
John gripped the side of his bunk and hopped over it to land, crouched, on the ground. He straightened himself and walked up behind Sherlock, thought made no attempt to jump between them yet, simply raising an eyebrow at Jim’s bad pun.
Sherlock cocked his head to the side. “I knew you have poor timing, especially in situations like this, but do you really think that this is an appropriate time for puns?”
“It’s always time to be punny, Sherlock.” Jim snickered and pushed past the duo, going to his bunk. “I just gotta get Sebby some clothes; he’d managed to make a mess of himself.” The black haired male grabbed some clothes and turned back to the others.
The violinist stepped in the other’s way, hindering his ability to exit. “Did Moran make a mess of himself or did you make a mess of him? Pigs are rather filthy animals.” Sherlock asked, glaring down at the other. Jim simply gave an innocent smirk as an answer, causing John to input in the situation. “You two are acting like children.” He murmured, sighing.
Sherlock gave a huff; he knew that if he continued to talk to James he would just get angrier. He let out an angry grunt and crossed his arms across his chest. With a sigh John took a step between the two, causing Jim to frown in an unamused way.
“You guys are so boring.” The man huffed before leaving the cabin, causing John and Sherlock to look at each other, John scowling.
“He is absolutely the most insufferable human being on this planet. I wouldn’t doubt it if someone had told me that there was a gas leak in the chemistry lab during freshman year.” Sherlock huffed, picking up his music score to start composing and blow off some steam.
John shook his head and peered at the score, noticing it was Achilles’ Wrath and sitting down next to Sherlock. “Why do you have that?”
Quickly Sherlock snapped the folder closed, not wanting the other to know of the added orchestra portion. He had promised Mrs. Hudson that he would keep it a secret, seeing as how it was to be a surprise. “Oh, I must have been given the wrong score, I’ll have to go and ask Mrs. Hudson for the correct one.” Sherlock stood and started towards the door.
With a small tilt of his head, John moved as he was going to follow, but instead spoke. “Well, I’m going to be in Popcorn hollow, if you decide you have some free time.” The blond gave a nod and was off to get his trumpet.
“Good thing, I brought my ear plugs then.” Sherlock uttered under his breath as he headed towards one of the winding trails. The trumpet player shook his head with a sigh and headed off, deciding to grab some of his personal music to play.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sherlock walked into the orchestra room, dropping his music on a stand and approaching Mrs. Hudson.
“Oh hellos there, Sherlock, are you here to get some extra practice in?”  Mrs. Hudson smiled up at the teen.
Sherlock shook his head. “No, I just want some extra pieces to sight read; I’ve already exhausted my own music.”
Ms. Hudson shifted through her sheets. “I’m sorry dear; I don’t have anything you haven’t seen.”
“Fine.” He picked up his violin case and his binder and walked out. He found himself musing down a random path, trying to mentally compose some of his own music as he walked, humming the melody in his mind before a counteractive rhythm come from down the path, deciding to follow the path and discover the source of the music.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~