Hello! It is with great anxiety that I reveal to you the first chapter of my Austen adaptation. And I'm terrified, quite frankly, because Jane Austen is a god, and I am merely a girl from Wolverhampton with an unhealthy interest in Sherlock. I love her books more than most people, let that much be known. I really am so sorry if I murder this. If I murder this I shall stop, I promise.

This whole thing came about from the realisation that Sherlock is a very Mr Darcy figure. Then the idea sort of grew in my head and, well, this happened. I hope you like it. What makes it even scarier is that it's a COLLEGE FIC. Oh yeah. A college fic. Scary, huh? It gives me the shivers. I really really really hope this is OK.

Anyway, just to clarify on the age thing- Obviously, they're all random ages, so I kind of planned it out to work like this:

Third Year Students- Lestrade, Mycroft, Anthea.

Second Year Students- Sherlock, John, Anderson, Sally, Molly.

First Year Students- Harry, Mary, Kitty.

I kind of just gave away the characters, didn't I? No matter. Have a fic. Just a short one first of all, I'm testing it out.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a student in possession of some form of drugs, must be in want of more drugs. However, when such stimulants are unavailable, they are forced to make do with other means. Most, in fact, turn to something that can often be far more intoxicating than narcotics- gossip. That is what John found himself engaged in, early one autumn afternoon.

John rented a flat in a converted Victorian house- as a student, he needed a flatmate, which he found in his childhood friend Greg Lestrade. They'd grown up in the same little town, gone to the same school and John had followed him to the same university one year later. Greg was a sensible guy in general, but with a desire to see the good in others that often wasn't there. He wouldn't have exchanged this good nature for the world, however; he was an ocean of calm in the building they lived in.

It was separated into three flats, one for each floor- Greg and John lived on the first floor, with John's sister Harry living on the floor above. Harry, whilst intelligent, was headstrong and foolish, and more interested in university as a way to meet new people than as a means for education. She had befriended the equally ridiculous girls who lived on the ground floor- Kitty, who was obsessed with material goods and following Harry around like a lost puppy, and Mary, who was busy worrying about the bands she "discovered" becoming mainstream and therefore sell outs to the mass market. John wasn't on particularly good terms with the three- Harry drank too much, this was clear, and was a bad example to the two women. He loved his sister, but John was often exasperated by her behaviour. The only other sensible person around was Harry's flatmate Molly, a kind girl who John had befriended quickly.

It was in their flat that he was sat, absentmindedly flicking through the new copy of Empire magazine on her coffee table. He heard the door to the flat slam shut with a clunk.

"Did you hear about Mrs Hudson's new tenants?"

Mrs Hudson was their landlady- a woman who owned several buildings around London, which she rented out for profit. No-one quite knew how she could afford this, though it was suspected that her husband's life insurance had set her up comfortably. No-one knew quite why her husband had been sentenced to death in Florida either, but no-one wanted to contemplate it.

John sighed and placed it down on the table. "What about them?"

Harry dropped the shopping bags she was holding onto the kitchen side. "A Mycroft Holmes, his two siblings and a friend of theirs. They rented the whole building- young, rich and probably available."

John took a sip of his tea. "Which one of them?"

"Does it matter?"

John laughed in spite of himself. "Harry, you are unbelievable."

Harry giggled. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Mrs Hudson was telling me about them in the corridor- apparently, they moved from Cambridge. 'Family issues'."

"And they could still go here? They must be pretty intelligent."

"Or pretty rich," Harry said with delight. She sat down on the sofa beside him. "Either way, that's good for me. I wonder if I can casually introduce myself…"

"I've already seen them," John said quietly.

Harry gaped. "You have? Why didn't you say?"

"You didn't ask."

"Well?" She grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "What were they like?"

"They were…" John searched for a word. "Intimidating. I only saw a man and a woman. To be fair, I had a chat to one of them. Mycroft, I think his name was. He was… pleasant."

Harry let out a tiny squeal of delight. "Introduce me!"

John rolled his eyes. "No."

"Why?" she whined.

"Because you'll make an arse out of yourself. Besides, I'm sure you'll see them around. Who knows? Maybe Mrs Hudson will be after one of them, get herself a toy boy."

Harry snorted, and John grinned. There was a sudden knock at the door. Harry sighed and got up, opening the door to a frantic Kitty and Mary.

"Downstairs!" Kitty chanted in a stage whisper. "Downstairs, now! The new people!"

"Oh for God's sake," John moaned. "You're acting like children." He followed them out onto the staircase, where the three women crouched and looked down through the banisters.

Greg left their flat on the floor below and stared incredulously up at them. "What's happening?"

John shrugged, exasperated, but they both continued to stare down at the young man deep in conversation with Mrs Hudson. Behind him, he could vaguely make out another man, thinner and slightly shorter, though his face was obscured.

"So you're sure that this is alright?" the taller man said smoothly, his deep voice moving Mary to silent hysterics.

"Quite alright, dear," she replied. "Your rent should be fine a little late. Is that all?"

"Um," he said, placing a hand on his head. "We're very new around here… I don't suppose that you happen to know some other students that we could ask for… I can't quite think of the word. Advice?"

Mrs Hudson smiled. "Of course. Practically all of my tenants are students; in fact, I think some of them are in. I'll just have a look."

Harry sent John a panicked look. Greg hissed a quick "Inside!", and they all rushed quickly into Harry's flat.

"Everyone look nonchalant!" Mary cried, as they arranged themselves in 'natural' positions around the flat.

Kitty answered the knock at the door. "Hello Mrs Hudson," she said sweetly. "And who's this?"

Mrs Hudson laughed and walked into the flat. "This is Mycroft, and his brother Sherlock, they live in some of my other flats. They've just moved down here."

"Yes. John, isn't it?" Mycroft said, turning towards him. He was a tall man with dark hair, neatly parted. Unusually, he wore a suit, even now, but he was not as professional and formal in his speech. John nodded in reply. "I was wondering if you could give us any advice as to where to go?" he continued.

"I, er," Greg began. "We could always take you out with us one night? As, you know, a welcome. We could introduce you to some new people."

The expression on Mycroft's face changed at the sight of Greg. He blushed a faint shade of red, so faint you could barely see it. "That would be excellent. Thank you." He extended a hand. "Mycroft."

Greg took it. "Greg." The handshake lingered for longer than was strictly necessary. John attempted to catch Greg's eye, but was unable to.

Mycroft seemed to snap out of his confusion. "And, er, this is my brother, Sherlock."

Sherlock uttered a brief "hello" to them all, but did not return any of their smiles. He too was dark haired, and just a fraction shorter than his brother. His frame was highlighted by his tailored clothes; a suit with no tie and an open collar, exposing his pale neck. But his eyes that struck John upon seeing them. His eyes were as cold as his personality, the silvery blue irises giving John a piercing stare for the briefest of moments.

"Well," Mycroft said, his smooth tone resuming. "That would be wonderful. What night would be good with you?"

"Tonight," Greg said quickly. Mary and Kitty could barely suppress their laughter. Greg ignored them. "We're going out tonight. We could come get you guys from your place at about 8?"

Mycroft smiled. "I would like that. Well, we'll see you then."

Greg smiled. Neither seemed quite what to do with themselves. Sherlock cut into the awkward silence. "Mycroft," he said, his voice even deeper than his brother's. "We have to go." He turned to them briefly. "Thank you."

Mycroft gave them a last smile before leaving. As soon as the door was shut, the group burst into rushed conversation.

"I'll give you something, Greg," Harry said, giving him a congratulatory pat on the back. "You got in there fast."

"Shut up," he muttered. "I didn't look too keen, did I John?"

John laughed. "God no. You keep worrying about looking obvious, but really you're too subtle mate. You like him then?"

"Yeah," Greg sighed. "He was so… classy. So unlike other men I've… Well. It probably won't come to anything."

"Don't be so negative," John replied. "Didn't you see his face? His jaw hit the floor. Believe me, he wants it to come to something."

Kitty sat in the chair opposite them. "I wish you hadn't invited them out tonight, Greg. I would have bought something to wear…"

"Do shut up, Kitty," Harry said casually. "You're not after that Mycroft, Greg is. Unless you fancy having a stab at the brother…"

"Ugh!" said Mary. "God, no! Who would? How cold, how unfeeling!"

Harry nodded knowingly. "I mean, he's attractive, certainly. But if looks could kill, then he'd have taken us all out. The poor little posh boy."

John said nothing, but simply thought for a few moments. Thought about those cold, unfeeling eyes.

This is agonizing. I know it's a little dull at the moment, but I swear it will get good. Please give it a chance!