It was September 6th, 2008, and the first day of term was drawing to a close at Gregson Academy. Students were filing through the corridors heading to the last twenty minutes of day one; form time.

Dr Watson was in Lab 4, waiting patiently for the same twenty people, who he'd had now for four years , to come bursting in through the door and enthuse about their summer vacation. It was a ridiculous timetable, for form to be placed at the end of the day. A few of Dr Watson's lot never actually turned up, and just went straight home, using 'it's a waste of time' as their reasoning.

Cindy Hussain was the first to enter, greeting him with the enthusiasm of a worm.

"Chin up, Cindy," Watson smiled, though he was sympathetic. He had endured three hours of angst-filled year nines who refused to comprehend the difference between a plant cell and an animal cell, and two hours of intense anatomy with his GCSE class. It was a hard slog for the first day back.

"You almost killed us with that lesson on kidneys, sir." Cindy grumbled. She was one of the eight students in the form who were taught by Dr Watson, all of whom viewed him as a highly competent teacher.

"Rubbish. You'll get it, give it time."

"It's the first day back though! You threw us into that?"

"It's your last year, get over it." Sir winked. She rolled her eyes and sat down on the middle left desk, just as six more students rolled in, all greeting Watson with equal amounts of enthusiasm as Cindy had declared.

"Miserable lot," John grumbled at the gloomy faces of the 15 year olds in the room. "You've only got one year stuck with me left. Do any of you know if Kevin's still going to keep up with his act of not showing up?"

"He might pop in this one form to let you know he's still alive," Mike replied as he set himself next to the tray of Bunsen burners. "But I wouldn't bet on him turning up for the rest of the year."

"Charming," Dr Watson muttered as seven more people filed into the room, the door thudding shut behind him. After a few minutes, the corridors died down, and Watson quickly counted the number of students in the lab. "Fourteen. That's six either late or skiving. You were wrong, Stamford; Kev's not bothered declaring himself. Nice to show how highly you think of people though!"

"He doesn't think highly of everyone," A spotty kid named Philip snickered. Mike turned around and whacked him on the shoulder. Their form tutor was ruffling through paper and barely listening.

"Why, who doesn't he think highly of?" He muttered, not very interested in the answer.

"That new chemistry teacher. He kicked off at him today sir, it was hilarious."

"Which new chemistry teacher?" This caught John's attention; Mike was usually a nice, relaxed teenager, who got on well with everyone. There were three new members in the science department this term and from the top of his head, he couldn't remember who had replaced Mike's. What that new teacher had done to frustrate Mike, he couldn't fathom.

"That tall dickhead." Philip grinned.

"Watch your mouth, and 'tall' doesn't narrow it down, funnily enough." Although he'd never admit it, with his height, the majority of the science department were taller than poor John.

"Cause you're tiny," Molly interjected.

"Shut up, I'm taller than half of you. Which teacher?"

"Mr Holmes." Mike muttered. "He's smart, very smart, I'll grant. But awful."

"So he's clever but a crap teacher?" He frowned. John wasn't head of department so he hadn't been involved with hiring, but from what he had heard, Mr Holmes had seemed like the best man for the job.

"Oh, no he's a good teacher. Explains things very well. He's just very… subtle."

"What do you mean? I've yet to meet him."

"Like… he thinks he's better than everyone. He's a complete prat. He just slips in insults as if we're all beneath him, and he's some super hero." Philip vented, cutting across Mike before he could explain. "Mike didn't get equilibrium, but before Mr Holmes explained it, he sighed and said 'what it must be like in your funny little minds'. And he kept muttering 'idiot' after every question!" Philip was getting really angry now. His long black hair was getting ruffled and his eyes were bulging with annoyance. "And then he started to pick at people! Like, if they weren't listening, he'd point out personal things! The man is a psycho, he seemed to know that Tessa had spent the entire lesson texting her ex-boyfriend, arguing with him about their broke up two nights ago, because her nail varnish was chipped!"

"Alright Phil, calm down. He just seems uncomfortable to me. Probably nerves." Rule one of being a teacher- never agree with a student about another teacher's flaws.

"No, sir." Mike started. "I'm not good at chemistry. I know it. I asked a lot of questions, and he was so… patronising with the answers. He then suggested that my lack of understanding was due to my limited attention span, after finding out that a close friend had died. And he was right! How could he know that?"

"I'm so sorry, Mike." John frowned.

"It's alright. Maybe I am too distracted. Mum said I should have this week off… I need to keep acting like things are normal."

The room turned uncomfortably quiet.

"Long story short, Mr Holmes is a cock."

"Philip, being in your final year does not grant you permission to openly swear about other members of staff in front of me. This is your last warning." John said half-heartedly. To be frank, he didn't care. It was just rules. "At the end of form, I'll find him and talk to him. Is it Lab 6?"

The four students who had Mr Holmes in the room nodded.

"Good. I've needed an excuse to introduce myself to him anyway. Who had a good summer?"

The rest of form consisted of a glum Mike Stamford, a thrilling tale of how Ted had tried almost been arresting for accidentally 'breaking and entering' into a farmer's un-fenced field of cows, seven detailed tales of intense parties and a few dull announcements that John found incredibly boring to announce.

"Been up to much, sir?"

"Not really. You all have thrilling lives which I can't compete with. I won't bore you with my own."

"Meet someone?"

John glared darkly at Ted who was grinning.

"No, thanks for reminding me. I'm also thinking of moving house; I need a new place. The current one reminds me too much of the war." John shuddered. Philip muttered something to Mike, who supressed (badly, thought John) a guffaw. John stiffened. "Something funny about the war, Stamford?"

Mike's eyes widened.

"No! No, Phil was just laughing about you and Mr Holmes living together. Sir was going on and on about how exhausted he was from trying to find a new tenant, and that was his excuse for having no patience with us asking questions."

"Right," John nodded, relaxing.

The bell went.

"Hope you're all perkier tomorrow, you grumpy gits. Except you, Ted. Your farmer tale was the most exciting thing I've heard since I found out the dinner ladies had baked brownies for lunch."

"Oh, ha, ha." Ted grimaced. "See you,"

"Bye,"

The door closed softly behind him, and John realized how much he relied on those few teenagers for company. They had been his first form as they had joined when he did- all of them were therefore ill adjusted to the school. They all grew up in it at the same pace. John would miss them all incredibly.

He wasn't a boring man- not at all. He was a trained doctor and had fought in a war for Christ's sake. He was just… lonely. Being shot had left him wounded mentally. No one quite understood his history, and he felt alone in the sense that he had seen a whole other world to everyone. He couldn't stay in touch with the other veterans- he wanted to put the war behind him. There was no one who could understand the thrill and torture of war other than ex-soldiers, but as he had ex-communicated them, who was there to talk to?

Sure, he had acquaintances. Sure, he could get along with people. But he was unattached. He didn't have anything to wake up for, except his work. With a crappy family, the only people he really cared about were the kids in his form, and they were all going to leave in less than a year. Never to see him again.

John wasn't very sentimental, but he knew he'd have difficulty adjusting to a new bunch of kids. He hated the year 7s.

And then there was Mr Holmes. John knew Mike- he had breezed through puberty, sailed through his hormones and was outburst free. Never had he heard anything negative from him about another person, so this Holmes teacher must have been really nasty. Suddenly filled with adrenaline and craving a good shouting match, John jumped to his feet, scooped up his keys and locked the door behind him.