Roll Call

Mrs. Hudson braced herself before entering classroom 221 in building B. The Art of the Chore, Apple Bongs, and Proper Sports Car Care 101 was her least favorite class to teach.

She threw her purse on the desk provided and slipped out a notebook to take roll without addressing the class. There was no point in encouraging the bunch. They were already a rowdy mess and it was half past eight in the morning. Very unusual. She didn't trust them.

"Please vocalize when I call your name," she snapped. No one quieted. She sighed aloud and yelled, "Sebastian-"

"Wilkes?" A slimey stick of a boy piped up from the back of the classroom. In fact, he was so slimey he slipped right out of his chair and laid in the plank position on the floor for the duration of most classes. He was brunette. That's important.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "Moran."

"Here!" A young blonde girl cheered with sarcastic enthusiasm.

"Not you, Mary!" Mrs. Hudson shooed the girl's hand down.

Mary pouted and took aim with a spit wad. That girl head deadly accuracy. "You. Said. Morstan."

"No," Mrs. Hudson shook her head and avoided the grotesque missile -because she too had hidden talents. "Moran."

Sebastian Wilkes giggled into the dirt and linoleum, "She called her a moron."

"That's Anderson," another blonde muttered back. This one with a short buzz cut. He was less sarcastic and much more matter of fact.

Anderson was too much of a moron to hear.

He also wasn't in the room. So.

"Quiet down James," Mrs. Hudson scolded.

"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" A greasy snake of a boy screamed at the top of his lungs, and flipped his desk while he was at it. He nearly slipped from the grease but he shoved both hands thru his brunette hair to make himself look cool while he recovered. Because, yes, he was another brunette, thank you very much.

Mrs. Hudson sighed dramatically. "Sholto. Not you, Moriarty."

"Sorry," Mary chirped, "Did you say Morstan, Mary?"

"No. Moriarty!" Mrs. Hudson yelled.

"WHAT?!" James Moriarty threw his desk into the hall. "JuST shOOT mE ALReADY."

Mrs. Hudson grit her teeth. "Nothing." She marked her paper and muttered, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

"Present!" Mary waved.

"It's John actually," another, another blonde piped up. This one had the same haircut as Sholto but was wearing a sweater that engulfed him up to the ears. It was quite hard to hear him.

"I wasn't-" Mrs. Hudson waved them off. "Oh never mind." With another sigh she mumbled, "God give me the will-"

"Did you say Bill?" Another, another, another blonde piped up, also with the same haircut as the other two blonde boys but he was wearing a blanket over his head because he never really liked to show himself in canon. Classrooms And Numerous Other Networks.

It is very interesting how shew knew he was a blonde, isn't it?

Mrs. Hudson threw her pen at his blanket face. "No Murray!"

"Harry?" Another, another, another, another blonde (but this one a girl) lifted her head from her desk. She smelled of alcohol, regret, and debt. The college trifecta. "Yup. Here."

Mrs. Hudson pinched the bridge of her nose. "No one called you, Watson."

"What?" John's voice was extra muffled as the sweater engulfed his entire face now.

"Not you, John!" Mrs. Hudson yelled at the ceiling.

"No shit, Sherlock," Harry muttered.

"What?" Another stick of a boy, but not so much slimey as silky, drawled from behind his microscope, because he brought a microscope to class. Yeah.

He was another, another brunette. Also important.

"What?" Harry grunted.

"You said my name."

"Oh, that is not your name."

"Holmes!" Mrs. Hudson snapped.

"Present." A girl with half a head of brunette hair and half a head of red -which was cheating- piped up. "In the sense that I am in the reality you perceive. What's that like for you?"

Mrs. Hudson plopped into her chair. "Don't start, Eurus."

"Gesundheit," James Sholto called up.

Another, another, another brunette stuck his head timidly out of the closet and whispered. "Did someone say Knight?"

"SHUT UP, HENRY!" Everyone in the room yelled simultaneously.

Henry quickly locked himself back in the closet.

"I was talking to the other Holmes!" Mrs. Hudson groaned.

"Present, as well." A not-so-tubby-but-still-a-bit-chubby boy piped up. He was another, another, another, another person with decidedly brunette hair (not red, do your research)**. He looked longingly at a piece of cake before slapping it to the ground with his umbrella, muttering, "So I threw it on the ground."**

Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes in his direction. "Not you either, Mycroft."

"Sorry, did you just say Mike?" A bit-more-tubby-than-chubby boy with specs piped up. Another, another, another, another, another with brunette hair. "Because I'm here."

Mrs. Hudson grabbed her dyed hair -can you really trust the color?- and pulled. "Yes! Mike! Noted!" She planted her face into the desk and mumbled, "Golly."

"Me?" Asked a tiny, quiet another, another, another, another, another, another brunette. She was actually hiding under her desk so it was hard to describe her in any other way.

"No, I think she said Sally," said another, another, another, another, another, another, another brunette, but she was too busy glaring at everyone to turn towards her teacher.

Mrs. Hudson groan-yelled into the desk. "Donovan, Hooper, everyone quiet, don't make me beg."

"Greg?" A young boy who somehow managed to beat the hair system by having gray hair piped up. If she looked closely, she could see it was because he dumped a full container of salt and a full container of pepper on his head every morning. You could flip him upside down over your steak! "Yup I'm here."

Mrs. Hudson pulled all of the herbal soothers out of her purse. "I give up. We're starting the lesson. How to get green-"

"Did someone say Irene?" Another, another, another, another, another, another, another, another brunette walked into the room and cracked a bullwhip on the floor, accidently-on-purpose hitting Wilkes across the back.

John went full turtle into his sweater, Sherlock rolled his eyes into the microscope, and Molly screamed for a full five minutes straight. She even cracked a window with that high pitched concerto.

Mrs. Hudson crawled under her desk and curled into a ball. Why did she choose to be a teacher when she could have been a housekeeper?

Absent: Sebastian Moran Philip Anderson Mrs. Hudson's Sanity

AN:

It was 1am.
I promised myself to never write anything or to anyone past midnight.
I didn't listen.
I didn't listen!

If you do distinguish who is speaking by hair color, I would say I was sorry, but I really just hope you learned your lesson. ;D

**Links available thru my Ao3 Account