"I don't want to go," Sherlock muttered sourly as he walked into the building with Mycroft.
The older Holmes was having none of it and just kept his pace. "Well, then I'll guess you'll just be suffering for the next 9 months, won't you? Now you go off to class, you're already late because of your silly whining this morning. I'll be with the principal."
Unhappily, Sherlock did as he was told and searched for classroom 221. Second floor, he assumed, trudging up the steps and all too quickly finding the room. He waltzed in and all eyes glued to him, not that he cared. Much.
"Sherlock Holmes, I presume?" The teacher—30, divorced, judging by the ring line on his finger—smiled. "So nice of you to finally join us. I'm Dr. Watson, I'll be your professor—"
"Obviously, who else would you be, being old as you are and standing in front of my class. I do hope you won't be this obvious the entire year, I have been informed that there will be consequences for skipping classes."
"—for the entire year. Now why don't you just take a seat and shut it or I'll give you detention, alright?" Dr. Watson sighed and turned back to the class, but Sherlock could see he was as embarrassed as he was touchy. The teen shrugged and sat down in the nearest empty seat as the professor continued his lesson.
"Hello," the girl beside Sherlock whispered and he reluctantly looked up at her. "I'm Molly Hooper, it's a pleasure."
"Can't say the same," the boy responded, looking back down at his phone.
As if hearing the exchange, the older man at the front of the room cleared his throat. "Sherlock Holmes, I do hope you won't be causing trouble all year. Rule number one: no mobiles in class."
"You are such a bother," Sherlock muttered, not stopping his fingers from flying over the keys.
"Excuse me?"
"He said he's sorry," Molly answered for him.
The professor sighed loudly. "Alright, Molly, since you're the person he's least likely to punch, would you mind keeping him in check?"
"Of course," she agreed, sliding a hastily written note towards Sherlock, who rolled his eyes and shoved his phone in his pocket.
Please be good? The class is only 1.5 hours. xx
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the paper and leaned back in his chair, deciding it best to just go into his mind palace for the rest of the period.
"Sherlock, a word?" a voice called to the teen just before he slipped out the door. The brunette turned around and walked towards the teacher's desk.
"What is it now? Perhaps you'll call my brother and get me in trouble? You know, you can hardly blame me for not paying attention. Just because your marriage failed and your brother's an alcoholic doesn't mean you need to be so damn boring."
Dr. Watson started, then raised an eyebrow quizzically. "How did you know that?"
"Tan line on your ring finger, almost gone but not quite, so I'd say it's been a good few months, but not yet a year. Then the letter on your desk – from Harry, so that could be anyone, but it mentions 'parents' house', so obviously a sibling. The writing is shaky and the paper is stained with what must be vodka, judging by the vinegar smell old alcohol produces." Sherlock stopped talking and finally decided to look the teacher in the eye, expecting the worst. Nothing physical, like kids his age did, but threats were probably in order along with detention for the rest of the year.
"Brilliant," Dr. Watson breathed, looking at the student with a grin. "I was told you were a genius, no wonder you were more interested in your phone than me."
Sherlock's eyebrows pulled together. Brilliant? That was a new one. "Right. Well, obviously. May I go now?"
"Yeah, so long as you promise to at least pretend to be paying attention from now on. I know I'm just a teacher, but we have feelings as well, surprising as that is." His tone was serious, but his eyes and smile said he was playing, at least partly. "Now get, no need to keep all your teachers waiting, I may as well be the lucky one."
Sherlock nodded and left the room, now finding his thoughts doing what he wasn't able to in class – listen to the teacher. Or rather, think about him.
Brilliant, huh? His lips twitched into a small smile. Well, I certainly like to think so.