A/N: Here is a Sherlock fic this time. I had the idea for this one when my grammar teacher was saying something and then, "…it's last vowel." Instantly I thought, "Sherlock's Grammar School: His Last Vowel." I cackled and wrote this.
Disclaimer: I don't own-ah, never mind. I refuse to do a boring disclaimer. Here we go: Kitty was led to a room with squishy, white walls. She sat down and took a nap while leaning against the wall, not bothering to worry about getting out. Her Sherlock would save her, right? A few hours later, when she woke up, she bounded around the room, knocking into the walls and giggling as she just bounced off them. Sherlock never came, but someone who looked like Molly Hooper gave her bubbles. Thus Kitty lived her days, bouncing and sleeping and blowing bubbles and eating skittles.
2nd Disclaimer: I do not own the definitions of a consonant and a vowel. I found them on google. Google is my friend.
His Last Vowel
Sherlock Holmes swept dramatically into the classroom, his long black coat billowing behind him in a manner reminiscent of Severus Snape. The fifteen students tried not to laugh; Professor Holmes, as he had asked (told) them to call him, tried to look cool, but in their opinion it really did not work.
Addressing the kindergarteners, Sherlock said in a voice that made everyone automatically sit up straighter and listen to, "Today we will be learning about vowels." Sherlock made sure that all fifteen of the children were looking at him and continued, "Vowels are the letters that are not consonants."
"What are consonants?" John Watson (sitting in the leftmost row, three seats back) asked.
Sherlock tried not to get too exasperated, as little John was one of the smarter (and more adorable) kids. "A consonant is a basic speech sound in which the breath is at least partly obstructed and which can be combined with a vowel to form a syllable. A vowel is a speech sound that is produced by comparatively open configuration of the vocal tract, with vibration of the vocal cords but without audible friction and is a unit of the sound system of a language that forms the nucleus of a syllable."
One child in the back row screamed and ran out the door; John looked as if he had not understood a word.
Sherlock sighed and dumbed down the explanation, "The vowels are the letters A, E, I, O, and U. And sometimes Y. Consonants are the rest."
"What are the rest?" asked a small, bored sounding James Moriarty (middle row, front seat).
Sherlock was disgusted. Do these children really not know the alphabet? His inner Mycroft responded, "Brother-dear, not all children are as smart as we were at their age." Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Sherlock said, "The other letters are: B, C, D F, G, H, J, K, L, M, N, P, Q, R, S, T, V, W, X, sometimes Y, and Z."
Sherlock wrote the alphabet in two groups on the whiteboard, under the headings "Vowels" and "Consonants". He made the children recite the letters for a while, making sure they had them all memorized. As the school nurse, Molly, had said, "If you make sure that the kiddies know and remember what you've taught them, then you won't have to do it again next class." Sherlock really didn't want to waste his time going over the same subject again. He pulled out his phone and checked the time: 2:30, fifteen minutes left before the Small Terrors would be out of his hair for the weekend.
Putting on a fake cheerful face, Sherlock stopped the droning memorization and told the kids that he would read them a story now. He pulled out The Little Red Hen (a favorite of his as a child because the hen didn't let the cat, the rat, and the dog eat the bread) and began to read. Despite his skill of being annoying whenever he spoke, Sherlock was a very good reader, captivating his audience (they didn't even notice when he read the same book twice more), and soon the fifteen minutes came to an end.
With great relief, Sherlock shooed the children out the door, cleaned the classroom, and left for a nice, relaxing weekend-which meant that, naturally, as soon as he was home, he got a call asking how a child (Philip Anderson) had been traumatized by the usage of big words. Sherlock smirked and started playing a happy melody on his violin.