Chapter Forty Seven

Sherlock couldn't wait until physics. As Sherlock was smart for his age, he was in higher level classes. Normally, however, Sherlock didn't like physics. Well, he liked it because it was a science. But it was his least-liked science. He preferred Chemistry, and after that, Biology, because you could still study the body. Physics, however, was probably his least liked. He liked Newton's Laws of Motion – those made sense, and it was easier to figure things out with them in hand. Like the Third One. Every force has a reaction force. If you're going to jump off something, you'll leave a little dent in the wood. That dent tells him that you were jumping off it.

A few days earlier, he had heard that they were getting a new teacher. He had put it in the back of his mind, like Mycroft had taught him. It wasn't until today that he thought about it again.

He couldn't wait to meet him.

...

Sherlock walked into the class and sat down. The other boys filed in, in a hurry to meet this mysterious teacher that was the father of the odd girl. Speaking of Rissa…

She sat in the front corner of the room. In a desk not far away from the teacher's desk. She seemed to be involved in some kind of work. She looked up, and smiled at him.

Sherlock felt an odd feeling towards her. It was somewhat close to what he felt for Mycroft, yet different. Better.

He remembered what his parents had spoken about friends. He wondered…this girl? Could she be his first? Her intellect was certainly strong enough, yet he figured that it was from a more creative perspective. She had admitted to clearly not knowing a thing about that boy earlier, that she had just seen what he had done, and noticed the affect his actions had done on his body.

He wondered if she was this smart naturally, or if it also had to do with how she was raised. What would her father be like?

Anyway, now Sherlock had a way to point out people addicted to smoking – by the orange nicotine marks it made on their fingers.

Rissa had gone back to her work, and all the boys were looking at her. First, this random girl appears in the mess hall, and now, she's suddenly in one of their classes?

But there attention was diverted as someone else entered the room. He was very tall, with a wide chin. And was dressed extravagantly, with a pink shirt, a tweed jacket, and, to top it all off, a bowtie.

Sherlock's first impression of his teacher was that he was a genius. His second was that he wasn't human.

Oh, yes. This person certainly wasn't human.

...

He started off by clasping his big hands together and saying, "So. Look at all of you. Bright, shining faces!" He turned to the board, and picked up a piece of chalk. "Now my name…is Doctor John Smith. You may call me Doctor, nothing else."

Sherlock thought that was a bit odd. This man was certainly interesting. He also realized that this man was British, while his daughter was clearly from America.

"What if we need to talk to you in another form. Like, today, Doctor taught us, blah, blah, blah," another student asked.

Before the Doctor could say anything, Sherlock spoke up, "You would put an article in front of the word 'Doctor',"

"What?" a student asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "What are you, a buffoon? An article is a type of adjective. A, an, the…those are examples of articles. You would simply call him, the Doctor."

There was silence in the room. Slowly, the Doctor put his hand up and pointed at Sherlock. "You're correct, Mr…."

"Holmes. Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said.

The Doctor's mouth fell open. His finger did that thing where it bends forward in surprise. Slowly, the Doctor started nodding his head up in down, his mouth still open. "Oh. Right. I see." He looked over at Rissa. She shrugged.

"Anywho," the Doctor said, getting back on task, and clapping his hands together once more. He did seem to do that quite a lot. "This," he gestured to Rissa. "Is my daughter, Rissa. She's my…" he trailed off. "My uh…"

"Teaching Assistant," Rissa finished, without looking up from her work.

"Ah! Yes! My Teacher Assistant!" He said, happily, before a thought struck him, and he turned his lips into a confused frown. He turned to Rissa. "Hang on, teaching assistant? What do I need one of those for?"

Rissa put her face in her hands. "I swear to God," she mumbled. "It's like taking care of an overgrown child."

The whole class could hear her because the whole class was silent. They had the class's undivided attention. For once, everyone was watching. This was by far one of the most interesting things that had happened at the school in years.

Rissa stood up and walked to the front of the class. "This is my father." She gestured to him. "He is brilliant. He will probably be one of the best teachers that you've ever had. And the things you will do and learn in this class…" she leaned forward on that table, her eyes twinkling, "are dangerous. So, tell me. Are you up for the challenge?"

...

Physics was everyone's new favorite class, that was for sure. They liked this 'Doctor' who taught them their lessons in a fun, interesting, and easy-to-understand way. His daughter was very fun, as well.

Sherlock loved him. He was a teacher who was brilliant. Brilliant, eccentric, and a mystery.

This father and daughter pair, they would be very fun.

...

On his way out, Sherlock saw Rissa ask the Doctor about something. She pointed at Sherlock, and he saw the Doctor nod.

Rissa ran to catch him at the door. "Hey, Sherlock!"

"Yes?" He paused at the door, turning to look down at her.

"Instead of having dinner in the mess hall…," Rissa hesitated. "Would you like to join my father and I?"

Sherlock smiled. A big, real smile. He hasn't smiled like this in a long time. Actually, he couldn't quite recall when he last smiled like this. Most of his smiles were merely smirks.

"I'd love to," he said, turning and walking out the door.

Oh, he couldn't wait to unravel the mystery of this mysterious, excited girl, Rissa, and her even more puzzling father.

Oh yes, this was going to be very fun indeed.