A/N: Once again, this ones a bit short, sorry. I myself however find it kind of exciting, just because of the fun I had thinking through and writing it. Hopefully you enjoy it as well. Also, chapter eleven may be up earlier than usual, just because the last two chapters have been short, and one was late. Also, I think you guy'll enjoy it. But we'll see how I'm feeling, how much homework I have, and how dense it is to edit. In the meantime, enjoy this, and once again thanks for all your reads and reviews. :)
In the morning, Sherlock woke up to a coldness about the room, and after a moment to spend fully waking up, he heard the very distinct, recognizable, and dreaded sound of rain pounding on the rooftop. Well this was just great. Another rainy day. Which also meant he couldn't go outside. Meaning, a wasted saturday. Also John had promised to come outside, but Sherlock figured he wouldnt. The rain above his head sounded pretty harsh and heavy. No doubt a person would get soaked after being outside for no more than two seconds. Also, the field would be muddy, and somewhat flooded. The creek might overflow, and the forest floor would just be terrible with wet leaves, droplets falling from the tree branches, and overall general wetness. Not a day to be outside. Not a day to play with the only other boy. And definately another day where Sherlock would either spend the whole time reading, or creating yet another pirate adventure. John would be smart enough to stay inside as well.
Sherlock sighed and pulled himself out of bed. What an awful way to spend the day.
The rest of the weekend rained as well, so Sherlock spent all day sunday inside too. He had finished reading Tom Sawyer. He didnt know how many times that was now. And then he had searched through his bookshelf until he found the sequel, if you could call it that, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Another book the eight-year-old enjoyed, although he had only read it two or three times. Not the same countless amount as he had Tom Sawyer. In the terrible weather, he even got about halfway through that book before monday.
But monday morning it was back to lessons, which Sherlock was not a hundred percent looking forwards to. Even though it was slightly drizzling, the clouds and the only light shade of grey that was the sky, told signs that it might clear up later. He didnt want to stay stuck in a chair at the dining room table listening to Mr. Richards and Mycroft talk intellectually while he sat there silently taking in what they said, most likely only to forget it a few months from now. He didnt understand why his parents had hired Mr. Richards as their tutor when he wasnt teaching them subjects or topics from a regular school.
Sherlock hated it. He hated it all. He didnt like this house or how they were in the middle of nowhere. He didnt like the rain. He didnt like not going to a school with other children. He didnt like his tutor. He didnt like his father being gone alot once again, but that was normal. Everything else was different and Sherlock hated it with all his heart. He wanted to go back to the city. But once again, he knew that would never happen.
But here he was now, sitting in the uncomfortable high-backed wooden chairs of their dining room. His legs were too short to touch the floor and they hung awkardly, swinging back and forth out of habit and boredom. Mycroft, much older, smarter, and supposedly more mature, sat up straight, hands folded in front of him on the tabletop. Mr. Richards had just sat across the surface from the two of them. He didnt have anything set in front of him at the moment. This lesson wouldn't require it until later. But his leather bag sat on the floor by his feet, waiting for that time. He began.
"Observation is one of the greatest skills you can have. Not only do you have to see things, you have to pay attention to what you see. You asked when we first met if I was a professor. Your reason, simply because I looked like I was. What made you think of that, or peeked your interest in saying so? What caught your eye, allowing you to send the message to your brain, presenting the idea of the possibility that I may be a professor?"
The question was directed at Sherlock. The eight-year-old shrugged. "I don't know, your clothes and your glasses," he pointed out quietly.
"Yes, that is one way. But your way, your minor observations, can only lead you to assumption. But from there, you must take it further. To fact. For example, say on the day we met, I had carried my bag with me. It being closed, you might notice it was stuffed quite full. But that doesn't help you much. You must go further into detail in order to 'pay attention' to your observations. So you look further. You can notice that on outside, a bulge like so," Mr. Richards had set his bag on the tabletop and faced it towards the two boys to give them a visual. "is fairly rectangular, has sharp edges, and takes up a good portion of the bag. You can can tell from how much it's popping out, that it's width might be great as well. So you figure it's a book of sorts. Now, what might you be able to concur, or in your idea, assume from this piece of information."
"That you are extremely studious," Mycroft spoke up this time.
"Or maybe he's returning a book to a friend," Sherlock piped in.
"Yes, both are equally logical. However either one could be truth, not very helpful when avoiding assumptions. So which is more likely? Do you suppose I might carry a book this big and heavy inside, to sit with me, unused, when my singular assignment it to get it to someone else? Might it be easier for me to simply leave it in the car I parked outside?" The tutor inquired, looking between both boys for an answer. Neither one spoke waiting for him to continue with the lecture.
"Now suppose I had opened the bag, leaving it in the middle of the room, against the table leg, or perhaps on a chair?" Mr. Richards suggested. "By walking past and taking a simple glance, as long as you're paying attention to what your eyes are seeing, then you might be able to pick up more. For example, sticking out through this corner pocket here," he pointed to the bag. "You can see the light colour of white paper. Oh, but here, see it's slight shadow, upright and perfect. Alright so the paper might be a bit more stiff than others. One reason for paper being as such, is for use or creation of a business card. So, conclusions drawn, this here, sticking out, is a business card." The tutor touched a finger to the papers corner, showing to the boys. But he left it there for further demonstration, before continuing. "However you can't base a conclusion off of one theorized idea from simple assumptions. So you look towards the detail in the card." he pointed to the edges of the business card that made out the portion of a third of the paper sticking out. "It has a nice blue border. Simple, easy to see. And here, you can just make out a crest. The same, is you observe, as Oxford. At the school it is so distinguished, that practically anyone could recognize it upon sight. And one final thing. With the bag open, you can see indeed that it is a book which I carried in with me." he turned the bag so the open end faced the boys and they could see what he was talking about. "What subject? Psychology, easily learned by a quick reading of the spine. And finally, next to the book, a stack of papers. Since they are in line, it is hard to tell if they are all the same. But these first two give you all you need. The second page sticks out more than the first. In the top corner, you can read the name. It is different than that of the front page. So, different owners. Ah, but by looking further at the first page, you can see very distinct marks in red pen. Annotations, corrections. And at the very top, a score. Alright, so graded papers, tests perhaps. Now you have just about everything you need to know to base your conclusions." Mr. Richards took a short pause to enable the boys to take it all in. "So, thus far, by simply observing, and paying attention to detail, you know: 1) Im a professor or teacher of some kind, 2) I work at Oxford University, 3) I teach in the field of Psychology, and presumably have a degree in the same or similar field judging by the business card.
"It's things like this we take for granted nowadays. Observation, and paying attention to what you see so you can make accurate conclusions, is everything in life."
The older Holmes boy interrupted him.
"So, how exactly might we use this, day to day?"
"Ah, excellent inquiry." Mr. Richards beamed. He adjusted his glasses on his head with one hand before continuing, hands folded on the table in front of him. He had pushed his bag of to the side a bit more so it would be out of the way. "You see, just as your brother was that first day we met, observation triggers curiosity. If you plan to be academic, astute, ready to learn and then apply those learnings to your life, you must be curious. Without curiosity, the mind is a dull thing, with nothing to attach to, to attract it, so then it wont grow in one area or another." he turned to Sherlock again. "Now, tell me, what did you achieve in your observation on that first day?"
"That...you're a professor at Oxford university?"
"Yes, but only after asking me about it. All of these things I talked about, you can learn in a quick, concentrated moment. It takes time and practice to get to a level as such, but it is entirely possible." he addressed both boys now. "By willing yourself to learn such skills, you can learn more in a matter of seconds by simple observations, rather than coming up with multiple possibilities and having to guess or ask upon which one is correct. The point is, with observation, you can make quick, accurate conclusions without having to confirm your results."
Mycroft gave a slow nod, showing his final understanding. "So...it's just a skill useful...for intelligence?"
"Precisely, it will increase your knowledge, your intellect, and your overall brain function and capability." Mr. Richards told him.
"Well, what else could you use it for?" Sherlock asked quietly. He understood the concept partially, but it was still a bit fuzzy in some areas.
"Anything you want, I suppose. Whatever it appears to be useful for,"
Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows deep in thought. He wanted to learn how to do this at the level as Mr. Richards had mentioned. And he was determined to be able to do so. But he was still wary on what it could be useful for in the future.