Sherlock's head rested on top of his fingertips, his finger nails digging into the skin underneath his chin. His eyes were closed, letting everything around his disappear into a black abyss. Sherlock breathed softly, the smell of wood filling his nostrils. Not long now. He thought.

The school bell suddenly rang, piercing Sherlock's ears and intruding his relaxed profile. Sherlock stood from the desk and grabbed his bag from the floor next to him. The sound of teenagers beginning conversations filled the room, chairs scraping along the cheap flooring as they stood and headed out for their lunch break. Sherlock grunted but moved to join them all the same.

"Mr Holmes." The teacher called, causing Sherlock to glance up at him. The teacher nodded down at the table where Sherlock had been sat for the last hour. "Sit." He instructed. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. The teacher walked around to the front of his desk and leaned onto it, folding his arms. He sighed before continuing. "Do I need to phone your parents again?"

Sherlock frowned. "I don't think so, Mr Jensen."

"Then I suggest that you start paying attention." Sherlock's brow furrowed deeper. Mr Jensen chucked. "What? You didn't think I'd notice? I'm many things Sherlock, but I'm not stupid."

"Yes you are." Sherlock said boldly. "Oh don't look at me like that, practically everyone is. It's nothing personal." He added after noticing the offended look on his teacher's face.

The teacher breathed deeply. "My point is, you come into my classroom, what? Three, four times a week, and you just sit there. You don't answer any questions, you don't join in on group discussions. Even when I put you all into groups, or pairs even, to do a project, you just sit there." Mr Jensen pointed to where Sherlock was sitting. "You're always in the same position, too. Doing that hands under your chin thing. I just.." He sighed. "Is something wrong? Is it something at home or?" Sherlock didn't respond, and Mr Jensen realised he wouldn't get an answer for that. "Sherlock, you've got so much potential, but if you're not willing to learn-"

"I am willing to learn." Sherlock interrupted.

"But you don't do anything!"

"I listen." Sherlock spoke calmly. The two stared at each other, almost daring the other to back down. Mr Jensen nodded before bowing his head in defeat.

"Alright." The elder stood up straight and headed for the door. He opened it and gestured with his hand for Sherlock to leave. The conversation was over.

Sherlock stood and moved towards Mr Jensen. "I appreciate your concern sir, but I assure you, I really don't need it." Sherlock spoke before disappearing into the crowd of rushing teenagers.


Sherlock got home from school that day, and went straight to his room. He threw his bag across the room and picked up his violin. He studied the instrument, letting his fingertips glide over the curves of the body. His hand moved to the tuning pegs, he twisted them and plucked at the strings to tune the violin. Sherlock grinned when he hit the correct note, before moving to play. He grabbed the bow and positioned his fingers carefully, he let the hairs drag across the instrument's strings, gaining a positive sound in return. Sherlock let his mind wander as he played. He suddenly remembered the events of the morning, and he began to question what happened. Is Mycroft really moving out? He frowned at the thought. As much as he hated his older brother at times, it would be strange to not have him around.

Sherlock's thoughts were disrupted by a knock on his bedroom door. Sherlock jumped and settled his violin down. "Come in", he called out.

The door opened and Sherlock's mother poked her head around. "Hello, darling. How was school?" She asked as she walked into the room.

"It was fine, I guess." Sherlock shrugged. "Boring, but fine." Sherlock noticed how his mother closed the door behind her.

"And how are you feeling?" Mrs Holmes slowly sat down on the bed.

"I'm fine, mother." Sherlock joined her on the bed. "I promise." He assured her. Sherlock could tell that his mother was worried about him.

"That's good to hear." She smiled at her son.

There was a small silence before Sherlock spoke. "Does Mycroft really have to move out?"

"I'm afraid so, Sherlock. But don't worry, your father and I will keep an eye on him."

Sherlock nodded in response. "When does father finish work today?"

"I think he mentioned staying behind for a couple of hours, so I'm guessing ten. But knowing your father, he'll be home by nine." Mrs Holmes smiled at her son. "Right then," She began as she stood from the bed. "I best get dinner sorted. Anything in particular you fancy?" She turned to Sherlock.

"Not really, surprise me." Sherlock also stood, but headed towards his desk to use his laptop.

"Sounds good to me." Mrs Holmes smiled before heading back downstairs.

Sherlock smiled before turning his laptop on. It was always nice to have those conversations with his mother. They were only small, but it was almost like they were checking up on each other. The two were so much closer before Euros died, but after it happened, Sherlock and his mother drifted apart. Sherlock spent a lot more time with his father these days. But those small conversations made Sherlock feel like everything will be okay. Maybe not today, but one day.