fandomhigh | The Science of Deduction, Friday

When all the students had finished filing into class, they might notice a man sitting at the teacher's desk, busy on his mobile phone. Presumably, their esteemed teacher. Esteemed.

Yes.

"This is the Science of Deduction," he said, not looking up from whatever he was working on. For all they knew, it was a rousing game of Tetris. "If you're uncertain as to whether or not you belong here or if you are only in this class to make your parents leave you alone, the answer is no. The door is to your right. I'm sure we'd all appreciate you leave before you waste our time. I know I will."

There was a pause as he waited for anyone to take that offer. It was the kind thing to do, right?

"Let's begin with me saying that I'd rather not be teaching you," Sherlock said, closing the phone and placing it on the desk. Brutal honesty was always the best when dealing with teenagers. Really. "I have it on good authority that I'm not good at dealing with children or idiots. Both of which are in the room at the moment. Outside the classroom as well, but we're not focusing on that at the moment."

He shrugged because what could you do?

"My name is Sherlock Holmes and yes, I am already aware that I share a name and an alarming number of characteristics with a fellow from Victorian England. Any comments about it and you will be assisting me with my experiments. Always pleased to have live subjects for a change."

Oh, if only that was a lie.

"So, let's begin, shall we?"

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"I wasn't going to bring it up first, not wanting to be an experimental subject. There are marked similarities," Scully said evenly, mostly unfazed at the comment. Well, she was here for a reason. And he hadn't said anything too unnerving about her yet. The person he *really* reminded her of was Mulder. "Physically the same. Attitude, very much the same. If it turns out you're a consulting detective with Scotland Yard-- which you certainly could be-- I'm going to start wondering about the weirdness of the Island again." She cocked her head. "You don't have any obsessive-compulsive habits, do you?" Such as eating sunflower seeds and insomnia, and looking for UFOs?

Edited 2010-09-03 06:51 (UTC)

"It's called the Met now," Sherlock corrected with a roll of his eyes. "So that would place you behind on the times, or simply ignorant for someone who acts as though she is a police officer."

A beat.

"Though, if you are a police officer, I should expect this sort of stupidity. I believe that's a hiring requirement."

Scully paused, and said, "1999." She folded her arms again, watching him. He hadn't answered her questions, really. And it was better he didn't figure out what she'd been. Ow. It still stung, even though she was determined not to show it more than she had to. She would bet money he mainlined caffeine like a fiend, though.

"Is that it, then?" Sherlock asked. "You're not going to respond? The marks on your hands say you're at least acquainted with proper gun use."

A blink, and Scully said, even more warily, "Yes. I am acquainted with guns." Never give away too much in an interrogation. How did this get to be one, again?

"Trained." Interesting.

Just for a second there, a flash of frustration escaped her as Scully imagined where to start the Y-incision. Then she shut it down again, jaw working a moment then coming to rest. 'Internship' would not satisfy this professor any more than it had satisfied Rosalind. So she remained silent, watching him.

Well, at least he was definitely qualified to teach the course.

Sherlock just smiled and turned away. "Next!"

The Science of Deduction, Friday - 9/3

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