Fandom High School

Class today was held in the danger shop rather than the proper classroom. Which tended to mean they would be working on an actual crime. Or that Sherlock had found something interesting to do with the programing there.

He made his own fun.

When they arrived, all that lay in the room was a chalkboard and a corpse. Written on that chalkboard was: SOLVE IT. With no 'Aaaaagh!' ending it to show the corpse died while writing that out. And, as we all know, that was what happened when someone was murdered while writing.

True story.

This was apparently Sherlock's idea of a midterm exam.

Class today was back in the proper classroom, much to Sherlock's annoyance. It was also joined by a gentleman who might have, in the vaguest possible manner, resembled their teacher.

Though, the fact that it was the start of this particular weekend and that Sherlock was ignoring his very presence were probably larger clues as to who he was.

"Today we'll be discussing how to deal with impediments to your investigations," Sherlock said sharply, fingers twitching as though for a weapon. Or violin. Considering it was him, they might be one in the same.

Mycroft - who had an umbrella slung casually over his shoulder - simply smiled at the class. "My brother is attempting to make a point to me," he said. "It's really quite childish. Good morning. My name is Mycroft Holmes. I serve the British government in a minor capacity, and I'll be assisting Sherlock in teaching you about some of the, ah, roadblocks."

Sherlock shot him a venomous look for that. "I heard there was a buffet at the hotel. Perhaps you should see how far this promise of 'all-you-can-eat' will be extended."

Ah, sibling rivalry.

"Do try and stay relevant to your own topic, Sherlock," Mycroft sighed, disappointed. "Now, I have to admit I am never one for..." He pulled a face. "...legwork. I cannot help you there, though I know my brother has more than enough experience in the art of... running around. However, there may be a point at which you'll encounter a great deal of bureaucracy."

"I would stay relevant if you would keep your nose out of my affairs," Sherlock snapped, crossing his arms over his chest in an entirely mature fashion. "The best manner to avoid bureaucracy is to bypass it entirely. It's up to the police or government to deal with paperwork, after all."

"My brother doesn't understand the value of political connections," Mycroft sniffed, "Though I hear he possesses some clout among the homeless network. Sometimes, you will simply have to charm your way, especially if you intend to get a look at any important documents..."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "We can't all control the government, Mycroft. It would be dull, anyway."

"Oh, Sherlock." Stop sighing, Mycroft. "Perhaps one day you will learn to nurture the other connections that you have to your benefit."

They had such a healthy relationship, you know. "Shouldn't you be starting a war in Korea now?"

"Oh, no. Though I must shortly return hope to help in the preparations for the Korean elections... but that is of no importance to your class. Please, can we stop this immature display?" Mycroft gave his umbrella a cheery, impossibly upperclass swing.

Behind the two of them, John facepalmed. In fact, John had been facepalming for quite some time at this point. "Yes, please do."

Sherlock scowled at the both of them in a surprisingly polite manner that only came from upperclass breeding. "I want you all to find a partner. One will be trying to restrict your investigation and the other will be circumventing them. Is that understood? Good."

Now he was going to sulk like a teenage girl.

[[Preplayed with the lovely justhisblogger]]

Class was once again held in the danger shop today, but it was a different scene. Gone was the woman in pink and the worn down room from last week.

Instead, there was an unmoving man sitting at the table. It was as if the scene was paused for closer examination.

"Last week you looked at the crime, today you look at the criminal behind it," Sherlock said, taking a seat across from the frozen man.

Ah, yes. Because John really needed to relive this one. (Part of him did. It had been exhilarating. Still...) He darted a quick smile at the audience from where he was still standing, upright. "And thank you for introducing me, Sherlock."

Sherlock sighed, settling back in his seat again. "My colleague, John Watson, class. I assume many of you have already found his blog."

"Yes." John flashed what he hoped was a second, warmer smile at everyone watching; it came off slightly awkward. Then he turned his attention back to Sherlock. "So the cabbie."

The class better enjoy it. John was the friendly, personable one of the pair. "Yes, the cab driver. He used his profession to hunt lure victims into his cab in order to take them to a private location in order to force them to murder themselves. Rather ingenious, I must admit."

"And terrifying for the victims," John filled in, because he knew Sherlock wouldn't. He was a little crap at being the 'kind, personable one', but he was as close as they were going to get around Sherlock. Alas. "The same murderer almost got to Sherlock," he said, glancing at the man. "He put forward two pills, one deadly, one not. The victim had to choose which is which."

Sherlock smiled in a way that was hardly kind or personable. "I played his game and now it's your turn. Discuss which pill you would take and why."

John didn't add anything to that, though any would-be deducers might be able to glean something out of the way he was rubbing his temple.

Or not. Still, it seemed hardly sporting to offer them 'or wait until your friend shoots the killer' as an option.

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?"