"He cheated! I swear he did!"

Headmaster David Mitchell sighed and rubbed his nose. "What do you mean, Ms. Gilder?"

The severe looking schoolmarm anxiously checked to make sure all her silver hair was chokingly contained in her bun. "He got 100% on this test!" She produced the test in question.

"That is not unusual for a Holmes."

"Except he has no idea what the answer is!"

Headmaster Mitchell leaned forward, more interested. "What do you mean?"

Ms. Gilder shoved the test in front of him. "Here are his answers." She walked to the door and ushered in the year seven boy.

He looked almost too skinny. There was also a fading bruise on his left cheekbone. Maybe the test score wasn't the problem. Mitchell hated having to call parents and ask why their child was showing up to school with bruises. However, whatever it took to take care of his kiddos.

"Take a seat, Sherlock," he gestured to the chair in front of his dark mahogany desk.

The boy sat, his disdain for authority displayed clearly on his face. "I don't see why I am here."

"Because you cheated!" Ms. Gilder howled from the doorway.

"Enough!" The headmaster was in charge of the situation and his tone immediately commanded silence from the teacher. "Please shut the door on your way out!"

Once the door clicked shut, Mitchell leaned back and folded his hands calmly. Sherlock's eyes seemed to be looking right through him but Mitchell had nothing to hide. He waited for Sherlock to make eye contact with him again.

"You are here so we can discuss your test scores." The older man spoke gently, worried the boy would spook like a beaten dog. He mentally winced at the comparison. Not at all appropriate, considering what he suspected.

"That seems like a misuse of your time." Sherlock leaned forward. His ice blue eyes tried so hard to convey boredom but there was a fierce intensity behind them. "For example, you could've shut down Tyson Johnson's drug dealing weeks ago. He's been stealing his mum's oxycotin and selling it. Due to your lack of involvement, I had to take matters into my own hands." Whether it was conscious or not, the boy's fingers brushed his bruise.

"We can discuss that after the matter at hand." Mitchell's voice was still calm, but he felt panic at Sherlock's blunt disclosure. He could not have drug dealing present at one of the best schools in Britain. He picked up the test and began to read aloud. "When did King George III take the throne and what was his greatest accomplishment?"

"Dunno."

"When did the Romans invade Britain?"

"No clue."

Mitchell continued, hoping Sherlock would get something right. Finally, after ten to fifteen negative answers, he sighed and put the test down. "Alright. If you don't know the answers, how did you get full credit?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, making the man nearly forty years his senior feel slightly stupid and clueless. "Look. Its multiple choice. Every answer that is abnormally longer than the others is the right answer. Ms. Gilder can't resist going into too much detail with her correct answer."

The headmaster examined the test and was astonished to find that he was correct. "So, you didn't know the material, you just figured out her pattern in her tests?"

"Very good, Headmaster," Sherlock mocked. "Now, if you will excuse me, I'm late for orchestra." The lanky boy pushed back the chair and left the room with a grace uncommon for his age.

Headmaster Mitchell sighed. Technically the boy had done nothing wrong but his attitude was going to get him in trouble and soon.

"Ms. Gilder! Please come in, we need to discuss your tests."