Hi everyone!

This fic is not set in a particular time, although I imagine it to be before mobile phones or computers became available. It starts slowly but gets better and will include violence, abuse, hurt/comfort and romance. It will also explore Sherlock's sexuality.

The story is rated M from chapter 7 onwards.

This first chapter might seem a bit long, but was necessary as an introduction.

I hope you like it. This is my first fanfic so reviews are VERY welcome!

Disclaimer: Based on BCC's Sherlock. Not mine.

Chapter 1: St. Francis Comprehensive School

It was a warm September morning, a pleasant breeze drifting through the streets of north London. The sweet smell in the air came from fresh bread in the nearby bakery, coffee beans and fried bacon from the diner, the dust from the streets and late summer bloom.

"How'd you sleep?" John asked, looking at Sherlock who was walking next to him. His friend was looking grim. He was paler than normal and clearly wasn't eating enough. However, he appeared better than a couple of weeks ago, when Lestrade had banned him from the Yard. He'd done so after Sherlock solved a case at the expense of 3 of his officers. Two of them had been hospitalised, one of them had been sent straight to Molly Hooper.

Sherlock scowled at John but straightened his suit clad shoulders. "I am not nervous to be in a room with a couple of empty headed children, John. I'm sure they will annoy me mostly, but at least it will be a distraction," he huffed.

Sherlock desperately needed this distraction; Mrs Hudson had threatened to end the contract on the flat if he didn't stop making such an awful racket at night. Not to mention the dangerous toxic gasses that regularly invaded her flat.

John raised an eyebrow. "Of course you're not nervous. I was thinking about everything that has happened in the last month. You've had to deal with a lot and -I know we've talked about this- I want to make sure you're healthy. You've been abusing that violin every night in the past week."

Sherlock's head snapped in his direction. "Have you been discussing my mental state with Mrs. Hudson?!" He said, raising his voice.

"Of course I have. Got to know you're not up to anything stupid", John said with a slight smile.

"I am not capable of stupid," he snapped.

"If that were true, you would still be solving cases for Lestrade right now, wouldn't you?" John retorted.

Sherlock looked angrily at the trees lining the pavement but said nothing.

It had been extremely stupid. It had been the stupidest thing he had done in a long time. Now he was paying the price with a drastic and, in his opinion, rather degrading career switch. He told himself it was stricktly tempotary. Lestrade would come round.

Finally, the gates of St Francis came into view. It was a small secondary school where John had been appointed headmaster almost two years ago. Across the schoolyard lined with old trees, heavy with leaves, stood a rather old and pretty building, but the image was disturbed by the hoards of children running around and making excited noises.

John gave a satisfied sigh. "Well, anyway, as of today you will be in charge of teenagers, so try to behave as much like an adult as you can. Stick to the reading materials provided, and try not to humiliate them too much. Let me know how it goes."

With an encouraging pat on his shoulder, John set off towards the old brick building. He was completely at ease in his surroundings, greeting some parents and pupils on his way.

Sherlock didn't know what to expect exactly. His contact with teenagers had been quite minimal during the last fifteen years of his life. He only spoke to the streetwise ones in his homeless network when he needed them to look out for someone, or to the traumatised ones when he needed information on a crime scene. The ones running around in this schoolyard were excruciatingly loud, and he couldn't imagine being in a confined space with them for more than 5 minutes. However, Lestrade had not responded to his messages for over a month, and this seemed like a better alternative to being bored out of his mind at home.

Olivia raced through the gates and brought her bicycle to a halt just in front of the bike stalls. While locking it, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Liv!" Rose called out to her while she came running. The girls hugged and grinned at each other. Olivia felt a feeling of happiness spread in her stomach as she listened to her friend's voice chattering away.

She took in her surroundings. It had been way too long since she had been here. The two months of summer holiday had gone by slowly for her. Now she was finally back for her third year and it felt like a comforting warm blanket was being wrapped around her.

After chatting about her holidays, Rose came with some interesting news.

"Did you know we have a new science teacher? McMullen had a heart attack in his backyard last month and drowned in his grandchildren's kiddie pool!" Rose exclaimed excitedly, her dark curls bouncing.

"Is that true?" Olivia asked, more disturbed by her friend's curiosity for these morbid rumours than the death of her former teacher. McMullen had been the most boring man she had ever met. He mostly recited the textbook and sometimes he spoke so slow that he'd forget how his sentence had started. His face was blank and his voice was soft. It often took all her willpower to stay awake in his classes, and she knew her classmates had similar problems. Lucy had failed his class last year, but luckily had better marks in other classes to make up for it.

"Lucy told me. She got it from Anthony… But anyway, they say this new guy is like 30 years younger than McMullen, so by definition he cannot be as boring", she said matter-of-factly, and Olivia smiled.

She loved seeing her best friend again. She and Rose had been inseparable from the first day they set foot on the grounds of St Francis. Olivia had been a lot shyer then and Rose's confidence made her come out of her shell. Rose had a good sense of humour and was quite intelligent, even though teachers often didn't agree with her.

They went inside the old building and walked towards the science classroom, a bright room with big windows and wooden pannelling, which was already halfway filled with pupils. Their new teacher didn't look up when they entered. The man sat behind the desk at the front of the room, skimming their textbook, looking bored. He did indeed look much younger than most teachers.

They occupated their usual seats at the back of the class. Rose preferred to be sitting at the back so that if the lesson got too boring she could easily focus her attention on other things without getting caught.

Olivia straightened her brown plaited skirt as she sat down. It had taken her ages to iron it last night and she didn't want to undo her work so quickly. She greeted Anthony and Lucy sitting in front of her, who both looked tanned and slightly less excited to be back at school. Olivia felt a giddiness spread in her stomach, so happy was she to be surrounded by people again.

Her summer had been lonely. Her dad had spent the entirety of it inside the house, watching telly, lying in bed, staring out in front of him. He said he was too tired to take her anywhere and she was not allowed to venture out by herself, which made for an extremely dull summer. A couple of times she had convinced him to let her go to a museum. Both times he had sat in a café nearby, waiting for her to come out.

At exactly 08.30, the man at the front of the class stood up and gazed at the 23 pupils. Olivia noticed he was somewhere in his mid thirties, tall, dark curly hair, handsome, although not in a conventional way. He wore a black tailored suit with an off-white shirt. He looked posh but wore no tie as was customary for teachers. Slowly, the chattering in the class died down and when he had most of their attention he started speaking.

"Good morning... young people. I am Mr Holmes and will be attempting to teach you some basic physics and chemistry this year." As he turned to write his name on the blackboard, he went on "Mr McMullen will not be coming back to his school due to an unfortunate event involving heart failure and some ankle-deep water..."

"Told you!" Rose elbowed Olivia in the ribs, grinning. Olivia winced and then smiled. She couldn't help but think that what Mr Holmes had just told them was probably against protocol.

Mr Holmes swiftly turned back to the class and focused his piercing eyes at Rose, who instantly straightened in her seat. Then he returned his attention to the entire class.

"Some rules before we start. Don't speak when I'm speaking. You may address me as Mr Holmes or sir. Raise your hand if you have a question. Try to keep the number of stupid questions to a minimum. I don't enjoy wasting time on explaining the self-explanatory. If you're late, don't bore me with excuses. I will let you in or I won't, depending on my mood."

Rose and Olivia exchanged glances. This man clearly knew how to keep control of his class. His deep voice had a natural authority to it that made her want to pay attention.

"I will now take attendance." Mr Holmes sat down. His back was straight as a candle as he picked up their list of names.

"Mr Andrews?" His blue eyes flickered through the room.

"Present" a hand shot up somewhere in the middle of the class.

"Mr Ashworth?"

"Here!"

"Don't shout at me." He snapped, "I might be twenty years older than you, but I can hear every whisper in this room." At this point some of the pupils started shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

Sherlock tried not to be too direct (i.e. rude) during the lesson. He also tried to turn off the deducing part of his brain, preferring not to know what these children were up to outside of his class. Everything went to his satisfaction: attentive faces directed at him and no questions at all (although that might have been because they were too terrified to raise their hands).

He got distracted when a pupil came in about 20 minutes into the lesson. The boy, Billy Mitchell, was out of breath and looked at his teacher defensively, opening his mouth to give him an excuse for being late. But Sherlock just glanced at him with an annoyed look on his face.

"Mr Mitchell, take a seat and try not to be late again. I will not let you in next time," he spat.

As he turned back to the blackboard in order to continue explaining a formula, he noticed a slight limp as the boy walked to an empty seat. Immediately his mind came up with 16 possibly incriminating explanations for that physical anomaly. But he stopped himself, rubbed his temple for a moment with the side of his hand and began where he left off. Pupils continued scribbling nervously to keep up.

The only one who dared to ask a question was Joan Davies, a girl sitting in the front row. The rest of the class sighed as she raised her hand, clearly used to her eagerness. She spoke with the superior arrogance Sherlock used himself so often during cases. His immediate reaction was to shoot her confidence.

"Stupid question. I'd be inclined to let you reread the chapter in the textbook." Then he saw how her arrogant façade dropped instantly and realised this probably wasn't the most professional way to deal with confident pupils.

"However, from the blank faces of your classmates I infer that more people are struggling", he said, and proceeded to explain the matter in the most simplified way he could think of.

During his explanation, he noticed that quite a few of their faces suddenly lit up, eyes big, and they started to scribble down whatever had been illuminated in their head. Sherlock knew that they had suddenly grasped the knowledge and experienced a strange feeling of satisfaction.

He gave the class some exercises to do, sat back in his chair and picked up a newspaper. He was happy to shut out their stares for a while and went through the crime reports of the day, although his ears remained alert to whatever went on in the room.

Billy, who had sat down next to Eric, was not in the mood to concentrate. He was still a bit shocked by Mr Holmes' reaction. Any other teacher would have asked for a note from his parents for being that late or have sent him to detention immediately. Mr Holmes did not seem to care about his reason or whether he could prove it. Now his new teacher had completely closed himself off from the class and was engrossed in a newspaper, ignoring the few hands that were hesitantly raised for questions.

Eric was watching their new teacher with fascination. Billy could practically see him plot how he could sabotage their new professor, who seemed way too confident for Eric's taste.

Suddenly, Mr Holmes snorted.

"Idiots", he said and licked his finger to turn the page.

"This guy is a total nutcase", Eric whispered. "Completely mental, I tell you."

"I have no more mental issues than your gambling father, Mr Walker, so don't worry", came a rumbling voice from behind the newspaper.

Everybody looked up. Eric's face turned red as he stared angrily ahead, but said nothing. The tension in the room eased again as people concentrated on their work.

After a few minutes, Olivia felt a nudge from Rose. The note that was passed in front of her already had several people's handwriting on it. Anthony seemed to have started the conversation:

[A] HOW did he know that?!

[R] Knows Eric's family?

[A] Unlikely. It's mean to call him out in public like that though… Maybe it's not even true!

[L] If it's not true Eric would definitely have said so. Anyway, I knew.

[R] Lucy, you told me, Olivia, Peter and a bunch of other people the moment you heard about Eric's dad! Are you sure you weren't the one who told Holmes? [Smiley face]

[L] Ha-Ha no! I've not had a friendly gossip chat with Holmes! I sure wouldn't mind though…. [wink]

[R] Oh God. Lu has found a new victim…

Olivia couldn't supress a smile while she read her friends' discussion. She was biting on the end of her pen to think what she'd write, when a sudden presence startled her. When she looked up, Mr Holmes was towering over her with a predatory look in his eyes. He snatched the note from her desk, and silently read the paper.

Olivia felt the blood rise to her cheeks and had no idea what to say. She felt the others nervously alternating their glances between her and Mr Holmes, whose eyebrows had risen a little while he was reading. When he finished, he rested his eyes on Olivia again.

"Miss Edwards, is it? I would advise you not to partake in this discussion and continue with your work."

She gave a quick nod.

"How do you know it's not her handwriting?" Rose blurted out.

"Because Miss Edwards' handwriting is right in front of me in her notes", he snapped. Then he turned his attention to the rest of them.

"For your information, I don't care whether you can or cannot suppress the urge to communicate during my class, but if you can't, please make sure the discussion is at least intellectually challenging. I'm sure you can do better than this."

He leisurely walked back to the front of the classroom, on his way dropping the note on Anthony's desk. Anthony gave a puzzled look. Surely none of his handwriting had been visible on his desk. How had he known he had started writing the note? This only added to the mystery that was forming around Mr Holmes, and of course it asked for more notepaper discussions.

Lucy finally relaxed when her teacher resumed his place behind his desk. She truly hoped that Holmes had not identified her handwriting as well. They didn't dare speak or write to each other again during that class.

Eventually, Sherlock started picking pupils to read out their answers. Every wrong answer received a sneer or a ridiculing comment, but he was quite pleasantly surprised that at the majority of them were correct.

Still, when the bell sounded to mark the end of class, everyone was a bit relieved.

"Read whatever is on the schedule for Thursday. I will bring a practical example then. This stuff is already boring me," the pupils heard their teacher mumble as they left the classroom.

Sherlock waited to leave the room as he felt the vibrations of corridors being stamped by hundreds of young people.

At lunchtime John introduced Sherlock to the rest of the staff in the teacher's room. His reputation had preceded him.

Sally Donovan, who taught English, gave him a disapproving look. Sherlock could see that she thought he was dangerous and didn't understand why John, as head of school, would let him be around any children at all. Anderson, Maths, gave him a short handshake and a fake smile.

He knew that John had had to defend the decision to have him replace McMullen. Although it had been kind of John to stand up for him, Sherlock didn't care at all what they thought and hoped that any teamwork could be kept to a minimum.

Mary, John's wife who worked as a biology teacher and was the school nurse, was the only other staff member openly approving John's decision. She gave Sherlock a warm smile before she dug into her sandwich.

"How are you getting on with the kids?" she asked

"I was not aware that I needed to get on with them. I explain things and they listen. Aside from that they do not interest me", Sherlock said as he poured himself some coffee.

"Not up to you your usual standard of company then?"

"How could they be, with people like that clogging their minds with nonsense?!" his head jerked in the direction of Anderson and Donovan. Mary chuckled.

"Oh Sherlock, they are nice kids. Well, most of them anyway. You should get to know them a little. Might make things less boring for you actually."

"The day I need children to keep myself from getting bored, my life will not be worth living," he said defensively.

Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it! I will update regularly. Please follow/favourite and review! I will reply.