"We had high hopes for you, Mr. Holmes," the man was saying. He had not introduced himself to me and I did not have him for a class. I glanced about the room casually. "Young sir! This is quite serious!"
"Yes, sir, it is," I agreed. "Though, Professor Andrews, I do believe you have the wrong lad."
"Your condescending tone is not appreciated here, young man, and neither are the fancy tricks that your brother taught you."
I bristled at this. I had, it seemed, since setting foot into this school, been compared to Mycroft. He was my elder brother by seven years and I will always admit that he is my superior in intellect, but as a thirteen year old lad, I was irritated, to put it kindly, that Sherlock Holmes was only the boy that was to become Mycroft Holmes. "He didn't teach me them all, and it's not trick."
"I don't care what it is!" Andrews snapped. "I want to know why you have been cheating."
I stood from my seat so that he might not loom over me quite as much. "Sir, have you taken a glance at those answers and when, perhaps, the tests were? I'm sure you'd find them dating farther back than I had entered this school."
He had not, I observed by the reddening of his face, taken the care to look at the papers. "Young sir-"
"Of course, no disrespect meant, sir."
He bristled again, his face only becoming redder, as he pulled the papers from the drawer and jerked them out, glancing over them and pulling a book from another drawer. "Then who… And why were you in there? Why was Wallace in there?"
I smiled. "My first day here, Sam Wallace approached me and, upon hearing that I was Mycroft's younger brother, asked for my help in searching out the answer to a small school mystery: that of the haunted room." I proceeded to tell him how we had gone to the room, about the crowd that had gathered, and my first meeting with Josiah Adams later that evening. I assured him that my memory of Mycroft's old tales were quite solid, even if I had been young when he told them. I mentioned the old maid and some other students I had consulted.
"And I should believe Wallace wasn't in on the cheating why?" the angry professor asked.
"If you would take a look at Mr. Wallace's scoring records, I might deduce from his personality that while they are not horrid, they are far from what he might get from cheating. Josiah Adams is your lad, sir, if you wish to check in on him and prove me correct. He learned of the room from his elder brother, Joseph, who was expelled for using the very same room for cheating."
"Why wouldn't the teachers have known that the room could be used for that?"
"Simple. Professor Adams did not want his son to leave with a mark of expulsion lingering after him in the other student's or the teachers' minds. Therefore he concocted an outrageous story for the students to believe about a ghost haunting that room. That would keep the people out of it.
"If you were to look back in your books where you record the grades of the students, I might wager that Mr. Josiah Adams' grades were falling off for a bit, and then picked up tremendously. I'm sure you won't see cheat-notes from before that time period."
Andrews looked at me, eyeing me carefully. "Stay here. If Sam Wallace's story matches yours, I might be more wont to believe this outrageous accusation."
He returned some time later, shaking his head. "You were right, young man. I'm not entirely sure how, but you patched that together nicely. How old are you?"
"Thirteen."
Andrews chuckled. "Do you know what you might do with this talent of yours, son?"
I stared at him a moment. "Do with it, sir?"
"Do with it, lad! Use it for something. Surely, you will."
"For what?" I asked, genuinely confused. What on earth could I use it for? Surely there were others that could do the same.
"Lad, your gift is rare. I thought I had seen it all when your brother came through here, but apparently not. You'll outdo him someday, boy, unless he gains some sort of energy, which I doubt. What about a detective, Mr. Holmes? That might be a worthy goal for one such as you."
I frowned. "For Scotland Yard?" "What? Doesn't that sound nice?"
"Heavens no," I groaned. If there was one thing I had seen in Scotland Yard in reading the papers and such, it was that they rarely did as they should. The last thing I wanted was to be shoved aside and my ideas drowned in their old-fashion ways. "But perhaps, I could be a detective on my own…"
He chuckled at me. "Perhaps. Now get to your room. Mr. Wallace is quite flustered over this whole matter."
"Is he? Poor chap…" That said, I took my leave and down the hallway. I saw Adams as I was walking - I must admit, my chin held just a bit higher than usual - and he glared something awful at me. I smiled back.
------
"Holmes! Telegraph for you!" Wallace hollered.
I peered up from my studies. "Is there?"
"Yes." He handed me the piece of paper and I glanced at it.
Sherlock-
Congratulations on your first case.
- Mycroft
"What is it, Holmes?" Wallace asked, peeking over my shoulder.
I sighed and put the telegraph down. I hadn't told him. "He's always one step ahead…" I groaned and fell back against my pillow.
A/N: That's it for this case. It was interesting, I must admit. I've got one more thing for a young Holmes fic, but we'll see if I end up getting around to it...
BlackMoon13: Ah lovely! Another Mary Russell fan!I'm pleased to see that! No, I haven't found any other sites, but it could be b/c I'm lazy and don't look to often. The Hive is the only one I've found, but it is a nice one. I do have one H/R fic up as it is, and am thinking about doing another, perhaps a longer peice than my one shot that I have posted. We shall see what time and imagination permits. ::goes back to watching her Holmes movies and reading "The Moor"::