A Study in the Past

Chapter 1

Sherlock was bored. That's not something new. Why wouldn't he be bored? His aristocratic parents had shipped him and Mycroft off to another boarding school. Sherlock believes his parents move him from different boarding schools to avoid having him at home. He doesn't know why they don't want Mycroft at home. Mycroft is their favourite. If he wasn't their favourite, they wouldn't be constantly telling Sherlock "be more like Mycroft!". Maybe they made Mycroft go to boarding schools with Sherlock to keep the younger Holmes out of trouble. He never did a good job at keeping Sherlock from trouble-

"Are you listening Sherlock?" Mycroft's annoyance voice rang out in Sherlock's ears as he was woken from his reverie.

"No" Sherlock stated truthfully. Mycroft sighed and gave Sherlock a scolding glare.

"I was saying, you should at least try to make a friend this year Sherlock. Yes, everyone is an incompetent idiot but that doesn't mean they aren't good people" Mycroft explained.

"It would lift mummy's mood" Mycroft added.

"Fine" Sherlock said through gritted teeth. His older brother smiled smugly and looked out the train window at the hills rolling passed them. Why his parents had picked a boarding school in the middle of nowhere in Scotland, he didn't know.

As they sat in their cabin and waited to arrive in town, Sherlock thought about what Mycroft had said. Idiots are always good people. They throw themselves in front of danger for their loved ones. That's why they're idiots. It would be nice to have someone to talk to... No, why would anyone want to talk to Sherlock? At any boarding school he's ever been to, the boys thought he was a freak, the girls tried to get to know him because he looked worth their attention. Then they too thought he was a freak. In Sherlock's magnificent mind, they were all idiots if they thought a genius like him was a freak. Just because he was smarter on many levels did not make him a freak. But that was Sherlock's opinion. The victim's opinion never counts.

Sherlock must have been thinking about this topic for a while because when he focused on his surroundings again, Mycroft was handing him his suitcase. Time flied quickly when Sherlock was in his Mind Palace. It was a memory technique, helping him find the dusty files that were his memories in order to remember everything he's ever read, heard, seen, smelt of tasted. And it worked.

"Come on Sherlock. Orientation is at 6 and you don't want to be late" Mycroft said, ushering his younger brother out of the train, followed by the other hundreds of students going to Newcastle.

"Why do we have to go to orientation?" Sherlock asked, with a whining tone.

"Because, you don't have to get expelled before the semester starts, do you?" Mycroft asked smugly. Sherlock didn't reply. He couldn't care less because he knew more than the smartest teacher at that dreaded school.

"Just, keep the deductions to a minimum" Mycroft added as they hoped off the train, suitcases in hand and began walked through the small, Victorian town. Sherlock observed all the students passing by him. He analyzed some who were held back, some who did drugs, some shagging their friends, some who smoked. He really was surrounded by idiots who thought it impressive to be doing anatomically destructive things. Maybe Sherlock could dissect their bodies when they die in a few years?

"Didn't I tell you to keep the deductions to a minimum?" Mycroft asked as they neared the giant, 16th century fortress that was Newcastle Boarding School.

"I can't help it" Sherlock admitted. It wasn't entirely the truth. He could just ignore everyone to not deduce their life stories but that was quite tedious to do so.

"Just don't start blurting out life stories. You know how that upset mummy" Mycroft said.

"I upset her? It was not me who upset her, Mycroft!" Sherlock protested. Mycroft pressed his lips together into a frown line as they walked up the green hills of the school. There were boys and girls of different ages, talking, walking, kissing everywhere around the place. Some were already in the grey, navy blue and scarlet uniforms of the school. Others were in their street clothes. Mycroft led Sherlock to the boys' dormitory, where they met the caretaker, Mrs. Hudson. She was a kind old woman, the kind that bakes cookies and reminds you of your grandmother. Mrs. Hudson gave Sherlock his dorm key and told him that his roommate had already moved in. Then she gave Mycroft his own key and he walked off to the other dormitory, down the hall, without a sorry glance for his younger brother.