Just The Name

Chapter 10

Professor Singers class was all wrong. Something had happened to him. In his personal life, Sherlock assumed.

Or maybe Sherlock had failed. Dean And Mycroft, too.

Then Sam came in, and Sherlock couldn't figure out what was going on.

Professor Singer had been casting sad looks at the three students all class.

When John, Greg and Mary caught on, they added in.

Then Sam came in.

"Glad you're here, boy. Find a seat, I'll be talkin' to you and your friends at the end of class. That reminds me, Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, Dean Winchester, stay seated when the bell rings, you hear?"

The lack of swearing made Sherlock know something was very, very wrong.

Everyone could tell now.

Glances were being thrown towards the students requested to stay.

Three of these students pretended not to notice them.

Dean flipped them off when Professor Singer turned his back to the class.

***

Dean waited to hear the homework assignment of the day - Bobby never missed an opportunity to torture them.

Which is why it was such a shock when he said, "No homework today, hand in your previous assignments before you leave, Holmes, Winchesters, stay put I need to talk to you."

Professor Singer quickly called over a girl named Jo.

The boys made their way up, just in time to hear, "So you get your damn act together, you idjit, or I swear, your momma won't need to hear one more complaint from me. But she'll be hearing a ton more from you."

Dean wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but it sounded like an expulsion threat.

"Yes, sir." Jo said, sarcastically. She turned around, winked at the boys, and walked off, saying, "He's all yours!"

"Have a seat." Bobby said, almost kindly.

The group of boys sat down, awkward and tense.

The door opened and Mrs. Hudson walked in, carrying a tea pot in one hand and six cups in the other.

"Hello, Bobby. Hello, boys." She said, reaching the front.

She poured everyone tea, and distributed.

"I don't know how to say this, so I'm just gonna say it." Bobby sighed. "Mary - the mom of Sam and Dean - She's dead." Sighed Bobby.

Sam looked, almost, as if he couldn't care. Nothing about him changed, except he started crying, almost instantly, and very silently.

Dean's eyes widened and his face paled, but tears didn't arrise.

"And... your dad's been arrested for her murder."

At this Dean looked up so no one could see him cry, and Sam made a sound like a dying cat.

There was silence, mind you except for Sam and Dean sniffing and the tense shuffles of Mrs. Hudson.

"Same goes for the Holmes, 'Sept it's the other way around. Mom arrested. Dad..." Bobby cleared his throat, aggressively.

Sherlock didn't move, one bit. He heard a tea cup shattering, though it was very distant. The room moved, but he stayed seated.

Somewhere, a few hallways away, someone called out to him. It was only when he was suddenly surrounded by cars and fresh air that he totally processed the distant sounds and funny movements earlier. He dropped his tea cup and began racing out of the class, Mycroft called out to him, he didn't stop, he raced outside. Then he slumped to the ground and sobbed.

He was vaguely aware of passerbys staring at him, and hardly aware of Mrs. Hudson gently guiding him back to the class.

"I know this is sad and confusing, dear, but I know things will get better. My husband got sentenced to death row a while back, and Bobbys wife was also killed, and things get better. They get better."

Sherlock was hardly aware of the rest of Mrs. Hudson's gentle murmuring or calming aura and had no idea what happened when he got back into the class.

It was only at about 3 am when he finally came to, sitting on his bed, trunks packed,  and a note from Mycroft explaining that they were leaving to visit their mom the next day, then were staying in their home town for the funeral, that their dad was dead, and that Mycroft knew Sherlock probably tuned out all of this information due to the grief and trama. He'd also instructed Sam to keep the window open, seeing as fresh air helped him.

Sam was asleep, or feigning it. Sherlock couldn't tell. His back was to him.

His trunks were also packed.