Sherlock Isn't a Girl's Name (Formerly Some Assembly Required)

Part 2

It is only two years later that Sherlock develops his cold, almost cruel manner.

It all starts with his teacher.

~~~

Sherlock's stare is icy. The chalkboard at the front of the classroom holds one of his least favorite words on it.

Pronouns

It appears innocent enough, just a simple lesson in the English language. To his ridiculously dull classmates, that's exactly what it is. He'd learned this bit at age four.

''Now, pronouns are words that take the place of nouns. Words like it, they, he, she,'' that last word, with that emphasis and that dagger glance in his direction pierces Sherlock's chest like an arrow. His bottom lip twitches, but he won't let out any other sign of a reaction.

This is a battle, and Sherlock won't let his weaknesses show.

The first day he came to this school, he tried to explain what exactly he wanted from this teacher. He'd requested, with a smile and a please even, that she use the name Sherlock when talking about him and use male pronouns for him.

She then proceeded to introduce him to the class as Andrea, the new girl.

Sherlock had hated her ever since.

''Tell us some examples of a pronoun in a sentence, will you, Andrea?'' The teacher gives him a sickly sweet smile, but her eyes seem sharp.

The hatred is mutual, especially since Sherlock had pointed out her husband's affair. At first she laughed it off, but soon afterwards he overheard her talking to another teacher about how she couldn't trust her husband.

''Obviously, I'll have to explain the whole thing, considering you don't know what pronouns to use.'' His voice is clear and high and cold, as if he is superior to her. He likes this feeling of being the best in the room.

''Perhaps we should go back to the lesson on proper nouns, since you don't know how to use them properly either.'' He adopts a smirk, knowing that he and the teacher are the only two in the room that have any sort of idea what he is talking about.

''Miss Holmes, I'm afraid you can't stay here if you're going to act like that. I'll have to send you to the office.''

''If that's an invitation to leave, then I'll take it. If not, goodbye anyway.''

He stands, scoops up his backpack, and leaves without another word.

Sherlock arrives at the office at nearly the same moment his brother does.

''What now, sister dear?'' Mycroft knows. He always knows. Asking is just a habit.

Sherlock gives him nothing but a stare.

All he gets in return is a sigh of disappointment.