Escrita por: ~TimeLadyMycroft
Not even uncle Myke's political influence could keep me in a school for more than 2 years, and that was only once, what end up in a murder. I've already had been in three traditional London schools and it never end up well.
I believe my uncle's initial idea was putting me in a boarding school, were he doesn't needed to educate me or bare my presence, but in my first year with him, when I couldn't say a word, that wasn't an option. So we had to live together, grown a relationship, until the moment he couldn't send me away anymore. I couldn't be more grateful for that, not just because boarding schools are a nightmare, but because I wouldn't survive without our relationship.
Now he needed a new technique to keep me actually studying without killing someone else. Unfortunately, the solution was a military school and it's bloody uniform. It makes sense I guess, he was closed to the higher levels of the British army, and practically controls the tactic institution, I would be save and people would knew that treat me wrong was the same as treat the Mycroft Holmes wrong.
But I was nervous.
By experience, I know how every normal human devolve some kind of angry for me. And it wasn't because of my intelligence, how uncle used to say, or because I'm "different" as Anthea thought. I was born to be hated, people hate me since the beginning, sometimes it get worse as time passes or it just happen right away. It happened with my father, with uncle Sherlock, my grandparents, any colleges or teachers, even I hated myself.
The only two people who never hated me were uncle Myke and Anthea, but I don't count her because we barely see each other for real. My only fear was losing uncle Myke to that too.
I put on the red quepe and hate every part of what it's in the mirror. I was too short for my age, too skinny for my age, and too pale for any normal human being. My face is tin with well defined cheekbones, just like uncle Sherlock, but it was just weird on me, maybe if my hair was longer, with bigger curves like his, it wouldn't be so ugly. The blue eyes outed on the pale skin, but they weren't clever as uncle Sherlock's, maybe the same color, although not the same beauty. I wonder why they don't have the same nice shine as my mother's.
The blue clothes makes me hate that situation more and more. It let me more pale, the skirt is to short, the socks are too high, and I'm horrible putting the tie. I was looking like a star of a pedophile porn movie.
— Ready? — uncle Myke watches me from the door, the three pieces suit fits him perfectly, beautiful — You can't be late, you need to have discipline in this school, just like we agreed.
— I know, uncle Myke — he bounds behind me, putting his arms around my shoulders, straighting the tie, gentle. I let my head fall in this shoulder and feel an urge of hug him. — How long do you think I'll last there?
— It's going to be different now, Louise — I search for his eyes on the mirror — You will behave just like we agreed, will play in the school band, follow the rules and always be near a known official. Soon you'll be in Oxford, trust me.
I want to say I'm not like him, who was called to college 5 years early, I'm not smart enough, neither had an perfect historic record. But I just smile shortly and take my backpack. I don't feel ready for this.
— Well, well, I was waiting for a younger lady! — the man in front of me is smiling, the dark eyes almost fading away — Mycroft you almost have an woman in you house.
Uncle's reaction makes me stop my laugh, the man would never notice, but the cold face of the British officer got colder when he said that. I guess the idea of me growing up wasn't his favourite. I observe him a bit, but turn my face to the man to keep it straight.
The general is very skinny and as tall as uncle, all his uniform is in perfect position, every medal is in perfect organisation. He seems to always be in a "ready to receive orders" position, I wonder if my uncle is his superior or if he is like that all the time. The fact is, he was very focused on being a man from the army, or he was just to traumatized to keep things out of place, maybe ocd was the problem. By his age I can try to guess in witch war he fought, none worthy of course, any war is truly worthy.
I turn my look to the floor, hating myself, how, in a military school, I could be thinking that way? Why I were analyzing the man? I had to behave, as uncle said.
The building was huge and it was in lots of shades of white and grey, just like a tombstone. I notice the statues and well cuted plants, but don't allow myself to observe with more attention. I needed to focus, actually pay attention on what uncle Myke and the general were talking about.
— Yes... — uncle Mycroft turns to me, observing my face carefully — She's already a big lady... May we talk about her historic in your office?
We follow the man inside, I resist the impulse to hold my uncle's hand, and just focus on behaving. The corridors were old, with dead plants all over the place and boring paintings on the walls. The floor was wooden and cracky in a weird shade of red, I could almost imagine people being murder in that red, their blood would disappear into de wood...
I swallow hard. It was the most cold and sinister school I've ever got in. I imagine the people, were they cold and sinister too? The general was. His calm and tense walk isn't even the most passive aggressive thing in his whole being. He's a granade, can explode in any step. How were the other teachers?
General Needham's office is on the first floor, it's big, with lots of books and some pictures. His wooden desk is very beautiful and full of papers, there's nothing personal in it, no family pictures, the whole room was about the army and that's it. I shake my head and stop staring at things, I can't deduce him, if I don't, I won't have wrong things to talk about and I will not put myself into trouble.
— I was surprised when you called me, Mycroft — he sits behind the desk, waiting for my uncle to sit first. On my lack of attention, I just follow them after a few seconds, but I'm happy about it, maybe it looks like respect in his view, maybe he takes longer to hate me — Specially in the meddle of the year. Don't you think miss Holmes will be affected? Miss her friends?
What friends? I contain a sarcastic laughter.
— Louise is, in fact, looking for friends — uncle smiles sweetly, putting the hand on top of my head. In a profound effort, I hold my ironical eyebrow and simply stare ate him, trying to keep a straight face. Liar! — Her last school wasn't providing the companies I want for her.
I want to say there were rich people in my old school, and the problem was with me and the hate I bring to myself. I want to say that I don't like the richy annoying kid too, and that I have no interest on getting involve with them. I want to say that rich kids have a tendency to be cruel and arrogant, and I couldn't bare their presence and their illusions of superiority. I want to say I don't have my uncle's political talents of ignoring things I consider wrong, and that my mom was exactly the same as me.
But I decide to shut my mouth and force a smile.
— I understand perfectly your concern, Mycroft, here she will find friends way more equivalent with who she is — once more I make an effort to keep my face peaceful. Who I am exactly? The problematic orphan niece of the British government? — And how is she at school? Good grades?
— They could be better — he stare at me sharply and I wonder why I still love him, he was officially asking for a punch or two. My grades were the only great things about me, the least thing he couldn't be disappointed about it. — But still the best of her last class.
— Very exigent — he turns to me, his eyes make me uncomfortable, something about militaries unwell me — We are very exigent too, Louise, just like your uncle. You have to show some effort and be one of the best if you don't want to receive an special attention from me — that words would hardly sound unharmful, but in his voice sounded even worst. What was his kind of special attention? I hold my impulse to search the answer in uncle's eyes, normally they say exactly what I need to hear, but I choose not to move — But, if you want an good kind of attention, advantages... You will be one of our best. Have you ever thought about the military carrier?
I sit straight on the chair and I feel uncle Myke apprehensive beside me, hands crossed on the lap, to the rest of the planet he was keeping the cold and contained face, but I know him, he was waiting my answer.
— No, sir — both man react negatively, very discreetly, my fingers shake on my lap, but I hold them strong and don't shut my mouth — A soldier must be in total control of his emotions, do the right decisions, count casualties as if weren't human lives, stay calm. I'm not such an good person, sir.
He agrees, shaking the head with a pensative expression, approving my answer, I allow myself a small smile. Uncle Mycroft gives me my favorite proud face. So far nobody was angry, my new personal record.
— Maybe we can modify that, young lady — he smiles to uncle, conspiring, and receive a fake smile in exchange. Changing me wasn't one of his objectives — But now is not the moment to discuss that. The young lady should already be in class. Come with me, huh?
We stand up, and I can barely feel my legs. My uncle whispers instructions in my ear, but I can't focus on the words, my only wish is to wrap my arms around him and don't let go, I know is childish, want to have someone holding my hand while I'm obligated to meet new people, specially when I don't deserve this kind of care
Silently, I follow to man through a wooden stair, his heavy steps making my heart freeze. Anticipation is the best trick on a torture section, I hear that "by luck" when I "walked by" my uncle's door during one of his meetings. And I knew it was right. All of that was going to be such a torture to me, get to know people I knew were going to hate me, that would probably be cruel, but the worst part was the the calm walk to my destiny. I didn't knew how would be, who or why, and, without following the steps, my imagination was running free.
— Nervous? — Needham asks in a low voice, smile getting to his eyes, I realised his face is full of small scars, I wonder how they get there. He is trying to be kind, I know, but my hands shakes hardly with it — I know you are nervous. It's scary as hell to meet new people, but relax, okay? Nobody is hurting you here.
Even making some effort, I can't force a smile. If my mouth opens, maybe I can't close it, screaming in fear, or maybe doesn't let a sound go. My heart goes against my ribs with the idea of never speaking again.
He knocks hard in the big door, while I try to keep my legs from running the other way. The class room was all made on wood, dust and old particles of time. All the students stand when see the general, who makes them sit again with a wave of the head. I can't let go the idea of dogs. Just like animal farm and the pig Napoleon
The teacher is young and short, with dark and well cut hair, he has a nice expression, joviality was all over him, with a sweet smile, making dimples on his cheeks, friendly looking at me. Handsome and confident.
— Our brand new student — his voice is excited, while he places his hands together. His clothes are simple and look old, in his neck and very purple stone shine. That was the last person I expected to see in a military facility. I loved him — I left a chair spared just for you, miss — he points the very first chair in the middle of the class, and opens an sarcastic smile to the general — As you requested, sir.
They stare at each other, hostility almost burning the air between them. The students share smiles, that conflict wasn't new. While I watch them a realisation hits me: they were all the same. Girls with long hair in a behave ponytail, light make up and arrogance all over their faces. The boys shared the short hairstyle, all brushed to the same side. All of them with this weird angry and cold expressions, superiors. I was completely out of shape, more then normally.
— Well, class — Needhan turns to the kids, forcing a more calm face — Miss Holmes is you new sister — my eyes get wider facing the floor and the teacher hides a smile in his hand, clearly marking some effort to keep it together — You will share you space, your life and your learnings with her. You will grow up together, that mean you are equal. And, as equal, you'll be treated the same. Understood?
— Sir, yes, sir — they all answer in one voice and and will to cry comes to my chest. They were... Equal. Trained copies. It wasn't the place for my music, for my deductions or intelligence. It wasn't a place for me.
I sit after he's gone, worrying about keep my eyes on the teacher always, he smiles sweetly and stops in front of me with the arms crossed in the chest, nail painted in a transparent shine, hair well putted to look messed. Gay or metrossexual?
— My name is Ian Pasteur. Do you enjoy chemistry, miss Holmes? — his voices goes through my name in a calm satisfaction, like a conquer.
— Yes, sir — I let my eyes analyse the equations on the board. Thankfully I recognize some.
— Good... — he follows my eyes, twitching his skinny body, as heavy as a feather, I feel he is going to test me and that calms my heart, finally I'm on my comfort zone — You are Mycroft Holmes's niece, right? — his eyes come to mine, dark and profound eyes, his smile wasn't reaching them. My rise my eyebrows, what should I answer? He doesn't permit me to, shaking his head. I notice a small talk behind me, they've recognised the name. What kind of children knew my uncle? What kind of place was that? — Yes... You really look like Theres, you know? — he ignores my wide eyes trying to understand. He was far too younger than my uncle, didn't look like someone of my family would keep a relationship. He knew my mother — Miss Holmes... — a small laugh goes through my name as he say it — Tell your colleagues witch is the kind of reaction you have on the board.