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SH: The Boy and His SkullMore Like This
"I don't understand these grades at all, isn't he settling in?"
Sherlock was up in his room and he could hear his father's voice downstairs the slightly pleading note in it that the man always got when he was trying desperately to understand something that confused him which, in this intellectually acute household, was often.
"I mean, I understand that the move to secondary school has been hard on Sherlock, but these are just.....I mean, he's a very clever child, I don't understand. How can he fail everything?"
"Weren't you supposed to be looking out for him, Mycroft?" he heard his mother accuse, her voice stronger, attempting to take action. Having been a teacher herself some years ago, she rather dominated this conversation, pushing his father back to only making empathetic but generally useless comments.
"I can only do so much, mum." Mycroft replied, sounding offended. "I can hardly force him to make friends, or participate in class, and if he doesn't bloody well sp
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