FIVE- Having Fun, Babe?

                                    

                                          
Anita, Lestrade, Donovan, and the boy's got out of a police car and started walking towards the front entrance of St. Aldate's school. There was a woman with a shock blanket wrapped around her leaning against another police car and blowing her nose. 
                          
"Miss Mackenzie, House Mistress. Go easy," Lestrade told Sherlock quietly. Lestrade stopped walking while Sherlock approached Miss Mackenzie. 
                          
"Miss Mackenzie, you're in charge of pupil welfare, yet you left this place wide open last night. Which are you: an idiot, a drunk, or a criminal?" Sherlock questioned, loudly and angrily. He grabbed the shock blanket off of her and she gasped. 
                          
"Now quickly, tell me!" Sherlock continued in the same tone. Anita glared at him, but knew what he was doing. 
                          
"All the doors and windows were properly bolted. No-one- not even me- went into their room last night. You have to believe me!" Miss Mackenzie replied, tearfully and cowering in terror. Sherlock's mean demeanor instantly melted away and he smiled reassuringly at Miss Mackenzie.
                          
"I do. I just wanted you to speak quickly. Miss Mackenzie will need to breathe into a bag," Sherlock said and walked off. Anita patted Miss Mackenzie on the shoulder and apologized for Sherlock before chasing after him and the others.
                          
"Six grand a term, you'd expect them to keep the kids safe for you. You said the other kids left on their holidays?" John questioned. Sherlock was looking through a cupboard beside one of the beds and Anita was on her knees and looking under the bed. She was technically on the clock, but Lestrade wasn't too strict when Sherlock came on cases, knowing he would drag Anita away anyways. 
                          
"They were the only two sleeping on this floor. Absolutely no sign of a break-in. The intruder must have been hidden inside some place," Lestrade reasoned as Sherlock picked up a lacrosse stick and got up on his feet, looking at it closely. 
                          
Anita moved from looking under the bed to the wooden trunk at the foot of the bed. Anita opened the lid and saw a large envelope with a wax seal on the back, which was broken like someone had already opened it. Anita's face scrunched up but she carried on. Feeling the package, Anita could tell it was a large hardcover book. After looking over the envelope again, Anita took the book out and flipped it over to look at the cover, Grimm's Fairy Tales. Sherlock looked over to see what Anita found, and she prompted the book up for him to see the cover as well. Sherlock took the book from her and riffled through the pages quickly.
                          
"Show me where the brother slept," Sherlock ordered as he looked up from the book. Anita and the boys went to another, smaller dormitory and Sherlock looked around the room. 
                          
"The boy sleeps there every night, gazing at the only light source outside in the corridor. He'd recognize every shape, every outline, the silhouette of everyone who came to the door," Sherlock explained as he gestured to the bed.
                          
"Okay, so..." Lestrade trailed off, not understanding why it was important. Anita took a step backwards, heading towards the door that they just came through. 
                          
"So someone approaches the door who he doesn't recognize, an intruder. Maybe he can even see the outline of a weapon," she explained as she stepped outside the door, pulling it until it almost closed. Anita then raised her hand and pointed her fingers like they were a gun, showing what an intruder might look like through the frosted glass. 
                          
"What would he do in the precious few seconds before they came into the room? How would he use them if not to cry out?" Sherlock questioned as Anita walked back into the room. Sherlock was still looking around the bed, searching the boy's possessions. 
                          
"This little boy; this particular little boy...who reads all of those spy books. What would he do?" Sherlock asked. 
                          
"He'd leave a sign?" Anita offered, though she wasn't too confident in her answer. Sherlock sniffed noisily and picked up a cricket bat and sniffed along its sides. Putting the bat down, he squatted and sniffed around the bedside table, then reached under the bed and picked up an almost empty glass bottle of linseed oil.