Chapter Text
Crunchem Hall Primary School was one of two primary schools in the small village. It was considered to be a school of discipline and learning, one that was separate from the UK’s typical state-funded schools. It was still subjected to regular inspections by the Office for Standard Education but was primarily funded by tuition and grants for scholarships for parents in the village who might feel their child would thrive there but might not be able to afford the cost. Some students also commuted or stayed with boarding families if they wanted to attend but didn’t live nearby. With approximately 250 students, it taught roughly over half of the children in the village under secondary school level and others who live in the nearby county who commuted through car or by bus, all the while offering evening and night classes to adults at the university level.
The Headmistress, Agatha Trunchbull, was a former Olympic athlete who founded the school, building it on the property she received from her late brother-in-law. The woman was known as strict and suffered no foolishness and, as William faced her now, he had to agree with that intel. She was a rather large woman, and he was sure much of her mass was made of muscle. Her graying hair was tied back in a rather tight bun that almost looked painful on purpose and while she seemed to have a pleasant smile on her face, there was a hint of cunningness in her eyes that even sent a shiver down William’s spine. This was a woman not to be messed with, and he should keep his guard up.
“Well, Mr. Moriarty, I see that your credentials, resume, and documents are all in order.” Trunchbull said, looking through the stack of papers William had brought with him to this interview. He and Sherlock had agreed that no matter what he found, he should comply and try not to make too much of a scene until they were able to find solid evidence linking her to the death of Magnus Honey or, at the most, wait until the first term had ended. At the very least, they could use anything else he found to add onto the case or move on to any other suspects. “Tell me, why do you want to teach here? You have a job at a prestigious university and your family is rather well-off.”
“Well, Miss Trunchbull, I’ve been feeling a little too relaxed in my current position. I figured a change of scenery and the added challenge of teaching a younger age group would benefit me.”
“Hmm… I suppose so. Just be aware that the children here are more like maggots.”
“Excuse me?” William frowned a little.
“Many of their parents send them here to discipline them; they’re troublemakers at home and need it to be stamped out of them before it becomes too much of a habit. Our ways here may seem a little… extreme, but the results have proven them effective.”
“I don’t really think I understand…”
“Simple. We take in the vile and disgusting creatures people call children, and we stamp out the will to misbehave and revolt from them. When they graduate onto secondary school, they’ll be ready for society to mold them into actual human beings.”
“You make your point rather graphically.” William said. He was disliking this woman more and more, but he had to hold his tongue.
Trunchbull nodded. “Well, either way, you have everything in order and your references seem fine. You’re actually the most qualified candidate we’ve gotten for this job.” She stated. “You’ll begin at the start of term. You’ll have to find your own lodgings and transportation, but your schedule is that you’ll be teaching maths for the adult classes on Mondays and Thursdays from 6pm until 7pm, and primary classes Mondays through Fridays from 8:45am until 3:30pm. You’ll be put in charge of the sixth years so base your lesson plans around ten and eleven-year-olds.”
“Okay, thank you, Headmistress.” William did his best to put on his most grateful smile as he shook her hand. Holding in any animosity he felt towards her was already a challenge in itself.
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It didn’t take long for the Moriartys to find a house in the village to rent that would suit their needs. The owner lived in a larger town some ways away from there and only used the house for a portion of the summer time, renting it out to visitors on holiday or people who wanted a taste of the British countryside for the rest of the year. He seemed all too thrilled when they told him they would like to rent it out for the end of the summer and the entirety of the school year, paid in full. The house was modest compared to the manors in London and Durham; it hosted three bedrooms and two bathrooms with bath tubs in both and was within biking distance from the school. William could even walk if he wished.
Of course, this would mean that they would need to place their other plans on hold, but after that first impression of Agatha Trunchbull, William decided that it was a sacrifice worth making. Albert and the others at MI6 would just have to make do without them for the time being, though the eldest Moriarty had also mentioned that he might look into the case himself out of curiosity.
As the start of term approached, he met with a few of the other teachers. The majority of the staff in general seemed to be old and close to retirement age, but there was something else William took notice: the fear in their eyes. They gave him cryptic warnings, like how anything he witnesses at the school should be best forgotten outside those walls. This just left him more suspicious of the Headmistress and all the more concerned for the children.
“Excuse me, sir? Is everything all right?” He was snapped out of his thoughts by a woman who looked to be around his own age, maybe a couple years younger than him at most. She was the only other teacher around his age at the school.
“Oh, yes, sorry. I guess I was just lost in thought.”
“Yes, I suppose anyone would be. I’m sorry for how they’re acting… It’s not often we get new staff here. My name is Jennifer Honey, but everyone usually just calls me Jenny.” She held out her hand. Ah, so this must be Trunchbull’s niece.
“William James Moriarty.” William shook her hand. “Jenny, why does everyone look so…”
“Fearful?”
“Yes. I find it rather odd…”
Jenny gave him a sheepish look. “My aunt… She tends to be strict.”
“So I’ve heard. She also doesn’t seem to think highly of children.”
“I sometimes think she hates them.” Jenny admitted, her voice quiet. “Everyone here is too afraid to stand against her though. She says that if anyone so much as complains to Ofsted, they’ll never work again or she’ll bring them down with her.”
“That sounds more like extortion.”
“But her threats aren’t empty…” She said, sadly, and then took a breath. “But, anyway, we do try to make it bearable for the kids and do what we can to help them succeed. The classroom you’ll be using for your night classes is the one I use during the day. It’s for the youngest students so I hope you’ll forgive how it looks. We try to make it as welcoming and colorful as we can.”
William couldn’t help but smile. “It won’t be an issue. I’m sure the kids must love learning there.”
“I do hope so.”
The interactions with Jenny and the rest of the staff did nothing to quell William’s growing disdain towards the Headmistress, but he knew that causing too much of a scene now would just draw too much attention towards himself. This was Holmes’s plan, and it would be bad if he deviated this early on. Sherlock himself was out of town, investigating a few leads he had involving people from the circus that Magnus and his wife used to work at as escapologist and acrobat respectively.
He figured a walk through the village would help him, if anything, to cool down his nerves and emotions.
He was walking through a residential area when he saw a mobile library bus parked on the side of the road. Deciding to check it out, he quickened his pace and went right up to it.
The librarian, a woman who was busying herself with organizing a few returned books, saw him. “You’re a new face.”
“Yes, I’ve just moved here to teach at one of the schools.” William smiled.
“Ah, well, welcome to our humble village.” She smiled. “Most of the people around here just call me Mrs. Phelps.”
“My name is William Moriarty. I see you run a mobile library.”
“While our village has a sizeable population, we don’t have a standard library. But I partner up with libraries in the larger towns to bring books here. I usually put them on rotation, but if anyone needs a specific book, I order it or get it on loan from them. My motto is that no one should be denied from the joys of reading, even in more remote areas like this.”
“A worthy pursuit.” William smiled.
“I’m glad you think so, Mr. Moriarty.”
“Please, just William.”
“Mrs. Phelps, I’ve finished with this book-” Peeking over the top of the vehicle was the head of a child, a girl who looked to be maybe five years of age. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was anyone else here.”
“It’s all right, Matilda. Anyway, which book did you finish this time?”
“Jane Eyre.” Matilda said. “Do you have anything else like it?”
“Not at the moment but it’s almost rotation day so I can keep it in mind. But Matilda, it’s getting late, shouldn’t you be heading home soon? I’m sure your parents must be worried.”
“Oh, yes, you’re right.” Matilda said, though William detected some disappointment in the child’s voice. She disappeared back onto the bus’s roof and he heard her gather some items before climbing down the bus’s ladder carrying books and a blanket. “My mum does get worried about me when I’m not around. Dad too. But, you know, I just think that adults need their own space.” William hid his frown as he saw she seemed to be saying this more to herself than him and Mrs. Phelps, as if trying to convince herself that this was the case. Mrs. Phelps helped take the blanket and the books she’d finished reading before Matilda took her backpack that looked to be full of more books from inside the van and ran off, vanishing around a corner.
“That there was Matilda Wormwood, a regular.” Mrs. Phelps explained. “She’s young, hasn’t even started school yet, but she has an incredible mind and a thirst for learning and books already.”
“I was just going to say, isn’t Jane Eyre as little advanced for her reading level?”
“That’s what I thought too the first time she decided to pick up a chapter book when she was only four, but she continuously surprised me.” The old librarian smiled. “But don’t worry, William, she does still read books geared for her age group. The Cat in the Hat was in that stack of books she took home. I suspect you’ll see her at school when the term begins in a few days.”