Dedicated to my Tumblr buddy ibelieve-inall-things-riddikulus; this story would sit in my head, unwritten without her ideas and beta-ing.
Holmes at Hogwarts
Chapter 1
Mr and Mrs Holmes of Holmes Manor were happy to say that their family is perfectly normal, thank you very much.
Well, fairly normal.
Well, maybe not normal at all.
You see, dear reader, the house of Holmes have been a fairly unusual family. The late Mr Holmes, Mr Siger Holmes's father, was a highly eccentric man, who was extremely fond of macaroons to the point of obsession. He seems to be also slightly mad. For one thing, the Holmes boys have claimed that he would make the plate of macaroons that the maid brought up and make them tap dance, and all sorts of nonsense like that, believe me or not.
Another reason would be Mycroft Holmes, their elder son. A well-spoken and well-dressed boy with impeccable manners and abilities, seemingly normal at the first glance.
Until a Professor Kettleburns visited the Manor to contradict them, that is.
He apparently is a magical wizard, like Mycroft ("Poppycock!" Mr Siger Holmes cried) and is to come to Hogwarts, a school and a place for people like him, and there is nothing "you Muggles can do about it!" Mycroft, of course, accepted the offer almost at once, being the curious child he is, before Mr and Mrs Holmes could say anything. Professor Kettleburns beamed at him, and pulled a live barn owl, a pheasant quill and a bottle of ink that nearly spilled on the fluffy snowy white rug and proceeded to write a note, actions all of which have been greeted by helpless glares from Mrs Holmes. They were then more or less forced to accompany Mycroft to Diagon Alley, buying all sorts of magical things. Mycroft then departed to Platform 9 ¾, excited and in his brand new robes, happily waving a wand.
Poor Mr and Mrs Holmes thought their troubles are over, and this wouldn't affect their 5 year old son Sherlock, who was playing and jabbering away contently in the nursery, somehow occasionally upsetting his nanny and several other maids.
You could imagine the shocked look on Mr and Mrs Holmes' faces when the letter arrived for Sherlock, specifying exactly where his bedroom is. Sherlock engaged in his deduction mode right away.
"Parchment not paper, likely to be an ancient company, possibly deals in writing utensils, has a seal, confirms suspicions. Seal looks more like… a school crest, therefore an old school, possibly a university, the recipient's address hand-written in green ink..." Sherlock paused for a moment, puzzled. This doesn't add up. He went over the facts in head, his face eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He breathed out a jet of hot air, like a little frustrated dragon, and stamped his tiny slippered feet, and folded his pirate-patterned pyjama-ed arms.
"IT DOESN'T ADD UP!" Sherlock screamed.
"What's wrong, Sherly, dear?" Mrs Holmes asked, worried of what is going to come next. After all, Sherlock doesn't accept unnatural things.
Well, maybe except Peter Pan and Neverland.
"BUT IT CAN'T BE BOTH A SCHOOL AND, and…" He swallowed. "From the past!" The boy spluttered, his other-wise smooth face wrinkling and his nose turned up in disgust at the very thought. "It can't be right, it just can't!" He stamped his feet, emphasising each word with a stamp.
At the other end of the table, Mr Siger Holmes raised his eyebrows while drinking his tea, a look that clearly said 'Sherlock, stop behaving like a five-year-old.'
"Sherlock! Do quiet down!" Mycroft appeared around the corner of the gigantic dining hall, slouching and scowling at 'Captain John The Amazing Cat Of The Captain Sherlock Of The Great Purple Magnifying Glass And Mycroft Ate The Last Cookie', whom everyone except Sherlock calls Jack. He (Mycroft, not John) raised his eyebrows.
"NO, I DO NOT REQUIRE YOUR ASSITANCE MYCROFT!" Sherlock thought for a moment, his hands in the prayer position resting under his chin, cheeks puffed out like a puffer fish. "OK, fine, maybe a tiny bit."
Mycroft took a look at the dining room table and saw the dreaded letter, and pride swelled in his chest, which slowly got crushed by the realisation that his little brother is going to Hogwarts and possibly be in the same House as he is. He then felt guilty as he recalled his little brother's 11th birthday, and guiltier still, when he recalled that the cake on the kitchen that the cook was frosting was the cake, and he, Mycroft Holmes, ate the whole 15-inch chocolate cake (to celebrate his newly granted prefect status) while the cook went to the shops get more sugar for the frosting.
"First of all, happy birthday, and my most sincere wishes to you.
"Secondly, that is a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a literally magical place where I go to every term instead of Eton. I expected Mother and Father to have told you that a letter might come on your birthday, but based on your tantrum, they clearly haven't.
"Thirdly, congratulations," Mycroft tried, and failed, to hide his grimace, "You are Magical, and therefore, attend Hogwarts with me, where there are people like us. We'll learn to control our abilities there, and follow an entirely different route to all of your friends."
"But magic only exists in fairy tales and bedtime stories!" Sherlock's little logical head was spinning. "And I don't have friends," he said defiantly. "I don't need any. I've already got Captain John of the Great Purple Magnifying Glass." He picked up and cuddled the golden-furred Persian who was now purring contently in his owner's arms.
"Mycroft, dear, Daddy and I have business to attend to. We'll be gone for a few hours, and then we could go to…the magical ally way to get Sherly's supplies." Mrs Holmes awkwardly announced, happy to leave all the explaining to Mycroft; he would have been better at explaining that stuff to Sherly than her or Siger. Their exit left the thick silence in the dining room with the two younger Holmes.
"Don't worry, Mother, I'll take him." Mycroft called after them, still guilty that he ate the cake.
Their parents gave a grateful nod, and departed in their car, leaving their boys in the dining hall, when the driver drove them off to their destination.
"But Mycroft," Sherlock stopped burrowing his face in John's fur and looked up. "How am I magical? I mean, I'm a Consulting-Pirate-Detective, the only one in the world, not a Wizard!"
"Well, you apparently are, unless you wouldn't have gotten the letter."
"But how?"
Mycroft started ticking off the times when Sherlock showed magical potential. "When you were younger, you could turn the mobile above your head without any kind of movement up there. And there was this time when John the Cat got zoomed into your bedroom when you wanted him. There was also that time when you lifted the batch of cookies above my head. You crashed it down on my head afterwards." Mycroft grimaced. "That was not fun."
Sherlock seemed to consider this for a while.
"After all, my dear little brother, when you have eliminated the impossible, the rest, however improbable, must be…"
"…True." Sherlock grinned and hugged John, his grin getting bigger and bigger until it seemed to be stretched from ear to ear, and bright as the full moon.
"Mycroft?"
"Yes?"
"When are we going to the…um…the magical alley way that Mummy mentioned?"
The senior Holmes grinned. His younger brother, Sherlock Holmes, shall be a great wizard.
Well, thank you for reading it. Chapter 2 shall be coming soon, depending on my homework load! Critism is appreciated (but please don't be mean..)