Sherlock Holmes sits in his compartment, alone. His brother, Mycroft, a prefect, was in the front. Of course, he wouldn't want to sit with Mycroft, his annoying older brother, unless forced to do so. And no one wanted to sit with him because of his 'gift'. He can tell someone's life story by just looking at them. Everyone thought he was weird. They called him a freak. Then he learned that he was magic. Now he's going to Hogwarts. Most people would be very excited, but Sherlock is pretty bored. "Excuse me, but may I sit here?" asks a kid. Short, blond: a first year. "Yes, I suppose so." replies Sherlock. "Oh, thank you. I'm John Watson, by the way. Who're you?" asks John, "I'm Sherlock Holmes, Half-blood. You're a Muggleborn, I presume." notes Sherlock, "How'd you know?" asks John, "I can tell things about people. See, I make deductions, and I can't help it. You can leave if you like." sighs Sherlock, mentally kicking himself. "Cool! What can you tell about me?" asks John, "Really?" asks Sherlock, "Really!" nods John. Sherlock tells John his whole life story, looking at John. "You're amazing! How can you do this?" asks John, "I could do this for as long as I can remember. Everyone's called me a freak." sniffs Sherlock, "What?! No way! It's so cool!" grins John, "Thanks, John." smiles Sherlock. "You should smile more, Sherlock. It lights up your face." notes John, "Really?" asks Sherlock, "Really." answers John.
Author's Note: Do I own Sherlock or Harry Potter? No I do not. I do not own anything here. Cross my hearts and hope to die.