It was night. Mycroft was asleep in his bed, so was Mummy and Daddy. The whole house seemed to be in a spell, all except for the young 10-year old Sherlock, who laid on his bed thinking. Thinking about what? Nobody will ever know. Perhaps the Theory of Time-travel, or the mysterious blue box he saw the other day, or that weird man wearing a red fez. Suddenly, out of the silence of the night, there was a low hoot of an elderly owl and a folded up sheet of paper slid from under his window sill, falling gently onto the carpeted navy blue floor like an autumn leaf. Curious, Sherlock rolled over to his side and reached to pick up the letter.
Rich, yellowed, sand paper, parchment, newly made despite parchment rarely used now in the modern world, Sherlock's mind instantly deduced for him. A red wax symbol was stamped across the fold of the paper, with the letter H pressed in it in a stunning cursive. It looked like someone has spent a lot of time and effort into carving that stamp, forming it so that it had four sections. To represent houses, he deduced again. A raven, a lion, a snake, and a badger. The young boy slowly peeled the wax off the paper and unfolded the letter.
"You're a wizard, Sherlock!" the letter instantly boomed, shaking the house from its grounds, almost, waking every living soul up.
"BOR-ING!" Sherlock called. He tossed it out the window. Below him, Hagrid frowned at the boy's reaction. Definitely not what he excepted.
My friend said this was her favorite fanfic I wrote. Ok.