Another probably boring year.
All the excitement from playing with a certain dark lord named James Moriarty finally came crashing down as he, Sherlock Holmes, sits in one of the compartments in the Hogwarts Express.
Indeed, he could have just flooed in or stayed at Hogwarts weeks prior today but where is the fun in that? He has been in that castle as a professor for quite a while now, and has roamed around the school when he was still a student. As of now, he has explored possibly all the secret passages in the castle without the help of Potter's secret map. Things tend to get boring after years of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts to students who cloud their minds with the thought that only magic can save them in the end.
Sitting on the train like this relaxes his mind. A wave of nostalgia washes over him as he remembers sitting with Mike Stamford—who is three years older than him [1]. Mike went out of their compartment for a little while and came back with none other than John Watson.
As he tries to remove the memory from his mind to remove the distraction, he arranges his mind palace which he had created by using muggle means. Using his mastered skill in Occlumency, he had heightened and improved its walls and secured the locks to his mind.
Too busy with his mind, he doesn't notice two students enter his compartment. "Sir? Sir? We arrived, sir," he finally hears someone say.
Coming back to the real world, the first thing he sees is a yellow-striped tie and a badge on the coat of the person in front of him. Obviously, the Hufflepuff Prefect would wake him. Hufflepuffs are known to be really helpful most of the time.
Grumbling, he stands up and leaves to go to the castle.
Professor Holmes walks all the way to the said castle, using the time to exercise his legs and to internally prepare himself for another boring year.
—oOo—
ONE YEAR AGO
Sherlock stares at him, his wand pointing at the muggle bomb which Moriarty modified by using magic to run it. Unfortunately, none of them can shield themselves since it is both muggle and wizard made. Therefore, it is more unpredictable and explosive.
Sherlock and John are currently by the lake, beside an old wizarding school where Carl Powers was thought to have drowned after being hit by Stupefy while under water. Sherlock, figuring out that one James Moriarty actually used muggle means to kill a wizard, knowing that any idiotic wizard would blame magic, came to this very spot, holding the key to one of the vault sin Gringotts with the highest maximum security, because inside it stores plans and codes being used in the Ministry of Magic.
Moriarty, then, rolls his eyes, placing an object to his ear. He knows that Sherlock and John can make out that what he holds is a mirror. A one-way mirror, to be exact. It's his way to contact his people and hide his facial identity.
His mirror is much smaller and he already changed the volume of the said mirror so he could only hear a whisper. Hence, why he has to raise the mirror to his ear—like a phone which muggles use. Wizards seriously should learn more from the muggles.
Being open-minded and knowledgeable, Moriarty knows that the muggles have more practicality with technology and are far more advanced than the Wizarding World. Seriously, wizards really think muggles are stupid? They should check their records to see who's stupider.
"Hello?" he asks, irritated.
"Lord Moriarty?" the soft feminine voice asks.
"Yes, of course, it is. What do you want?" He looks at Sherlock and mouths, "Sorry."
"It's fine," Sherlock mouths back at him sarcastically.
"I had a client from the Ministry, and he unconsciously revealed that there is a prophecy about the whole web. Since it is labelled that it is yours and the web's, I can get it."
"SAY THAT AGAIN!" he yells. "Say that again and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will ssssskin you."
"It's with me right now."
"Okay, wait," he says before walking towards the duo.
Sherlock aims his wand firmly at the bomb, and stands even straighter with a threatening stance.
"Sorry—" Moriarty starts—"wrong day to die."
"Oh? Did you get a better offer?"
Moriarty looks down at the small mirror in his hand where he can see the face of Irene Adler winking at him.
"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock."
Sherlock, then, points his want at Moriarty suspiciously, not caring that a lot of Death Eaters (or whatever it is that Moriarty calls them) are pointing their wands at him and John as Moriarty walks away.
He places the mirror to his ear again. "If you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes."
Moriarty snaps his fingers and his Death Eaters disapparate almost immediately.
"What happened there?" John asks.
"Someone changed his mind. Question is: who?" he asks himself.
—oOo—
PRESENT
"Where the hell have you been?" says John Watson, ex-Head Auror and now working alongside Mary Morstan in the hospital wing, is also the Flying Instructor, and helps Professor Holmes in teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts to remind the man that these students are young and can be too sensitive about some topics that he might accidentally deduce and talk about publicly.
"Taking a stroll." Sherlock shrugs. "Did I miss everything?"
"No. You are just in time for the sorting," John replies.
"Ugh, I was expecting to miss it. I can't stand the sorting," Sherlock grumbles. "We just sit here and wait for a hat to yell a name and pretend to clap as if it's the most wonderful thing in the world."
"You're one to talk. I remember being a fourth year and seeing a certain little eleven year old [1] wear the sorting hat and spend ten minutes under the said hat. Hatstall [2], Sherlock. You made a record."
"Stop talking about me being a little eleven year old."
"But you were! You were such a small thing! Smaller than me, too... with your chubby cheeks and squeaky little voice—"
John tries to stop himself from giggling just as Professor Sally Donovan, the deputy headmistress, gives them a warning look while another child is wearing the sorting hat.
"You better stop laughing unless you want me to accidentally slip a de-aging potion down your throat just to see who's little now," Sherlock threatens him.
"You don't have a de-aging potion," John replies.
"I can ask Molly to brew me one."
"She'd probably be too busy teaching Potions."
"I can brew it myself."
"But we both know how impatient you are when it comes to pranking me."
Sherlock grumbles as the sorting continues on. Some of the other professors start to talk to each other as he and John ostracise themselves due to them being both anti-social pricks.
Professor Molly Hooper, who was applying as a Healer to work in the hospital wing, became Hogwarts's new Potions Professor. She is currently talking to Professor Greg Lestrade, who is now at the age of 42 and is also the youngest headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Professor Philip Anderson, who teaches Arithmancy, is currently talking to the Charms Professor: Mike Stamford, the Herbology Professor: Martha Hudson, the School Matron: Mary Morstan, and the Care of Magical Creatures Professor: Rubeus Hagrid [3].
When the last student was sorted, Sherlock lets out a loud, "Finally!" which elicits a few giggles in the female department, and glares from the whole staff—especially from John, Sally, and Molly.
After Headmaster Lestrade told the students to start eating, he casts Muffliato between the staff and the students so no one would hear their conversation.
"So, any news on Moriarty?" Lestrade asks Sherlock immediately.
Some of the professors cringe at the name, not because they fear him like they did with Tom Riddle... well, they do fear Moriarty, but they cringe because of the destruction he has caused last year. They cringe at his monstrous activities and his psychopathy. A lot of muggles and wizards would have died last year if Sherlock, with the help of the other professors, had not solved all of the runes, secrets, ancient spells, and odd deaths from the wizard and muggle world under Moriarty's puppet-master hands.
"Nothing yet. Mycroft believes that he is lying low for a while," Sherlock replies.
"How can we be certain with the minister's guesswork?" Sally asks.
Sherlock rolls his eyes at his brother's title as the Minister of the Wizarding World but answers anyway. "Unlike previous ministers who are idiots, Mycroft makes sure that the nation won't fall down on its knees."
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said about Mycroft," John whispers to Sherlock.
Sherlock scoffs, "I only say what I need to in order to get what I want... and that is for Sally to shut up."
"Spoken like a true Slytherin."
"I'm a Ravenclaw, John."
"May I remind you again that you argued with the sorting hat for ten minutes because it wanted to place you in GryffinClawPuffErin [4]?"
"Shut up, John."
"So, we'll just have to wait, then?" Lestrade asks them, breaking their small banter.
Sherlock answers seriously, "I suppose he is planning something. That man doesn't want war—not like the previous wars, at least. He doesn't want power and glory. No. This man is a child and he wants to play. This man is discrete in his work. We never even knew his name before Jeff Hope was under my mercy." Lestrade and John look at each other at the mention of Jeff Hope—the first puzzle the three of them had solved together. "We need to be on the lookout for him."
"What does he want?" Professor Hudson asks.
"Entertainment," Molly answers. "I still can't believe I dated that monster," she whispers to herself.
"You did force him to watch the Weird Sisters with you. The dark lord, watching a concert, smiling and partying the whole time. Pretty evil of you, if you ask me," Mary laughs.
Molly, then, starts laughing. "It does seem silly, doesn't it?"
"But Molly is right," Sherlock interrupts, "Moriarty—" they cringe—"only wants entertainment. He doesn't want to get bored."
"Which makes him even more dangerous." Lestrade nods.
—oOo—
Having the day-off, Sherlock's peaceful slumber in his usual and private room in the Leaky Cauldron, Room 221B, and tedious solving of an easy case, was interrupted by a man in a muggle suit. Deducing him correctly, he knows exactly where he's going, and refuses to change clothes.
With his dignity, he walks along the pub with nothing but his sheet. People all stare at him as he goes along with his head held high, uncaring about the whispers about his state of clothes. He goes out to London and sees the car and enters with dignity, unknowing that there is someone watching him from afar.
—oOo—
"James Moriarty," she whispers to activate the mirror. Seeing only a shadow of the man, she raises the mirror to her ear. "Hello."
"Did you receive your new present?"
"I did."
"Surely, you already know what to do. What is it?"
"I think it's time, don't you?"
—oOo—
John, on the other hand, is teaching First Year students how to fly when unbeknownst to him, a man in a muggle suit walks towards him.
"Alright, everyone, land," he says loudly and everyone does so. "Alright, you all seem to—"
"Sir Watson?" the man asks.
"Er, yes?" he asks, not really paying attention since—"Don't hit each other with the brooms!"
"It's for you," the man says.
"Oh, okay, thanks," he says, holding out his palm out behind him for a probable potion, book, note, or anything.
"No, sir, the helicopter."
That takes John's full attention when a helicopter makes its way in the field. The students look at it in awe, especially those who are more familiar with muggle inventions. Some of those who aren't familiar are scared of the large metal contraption that has the ability to fly.
"Class dismissed," he tells the students. The students huddle together and whisper about the strange arrival of the Muggle Transportation.
"Don't worry, sir, we already alerted Headmaster Lestrade that you will be having an important meeting," the man says.
"Mary—"
"—was also informed, sir."
"Right," he says, "and how exactly did you bring a helicopter inside Hogwarts? I thought Muggle inventions don't work near wizards, much less a whole school full of them."
The man answers, "It runs through magic, sir."
"How?"
"Special condition, sir. Can't say."
"Right..."
John gets in the helicopter and grins to himself. As a muggle child, one of his childhood dreams was getting to ride a helicopter. It's like the universe loves granting his wishes. He watches as the view to Hogwarts disappears and he arrives at Buckingham Palace.
'What the hell? What do they want from someone like me?' he thinks.
Before he enters the Palace, he is told to wear the muggle clothes that he owned (which they had given him), and he looks around in awe when he gets inside. It may not be like the wizarding castle like Hogwarts, but he sure hell has always wanted to be in Buckingham palace.
Much to his surprise, he sees Sherlock on the couch with only a sheet on. John gives a gesture that says, 'What the fuck is going on?'
Sherlock's gesture must mean, 'Who the fuck knows?' He sits beside him. "Wearing any pants?"
"Hmm, no."
"Okay."
They start laughing uncontrollably.
Barely composing himself, he starts, "We're in Buckingham Palace... Right... Oh... Oh, I am seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray."
They start giggling again. Two well-known teachers at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, two well-known puzzle solvers, two of the well-known saviours of the Wizarding world, giggling about an ashtray.
"What are we doing here, Sherlock? No, seriously, what?"
"I don't know."
"Here to see the Queen?"
Mycroft comes in. "Oh, apparently, yes..." and they start giggling again.
"Just once, can you two behave like grown-ups?"
"He gets in trouble, I write about it, and he forgets his pants. So I wouldn't hold out too much hope."
"I was in the middle of a hard case, Mycroft."
"What? Staying in your room in the Leaky Cauldron to check on illegal activities? I glanced at the landlord's record. Bit obvious, surely?"
"Transparent."
"Time to move on, then... We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on."
"What for?"
"Your client."
"And my client is?"
"Illustrious," a man replies, "in the extreme, and remaining—I have to inform you—entirely anonymous." Sherlock looks at the man without a phone in his pockets and he can make out the shape of a wand holster on his arm. Wizard, then.
"Harry. May I just apologise for the state of my little brother?"
"Full-time occupation, I imagine," the man mocks as Mycroft suppresses his urge to roll his eyes, "and this must be John Watson, formerly Head of the Auror Office. My employer is a tremendous fan of your books."
"Your employer?" John asks, looking at Mycroft who is the Minister of Magic.
"My muggle employer," the equerry smiles. John tilts his head. "Particularly enjoyed the fiction about the Aluminium Wand."
John nods his head in understanding. "Thank you!" He looks at Sherlock pointedly.
"And Mister Holmes, the younger—"
"Professor," Sherlock corrects.
"—you look taller in your photographs."
"I take the precaution of a good coat and a short friend. Mycroft, I don't do anonymous clients. I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases. Both ends is too much work. Good morning."
He moves to walk away but Mycroft manages to step on his sheet in time which causes the sheet to fall, revealing Sherlock's upper body, and wand holster and wand on his arm.
"This is a matter of national importance. Grow up!"
"Get off my sheet!"
"Or what?!"
"Or I'll just walk away."
"I'll let you."
"Boys, please, not here."
"Who. is. my. client?!"
"Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction: you are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now, for God's sake... put your clothes on!"
Sherlock sucks in a breath and a few moments later, is now sitting beside John, fully-dressed as Mycroft pours tea.
"I'll be mother," Mycroft says.
"And there is a whole childhood in a nutshell," Sherlock comments and Mycroft glares at him.
"My employer has a problem."
"Why? Your employer is a muggle. You have a police force of sorts, even a marginally Secret Service? Why come to me?"
"People do come to you for help, don't they, Professor Holmes?"
"Not, to date, anyone with a Navy."
"This is a matter of highest security, and therefore, of trust," Mycroft intervenes.
"You don't trust your own secret service?" John asks.
"Naturally not. They all spy on people for money," Mycroft answers.
John smiles, knowing that all those years ago, the second night he met Sherlock, when he was first kidnapped by the Minister himself, he passed Mycroft's test of being trustworthy enough for Sherlock.
[5] "Fair point," Sherlock replies.
Thinking hard, John asks, "But it's Sherlock you want—what am I doing here?"
"I did wonder myself, Mycroft," the equerry says.
"My baby brother is a genius in his chosen field. But in this case, we need a genius with a conscience—which, typically, my brother has outsourced."
"Oh, great. I'm Jiminy Cricket."
Sherlock and Mycroft both laugh as if bonding once more.
"Actually, that rather works," Mycroft says amusedly, looking at Sherlock.
Agreeing Sherlock replies, "It does, doesn't it?" [5]
"I do think we have a timetable," the equerry sharply reminds Mycroft. Sherlock realises immediately that the man has no idea what they are talking about and wants to end this meeting quickly.
"Yes, of course..." Mycroft clears his throat and opens a briefcase where he gets a photograph and gives it to Sherlock for him and John to see. "What do you know about this woman?"
It is a photograph of a beautiful woman with a face Sherlock would describe that a man might die for.
"Nothing whatsoever."
"Then you should be paying more attention."
"Why ask us wizards?" John interrupts.
"She's been at the centre of two political scandals in the last year and ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately. Amongst wizards, she is practically a Veela in nature, luring people into her own traps." Mycroft informs.
"You know I don't concern myself with trivia. Who is she?" Sherlock asks.
"Lady Irene Adler, a pureblood of the noble and most ancient house of Adler—professionally known as The Woman," Mycroft introduces.
"Professionally?" John asks.
"There are many names for what she does. She prefers, 'Dominatrix'," Mycroft replies.
"Dominatrix..." Sherlock whispers.
"Don't be alarmed. It's to do with sex," Mycroft says.
"Sex doesn't alarm me," Sherlock snaps.
Mycroft chuckles. "How would you know?... She provides—shall we say—recreational scolding for both muggles and wizards who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it. These are all from her profile and our research." He gives him more photographs.
Sherlock looks at the classy photographs of a half-naked Irene Adler, looking regal. He looks at the photographs of their surveillance where she is seen holding her wand, wearing a black lace robe, her hair disarray but still looking as regal in Wizard robes as she was in her Muggle clothes. A photograph of Irene Adler in action. A photograph of Irene walking gracefully along a number of flats... and more photographs of her in lacy lingerie.
"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs?" Sherlock asks.
"You're very quick, Professor Holmes," the equerry says.
"Hardly a difficult deduction... Photographs of whom?" Sherlock demands.
"A person of significance to my employer. We'd prefer not to say any more at this time," the equerry explains.
"You can't tell us anything?" John asks.
"I can tell you that it's a young person—a young female person." Mycroft sighs as the equerry flushes.
"How many photographs?" Sherlock asks.
Mycroft smiles sourly. "A considerable number, apparently."
"Do Lady Adler and this young female person appear in this photographs together?" Sherlock asks with a mocking tone.
"Yes, they do."
"And I assume in a number of compromising scenarios."
"An imaginative range, we are assured."
Sherlock tells John, "John, you might want to put that cup back in your saucer now."
"Can you help us, Mister Holmes?" the equerry asks.
"How?"
"Will you take the case?"
"What case? Pay her, now and in full. As Lady Adler remarks in her masthead, 'Know when you are beaten.'"
Sherlock moves to go when Mycroft cuts him off, "She doesn't one anything. She got in touch. She informed us that the photographs existed. She indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either... money or favour."
Sherlock smirks. "Ooh, a power play—a power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix. Ooh, this is getting rather fun, isn't it?"
"Sherlock," John warns.
"Where is she?" Sherlock asks.
Mycroft starts, "Er, in London, currently, she's staying—"
"Text me the details. I'll be in touch by the end of the day."
"Do you really think you'll have news by then?" the equerry asks.
"No, I think I'll have the photographs," Sherlock replies cockily.
"One can only hope you're as good as you seem to think," the equerry challenges. Sherlock looks at the equerry and deduces him from head to toe.
Dog lover
Hufflepuff
Pureblood
Early riser
Horse Rider
Non-smoker
Tea Drinker
Ex-Ministry Official
"I'll need some equipment, of course," Sherlock says.
Mycroft begins, "Anything you require. I'll have it sent to—"
"Can I have a box of matches?" Sherlock asks, opening his palm out to the equerry.
"You have a wand," Mycroft interrupts.
Sherlock ignores him. "...Or a cigarette lighter? Either would do."
"I don't smoke," the equerry defends.
"No, I know you don't, but your employer does."
The equerry reaches into his pocket and hands Sherlock the cigarette lighter. "We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact, Professor Holmes."
"I'm not the Commonwealth."
"And that's as modest as he gets," John interrupts, "pleasure to meet you."
"Laters!" Sherlock yells.
—oOo—
"Why do you need a cigarette lighter? You can easily make a small amount of fire with a flick of your wand?" John asks as he and Sherlock ride a cab.
"To prove a point."
"Which is?"
"That I am as good as I seem to think," Sherlock mimics the equerry's voice.
John hums. "Okay, the smoking? How did you know?"
"The evidence was right under your nose, John. As ever, you see but you do not observe."
"Observe what?"
"Ashtray."
He shows John the ashtray and John laughs and they both start laughing and talking about the new and odd case of Lady Irene Adler.
—oOo—
[1] It has always been said that John Watson is possibly three years older than Holmes. Since John and Mike went to Bart's together, I had them be in the same year, while Sherlock is three years younger.
[2] Hatstall: A witch or wizard who takes more than five minutes to be sorted.
[3] Hagrid is the ONLY Care of Magical Creatures Professor. No one else. I refuse to believe so. I love Hagrid so much.
[4] Sherlock prides himself with his intelligence which is why he was sorted in Ravenclaw. Plus I would think that Sherlock argued with the Sorting Hat because I would think he's a natural Occlumens and Leglimens.
Ravenclaw because Sherlock is bloody intelligent and he expands his knowledge and deletes those he thinks are not necessary. He is also incredibly talented with his musical abilities and he composes—creativity is one of Ravenclaw's house traits. He is open-minded and he and his mind are one. He is so curious with everything and always seeks the answer to any questions he thinks are interesting. He would rather avoid confrontation but would use his mind to solve it if he is in one. Sherlock is alright being by himself. Also he hates it if people ridicule him for what he thinks is possible (like Seb in The Blind Banker). Sherlock is analytical, think about everything and has opinions about anything, is open-minded, and values his inner world. Also he gets inside his head so much that sometimes he uses that to channel his boredom and loneliness.
Slytherin because well, he's a good manipulator and he's mysterious. He is also ambitious and determined to finish the job. He is sly and gets through things using excuses and sly words. He thinks before he acts most of the time which is a Slytherin trait. But he doesn't care what people think of him unlike in Slytherin which cares about reputation. Sherlock doesn't use connections for his own benefit but rather to solve cases. Sherlock doesn't use knowledge to achieve greatness but for knowledge's sake like in Ravenclaw.
Gryffindor because well he's brave, quick to defend his friends in a fiery way, hate being bored, and like being around his friends (though he doesn't admit it). He's also a magnet of danger. But unlike any other Gryffindor, Sherlock is not interested in being a hero or even acting like one even though there is an open secret that Sherlock has a hero-saving thing and that he is motivated by helping people stop their assaulters and whatever. Sherlock relies on his wits rather than his fists, unlike Gryffindors who are huge risk-takers for the greater good.
Hufflepuff because Sherlock cares deeply for people and secretly enjoy the company of others. Face it, we know Sherlock hates being lonely and feeling unloved. Sherlock is also fiercely loyal, intensely just, and horridly honest. He is also secretly (but everyone knows) thoughtful, kind, and incredibly caring and would not take lightly when someone hurts his friend. But Hufflepuffs are known to be tolerant and Sherlock cannot tolerate stupidity and ignorance. Hufflepuff is group-oriented and though Sherlock is good with his friends, he still likes to be alone at times.
[5] Staring from the first part I wrote "[5]" to the last sentence where I also wrote "[5]", that would be a deleted scene in A Scandal in Belgravia shown in the Sherlock Chronicles.