Sherlock's eyes lingered over Baker Street through the paned glass, the lids closing with boredom. He let out a futile sigh, breaking the selfish silence.
" Do you ever think that this world is so unbearably dull, that it must mean something better is beyond it...John?" He muttered, puffing up his cheeks to turn to John in apprehension, who was reading the newspaper contently.
" Woman with a beard won Eurovision, can't call that dull." He wittily remarked at his best friend whilst turning the page. Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned back to the window. Eurovision was his equivalent of torture, but he put up with it for John. A black car pulled up outside their house, catching Sherlock's interest immediately.
" We have a visitor." He announced, his voice dripping with anticipation, which quickly turned sour as he saw it was only his brother, Mycroft Holmes.
" So what's this about?" John asked, as Mycroft settled in his chair much to John's annoyance, having already served the group tea.
" Mr. Watson I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave, for this is a private and incredibly important matter. Perhaps your landlady will be free, or you can merely go to bed, preferably listen to your music with headphones on." Mycroft grimaced, wriggling in the chair and sniffing his nose. Sherlock looked up at John who stood awkwardly next to the pair of brothers.
" Right, cheers for that. I'll go see Sarah, think she's in." John muttered, grabbing his coat. Sherlock cocked his eyebrow, he thought Sarah and John would have broken up by now. He turned back to Mycroft and gave him a sarcastic grin.
" Brother dear, do tell me I'm practically buzzing." He drawled, wanting the god awful task over with so he could go to bed and let this boring day be over.
" Sherlock, this is going to be hard to understand-" Mycroft started.
" Me? Hard to understand?" Sherlock interrupted, acting like a child gleefully.
" Shut up, I'm the smart one. Now listen to me, there is a world other than ours, a magic world. It has it's own ministry, it's own people, and we to them are ' muggles '. I have been contacted by Albus Dumbledore who has requested you to teach at Hogwarts, their school, whilst working on a case there." Mycroft delivered with such a neutral manner even Sherlock was unsure if this was a joke.
" Mycroft, how long have you been dieting? We all know you get a little-" Sherlock teased, but that same curiosity was burning as Mycroft sighed and out of his briefcase, retrieved documents and photos. He handed one to Sherlock, of a magnificent castle, Hogwarts.
" You can see it's authentic. The case is to protect this boy, called Harry Potter. Recently, he has claimed an evil murderer, Lord Voldemort has returned. Their government does not believe him, you need to oversee him whilst having the day job of teaching Muggle Studies." Sherlock leaned forward in his chair, pressing his chin onto his clasped hands, it was an awful lot of information to take in.
" This is...impossible. How?! It's magic...Mycroft are you sure-?" Sherlock gestured with his hand in frustration, unable to comprehend this new world being laid out in front of him."
" You have my word this is real. Here are some documents, you'll be needing to find out a lot I assume. If you wish to take the case, here are your tickets." Mycroft lulled, handing over everything before making his way to the door. Before he left through the open door, he paused.
" Oh and Sherlock? Don't tell John." He added with a coy smile and left Sherlock sitting helpless. Throughout the night, he read page upon page about the wizarding world. And this boy, the boy who lived. How was he going to be any help? Every piece of logic in Sherlock's head told him this was all a hoax, but the burning desire for a chance at an extraordinary case was overpowering his common sense.
In the morning, John had still not returned. Sherlock regrettably had to leave a short note, explaining his absence as being a case in Ireland and that he wouldn't be back for a while. A small part of him felt guilty, as he didn't know when he'd get a chance to come back. In his blue and black shirt, he picked up his luggage and hailed a cab to Kings Cross Station, after a teary goodbye from Mrs Hudson.
" Platform 9 3/4..." Sherlock murmured to himself in disbelief, staring at the two signs reading 9 and 10 on the platform in confusion. This had to be a joke, Mycroft was probably hacking the CCTV right now and laughing his head off. Sherlock lingered on the concrete, not knowing what to do. Should he just go home and abandon this disaster? He was just about to leave when he spotted a familiar face from the photos, it was none other than Harry Potter himself, looking incredibly hurried. Sherlock pushed his luggage cart behind him, and just as the glasses wearing boy looked as though he was about to run straight into the pillar, Sherlock stopped him.
" Excuse me!" Sherlock shouted, causing Harry to turn around with a look of anxiety on his face.
" Yes?" He asked abruptly, he had other things on his mind. Sherlock had to remind himself this was the boy who no one believed battled a Dark Lord, or whatever.
" How do you..." Sherlock started, embarrassment taking over as he was supposed to be his teacher.
" Oh, the platform? Are you a teacher?" He asked, more polite than before. " My friends are already on-"
" Yes I am." Sherlock interrupted, then gave an apologetic glance.
" Right well you sort of just...run really. I know it soons bleak but really, that's it. Watch me." Harry said, and Sherlock watched as he ran right to- and then through the pillar as though it had swallowed him whole. Sherlock gulped, how hard could it be? He ran, feeling a little foolish, and closed his eyes when about to hit the wall- only to open them to the sight of the gleaming red Hogwarts Express. Harry was no where to be seen now, and Sherlock soon saw why as the train was about to leave. Pushing through crowds of teary eyed parents and relatives waving their children off Sherlock managed to put this stuff in the luggage compartment and bound onto the corridor of the train just as it was setting off. Sherlock stood tall over all the scrawny first years, and he made his way past the compartments, looking for a free one. He turned his head to see Harry sitting with a red-haired boy, sharing a laugh. Realizing he probably looked quite odd, Sherlock turned away and as he did- bumped into what looked like a bundle of books and frizz.
" Ow!" It exclaimed, and it appeared to be a girl, probably in her fifth year looking all flustered. Sherlock reluctantly helped to pick up her books.
" Oh my god your Sherlock Holmes." She said, much to Sherlock's surprise as they both stood up.
" Sorry?" How-" Sherlock asked, not knowing his internet fame had reached this world.
" I didn't know you knew about us..." She wavered off, her head somewhere else.
" I'm a teacher, actually. How did you know about me?" Sherlock replied quizzically.
" Oh, I'm erm... muggle born, I have muggle parents. I've heard a lot about the genius detective. You look less tall than in your photos." She flustered, and Sherlock couldn't help but roll his eyes at the common remark upon first meetings with fans.
" Well, good luck teaching Mr. Holmes." She says with a genuine smile, and then proceeds to enter Harry Potters compartment, apparently being very close. Sherlock lingered for a moment, wondering if she was Harry's girlfriend. He then spent the remainder of the journey on his own at the end of the train until it arrived at the glorious Hogwarts. Sherlock looked up at it in astonishment.
" This could be exciting." He said to himself with a grin.