I would like to do some apologies. It has been days since my last update, but I've been too ill and miserable to write.

Also, this chapter is ridiculously short, but don't worry, chapter 3 will have a bit more 'meat' to it.

Chapter 2

"John!"

Sherlock flew into the Great Hall, eyes shining. He squeezed into a space at the Hufflepuff table.

"John, I've got it! It was the husband; the man was his wife's lover!"

"Sherlock..."

"What?"

Sherlock glanced around, searching for the cause of John's glare.

"I was talking to Sarah."

"Oh," Sherlock suddenly realised that Sarah was next to him, he had sat between them.

"Oh well," he shrugged, and continued to natter on about motives and weapons, and the significance of the exact shade of red of the murderers tie. He noticed John zone out after the first few words, but that wasn't about to stop him.

He was immensely surprised when Sarah decided to leave, and John got up to follow her.

XXX

John was still annoyed. Okay, so he knew that Sherlock didn't understand about girls, but there was no reason for him to barge in like that. Fortunately Sarah had laughed it off, but if it happened again...

So he ignored Sherlock when he slipped into his usual seat for potions.

"Are you cross with me?" he asked, and Sherlock's voice was so timid that John knew that he couldn't be annoyed for much longer.

"No," he sighed. "I'm not cross."

"You were this morning."

"You were being obnoxious this morning."

"I was just talking."

"You were intruding."

"Intruding on what? She's not your girlfriend."

"Forget it, you don't understand."

"No, I don't. Please enlighten me."

"I said forget it."

John was saved when Professor Slughorn entered the room, relieved to turn his attention to calming drafts.

XXX

On the second day back, Sherlock had his first lesson with Professor Moriarty. It was soon apparent that he was the most competent teacher they had ever had, and even the dumbest Slytherins produced some impressive spell work. As they filed out, he called:

"Sherlock, a word please?"

"James," he said cordially as he turned back. "How can I help you?"

"It's not how you can help me, Sherlock. I've had my eye on you these last couple of years. I want you to know that I think you show promise."

"Promise?"

"You told me, quite seriously that you want to be a pirate. You're not the type to make jokes. I think I can help you with that."

"Really," he said sarcastically.

"I think you could be a valuable ally, if the need arose. I have connections everywhere, Sherlock, it could be very beneficial for you."

"Did my brother put you up to this?"

"I answer to nobody," said Moriarty smoothly. "I look out for my own interests, much like you."

"Hm," said Sherlock. "Still too much Mycroft in that I'm afraid."

"Are you surprised? He hero-worshipped me from the day he arrived in the school. Big, clever Moriarty. Poor Mycroft," he sighed heavily. "Never mind, I can see that you're not interested for now. But remember Sherlock, when I come around with the offer again, I hope you will give it some serious thought."

"Yes sir," said Sherlock obediently, and he left Moriarty behind in the now deserted classroom.