It was that evening that Sherlock Holmes made his reappearance.
I was sat on one of the massive armchairs by the crackling fire in the Gryffindor common room, Orion curled around my foot and a huge pile of parchment in front of me. Jacob was asleep in the chair opposite me, his head bowed to his chest and arm hanging limply. I rubbed my eyes. I should probably get to bed soon. There weren't many other Gryffindors in the common room; most had gone to their bunks.
I heard the password being said and the portrait door opened. I barely even blinked, not particularly caring who it was, I was so tired.
"John," a voice said from behind me.
I made some kind of incoherent sound back, wanting it to sound like 'mm?' but came out like 'mmmmr'. Okay you need sleep now.
"John, wake up, there is something I need to ask you."
I forced myself to sit up and turn my head around. Almost jumping out of my skin, I was greeted by now familiar piercing silvery eyes. "Sherlock," I hissed, "how did you get the password? Who told you?"
"No one told me," he said impatiently. "There isn't any aconite in the supply cabinet, nor in Vonich's office. Is there a specific reason for this or should I go out and collect my own?"
I blinked blearily, my brain dimly stirring as I tried to keep up with him. "Sherlock, I don't know who gave you the password, but can you talk to me tomorrow?" I said hoarsely. "I'm tired, I have work."
He waved a hand impatiently. "This is more important than your work."
I sighed and took a deep breath, rubbing my eyes and attempting to sit up straighter. "What time is it anyway?"
"Just past three," Sherlock replied promptly, taking a spare armchair next to the fire.
"What are you doing up anyway?" I yawned, not quite remembering why he was even here.
He tightened his lips, as if he was considering whether to lie or to tell me the actual reason he was awake at this ungodly hour.
"Vonich only just fell asleep," he admitted eventually.
"Wait, so you sneaked into his office? Doesn't he sleep somewhere else?"
"Yes, but that's not the point."
What on earth is he going on about?
I looked across at Jacob who was still fast asleep. I envied him.
"Sherlock, seriously, I need to go to bed. Can you just tell me who told you the password, so I can hex them tomorrow morning?" I asked, only half joking.
Sherlock paused again for a few thoughtful moments before replying. "Of course, you need your sleep," he said, as if he didn't, "and like I said before, no one told me the password, I figured it out."
I couldn't help but make a sceptical noise in my throat. "Oh yeah? How did you do that then?"
Another pause. "If you must know, it was easy. The Fat Lady seems to have a tendency to sing in the tone of the first letter; currently C flat. That would be either the letter P or the letter B. The password to Gryffindor Tower is almost always something completely unconnected to the house itself, nor any of the other houses, for that matter. Professor Lorette, while appearing to choose the passwords at random, reuses subtle variations of each and connects the next one with the previous. The previous password was Bubbled, so the current could not begin with B, so must begin with P. Logic would lead from Bubbled to Cauldron to Cooking and then to Percoquo, the Latin for bake.'
I sat there, trying to figure out if this was a dream or not.
"John?" Sherlock frowned. "Are you asleep?"
I forced myself to sit up properly again and stared at him. "If you're not making that up, that was brilliant."
I couldn't quite rely on my sight as I was so tired, but I thought I saw a tiny smile play on Sherlock's lips. "That's not what people usually say."
"What do people usually say?"
"Piss off," the smile was more apparent now.
This fits what Amelia was saying. If he does this all the time, I can see how it could get annoying.
"You don't seem to need any help around the castle, though," I couldn't stop myself from yawning this time. "You don't need me."
"On the contrary," he protested lightly. "Amelia said you know all the passageways around here, something that might take me a while, you'll save a lot of time and effort."
I couldn't be bothered to feel irritated this late. "Okay, fine," I yawned again. "And I dunno about that thing you asked. I don't really know about the potions stuff."
I suddenly noticed my foot had gone cold; Orion jumped up onto Sherlock's lap. For a moment I thought he was going to move her off, but he hesitantly placed a hand on her back. She began to purr, head butting his stomach and curling around on his lap.
"She likes you," I mumbled, my power of speech slowly diminishing. She's not usually this friendly.
Sherlock didn't reply but continued to stroke her, a look of almost wonder on his face.
"You need to sleep too," I continued, feeling an unaccustomed rush of… affection? It's because you're tired. Stop being mushy, remember how rude he's been to you.
"Sleep's boring."
I wasn't quite sure how to reply to that, so I remained silent, watching the dying embers of the fire glowing. Jacob began to snore lightly and I thought about my warm bed in the dormitory, cosy and sheltered from the rain outside, Orion curled on the end…
There was a kerfuffle at the bottom of the stairs in the shadows, and my eyes flicked to the figure of Lestrade stumbling down. "Watson, keep it down, people are trying to-"
His eyes grew wide as he caught sight of Sherlock sitting in the armchair, who still hadn't looked up.
"You," Lestrade's face contorted into an expression of utter hatred.
"Lestrade, I sincerely hope you are not here to make judgements, certainly not of me," Sherlock uttered casually, looking at the Gryffindor with calm eyes. I glanced between the two of them, bewildered.
"Lestrade, what-"
"Shut up, Watson, this has nothing to do with you," he snapped at me, not taking his eyes of the Slytherin in the armchair. Orion looked up curiously.
"Should we not enlighten him on the reason you are so…" he paused to search for a word. "Irritated?"
Lestrade was almost beside himself with anger, his eyes filled with fire. He drew his wand with a twirl of his pyjamas, but Sherlock drew his just as quickly. Orion silently dropped to the floor and melted into the shadows.
Sherlock and I stood at the same time. "Lestrade, what are you doing?" I asked blankly. "Go to sleep, Sherlock's not doing any har-"
"I said shut up," he snarled. "Silenci-"
"Stupefy!"
There was a flash of red light and Lestrade's face froze. He tumbled backward, unconscious, to the floor.
"Amelia hadn't mentioned him, I should have guessed the Hat would have put him in Gryffindor," Sherlock remarked, sighing through his nose as he gazed down at Lestrade's deadly still figure.
I realised my mouth was open and my wand drawn, so I close the former and put away the latter. "You just Stupefied him," I gaped. "I've never seen a student do that to another before."
"Really?" Sherlock looked at me, almost lazily. "It's common practice in Durmstrang. You should try it sometime."
"Why did you do it?" I asked shakily.
"Stupefy him? He was being mildly irritating, I hate it when people are aggressive and don't do anything about it." Sherlock sat gracefully back down and folded his hands thoughtfully.
Probably too much to hope that he did that because Lestrade was about to hex you, I told myself, a little glumly. And come on, you're supposed to be good at duelling, that's just about the only thing you can do.
"I probably shouldn't have rendered him unconscious; it would be good to see what other hexes he could come up with. He was never very imaginative."
"You know him?" I didn't even have enough energy to sit down, and shock had registered my legs unmovable.
"Obviously." Sherlock's gaze flicked to Jacob. "He'll wake up in a second, I should go."
"Thank you," I muttered, half yawning again, not even bothering to ask how he knew.
Sherlock looked at me for a moment then nodded. He stood and with a sweep of dark green robes he disappeared through the portrait door.
With a snort, Jacob opened his eyes blearily, clutching a piece of parchment to his chest. "What time is it?" he mumbled.
Tired as I was, I smiled a little. "About half three, I think."
"What's Lestrade doing on the floor?"
I'd forgotten about him.
"He passed out, had too much to drink," I lied, absently wondering whether I should move him out the way.
Jacob looked sleepily confused. "Let's get him upstairs; people might step on him in the morning."
I scowled, not really wanting to move him. "Alright," I sighed eventually, and we managed to haul the unconscious Gryffindor up to the dormitory and onto his bed. Finally, blissfully, I lay in my own, and thoughts of this evening's events disappeared from my mind as I sunk into sleep.
