RRW: Yea, I am just getting to it. But this chapter is certainly getting into the Potter environment.
10-11thDoctorLove: Thank you!
puddingflaun Yea... half of my idea for this story is how cute the Doctor would be as an eleven year old. Sh...
crazymacky: I like keeping small chapters which I update frequently over long chapters which I update once every week or so. I wouldn't have enough time to do a long chapter and post frequently
Isabella101 :He didn't control Neville's broom, he simply stopped Neville colliding with the ground as fast as he would have. Because I think Sherlock would be quicker than Madame Hooch when it comes to that. And I think that Sherlock would be the sort of stubborn kid who refuses to not say Voldemort. He doesn't really fear anything.
TheIcecreamGeek :Sherlock totally has a John fetish! And he's kinda remembered some things. It's...complicated
"You're going to get us all in trouble."
"Oh, shut up, Hermione. You didn't have to come."
John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. They'd decided to eat dinner in a small room they'd found instead of heading up to the common room, but they'd spent more time than they had expected there. It was now close to midnight, and there was a certain tense silence, broken only by the hisses of their words. Sherlock raised his eyebrows at John, who nodded ever so slightly. Without a word, they followed the hushed argument.
"You know," Sherlock said in a low, quiet voice, making Ron, Hermione, Harry and Neville jump, "sneaking out is a lot simpler when you bother to keep silent."
"What the hell are you doing here?" Ron asked rudely, looking supremely annoyed. He and Sherlock had never really gotten on too well, and they both treated each other with disdain.
"Me and John were heading back to the common room when we heard you arguing. You're not very good at keeping your voices down."
Ron gave him a grumpy look, but didn't argue. Hermione rolled her eyes at them both. "These idiots have decided to have a midnight duel. I think it's a trap."
"Hermione, we all know what you think," Ron hissed back, sounding irritated. Sherlock gave a slight tut.
"You should listen to her more, you know. She's one of the only people in this school who has half a brain."
Ron looked as if he were about to throw himself at Sherlock in fury. Both Harry and John saw this, and they slid between them.
"Don't."
Even if he didn't listen to Harry, small whispers had spread of John's strength when he pushed Malfoy away from Sherlock. The pair of them back off, looking sourly at each other. You could cut the tension with a knife.
"Guys," Neville suddenly whimpered. They all turned to see Mrs. Norris, her lamp like eyes focused on them. They froze as she suddenly stalked off.
"We should get out of here," Harry whispered. They could hear footsteps, and Filch's wheezing as he walked. The six of them set off at a run, none of them really paying attention to anything. Well, none but maybe Sherlock. They ducked through corridors, over and under things, until they reached a locked door. There was a glint in Sherlock's eyes which John knew meant trouble, but he didn't comment as Hermione unlocked the door and they ran in.
A growl sounded, and the five boys and one girl turned and looked up. There, standing rather tall, was a three headed dog. John's eyes widened as he looked up in wonder.
"Oh, you are beautiful."
Sherlock's eyes were darting around, taking in everything in the room. There was another silent, tense moment, before the dog growled again and everyone ran.
The trip to the common room seemed less eventful, and when they all made it through the fat lady portrait they allowed themselves to relax.
"What the hell are they doing, keeping something like that in a school," Ron asked, shaky and breathless.
"Use your brain. Didn't you see what it was standing on?" Sherlock asked with contempt.
"A trap door. And I must say, I told you two that it was a bad idea."
"Shut up, Hermione."
"No, Ron, you shut up."
"Both of you."
Harry's voice cut through with authority. "Think about it, Ron. Whatever Hagrid removed from Gringotts, the thing that was meant to be stolen. What if that's where it is?"
Sherlock's interest was suddenly there as he listened, his brain obviously processing this new information. "You know, Harry, you actually have a little bit of intelligence there."
"You are a complete and utter prick, Sherlock," Ron told him. He was still quite jealous of Sherlock's fame and intelligence, and irritated about how Sherlock could read him like a book. Sherlock didn't even acknowledge the insult, simply going through everything he'd learnt.
"Okay, so there's something hidden in Hogwarts. Something that a very powerful wizard or witch wants. Obviously given by someone close to the school and with relation to Dumbledore. And I doubt Hagrid's dog is the only thing guarding whatever it is. But what could it be?"
He was pacing up and down, never stopping. John watched with a curious gaze, while Hermione seemed grumpy, glaring at them all, while Harry once more seemed impressed.
"How do you know the dog was Hagrid's?" he asked curiously. Sherlock didn't even bother to insult his intelligence.
"Who else would own a giant three headed dog?"
"Whoever's dog it is, it is none of our business. I am going to bed," Hermione declared, storming off. The boys watched her go.
"I think I'm going to bed, too," Neville said softly, picking himself up and leaving. Only Harry, Ron, Sherlock and John remained. There was a tense silence between Sherlock and Ron, while John looked off into the distance, probably thinking. Harry was looking quite concerned about the looks Ron and Sherlock were shooting each other.
"I think we should go to bed, too, Ron," Harry said softly. After a last glare, Ron nodded and followed. Sherlock and John stood on their own in silence for quite some time.
"What did you remember?"
Sherlock's question was more softly spoken than John had ever heard it. It wasn't probing, and very unlike Sherlock in his tone.
"I...I don't know. Just a place. A bright, burning planet. And pain and fire and grief, and that's it."
His hands quivered ever so slightly, wondering if it was his memory. His own past, with the pain and rage and fire. To John's eternal surprise, Sherlock hesitantly patted him on the back. It was the single most awkward pat, but a pat all the same. A sign of affection. Something so unlike Sherlock.
"I think I'm scared, Sherlock. What is I was terrible? What if that's my whole life? Scared of my own past, ha!"
There were slight tears in John's eyes, slight fear. Sherlock looked supremely awkward again, wishing someone else was there. Harry, Ron, Hermione, even Neville, would be better than him when it came to comforting his own friend. But he was on his own.
"There's no point in fearing the unavoidable," he simply stated. John nodded, blinking away the moisture in his eyes. Sherlock pretended not to notice them, knowing that it wasn't really something John would like noticed.
"Besides, we have another mystery now."
I know, this chapter is slightly late and slightly dodgy. I've been busy. Also, would people complain if I change the story's name? Keep reading and reviewing
