I was halfway across the grounds of the castle when I realised I still had my old Potions book in my hand.

It was starting to snow- small whispers of white beginning to fall from the dome of heavy sky above my head. The air was frosty, cold, but not uncomfortably so, it was rather refreshing. No one was outside, as they were probably all still having breakfast, and the gently sloping grass and the edge of the Forest was incredibly peaceful. My heart rate began to calm down and I realised how upset I felt.

I instinctively started to wander over to Professor Heartley's small cottage, nestled in amongst the blanket covering of bracken close to the Forest's edge. But I couldn't spot the usual smoke coming from her chimney, showing she was in, so I turned back, as the snow began to fall more heavily.

Walking slowly and somewhat shakily into the huge shadowed trees of the Forbidden Forest, I opened the Potions book again in my hand. I could suddenly feel a little thought trying to tell me something, something that would link this all together and make it seem right.

What seems wrong about it?

Well isn't it obvious?

Sherlock didn't kill anyone.

I halted. Staring down at the little scribbles next to my own writing, it seemed strange to finally comprehend that.

He didn't kill anyone. He's not a killer.

The more I looked at his writing the more it made sense. It seemed so painfully obvious now that I actually hit myself over the head with the book in my hands, cursing under my breath.

He was looking for the killer, you idiot.

He was probably talking to Jacob for some other reason.

Maybe Jacob knew something was going on?

Who killed him then?

I realised I had started walking again, at a furiously fast pace and now I was in amongst the giant, gnarled roots of the vast trees. I stopped trying to fit everything together in my head, I'd been doing that too much and it hadn't worked so well so far.

Where is he then? Like Amelia said, why is he hiding if he's innocent?

I shook my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. My heart was thumping against my chest as if I'd just run a marathon.

Looking up into the gloomy branches of the canopy that blocked out the snowy sky, I shivered. There seemed to be a black sack of some sort hanging over one of the forks in the trees. Striding closer, I frowned up at it.

I caught sight of a pale hand, dangling limply from black robes.

I staggered back in shock. It's…it's a…

I couldn't bring myself to say it. Blood roared in my ears. Clenching my jaw, I forced myself to look up again.

Not much was visible. It was a student, that much was clear, although the robes were badly torn and the Hogwarts crest barely detectable. The black robes were even darker than black in some places, where the blood seemed to have spread, and the pale flesh that was visible was caked in crimson, gleaming in the half light of the forest.

It's fresh.

I couldn't see the main wounds that were the source of all the blood, for this I was grateful. A steady stream of the dark liquid dribbled from the high branch and onto the forest floor near my feet. I felt like I was going to be sick. I felt guilty that I hoped it wasn't anyone else I knew.

"Watson, what are you-" a voice snapped from behind me. Then a sharp intake of breath.

I whirled around. Professor Vonich stood a few feet away from me, staring up at the body in the trees, his mouth slightly open. I had no idea what to say.

He then snapped his cold eyes back to me and narrowed his gaze. "What happened?"

"I was…" I hesitated. The Forest was out of bounds to students. "I was collecting herbs for Professor Teare for our Transfiguration lesson." I was surprised to find that my voice hardly shook. "I found this just before you got here," I motioned my head slightly to the dark shadow up above.

He narrowed his snakelike eyes even further, looking extremely suspicious. I remembered that I was supposedly the friend of a murderer.

"Come with me, Watson, back to the Castle. We will see if your story is correct or not," he snarled, taking one more somewhat disgusted look at the student's limp body, his hawk like gaze following the steady stream of blood to the ground. He jerked his head back up towards Hogwarts and, rather worryingly, he took out his wand from his robes, gesturing for me to walk in front of him.

Despite just having discovered a fellow student's body in the Forbidden Forest, dripping in blood, I felt a surge of anger and narrowed my eyes, tempted to draw my own wand just to show I wasn't scared.

Thinking that was probably a bad idea, instead I squared my shoulders, clutching the Potions book even more tightly and raising my chin defiantly, and strode away from the blood seeping through the forest floor, back in the direction of the castle. I could hear an irritated flick of robes behind me then footsteps following mine.

On the walk back up, I quickly ran through possibilities. My first thought was some kind of animal, but I didn't really know what else lived in the Forest, except unicorns, and I didn't think unicorns could do that sort of damage to a person, and stick them up a tree. I remembered something about the cats that live in the Muggle world, called jaguars, I think, and they would put their prey up a tree to come back and find it later.

So maybe it'll come back?

I didn't mention this to Professor Vonich, who was still solidly striding behind me, as I could feel his angry eyes on my back and was sure his wand was pointed at me. Snow was still falling but I ignored it.

I was feeling strangely calm about everything, my heart rate had gone back to almost normal and blood wasn't rushing around inside my head anymore. Neither were manic thoughts.

I knew I wouldn't be able to figure out this whole thing, and I knew no one else would be able to either. Professor Ctheiz was probably not even here so he couldn't help.

We need Sherlock back.

I jogged up the stone steps into the courtyard, no longer caring if Vonich was following me or not.

I have to get away from him.

"Professor, is there a particular reason you are pointing your wand at John here?" a voice said mildly from one of the arches.

I turned to look. It was the tall Ravenclaw Prefect who had talked to me about Sherlock earlier in the year, who I hadn't seen since Sherlock's disappearance.

Vonich was indeed pointing his wand rather viciously at my back, and I clenched my jaw.

The Ravenclaw stepped forward, the umbrella swinging gracefully at his side. Vonich glanced doubtfully at it as the Prefect strode confidently across the courtyard to meet us.

"Professor Ctheiz sent me to take young John from your-" he frowned slightly at Vonich's raised wand, "-capable care and bring him up to his office."

Vonich narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I thought you were working in the Ministry now, Holmes?" He didn't lower his wand.

Holmes?

What?

The Ravenclaw raised his chin slightly but didn't answer. "You can lower your wand, Professor." It distinctly sounded like a threat, and to my surprise, Vonich did indeed lower his wand, eyes still narrowed.

The student gave a curt nod then gripped me by the arm, steering me away into the corridor beyond. I took a quick glance back to see Vonich stood awkwardly in the centre of the courtyard, clutching his wand and looking extremely irritated.

"Who are-" I started to say blankly, as we rushed with some sort of urgency down the corridor.

"Oh come now John, Sherlock did like you, so you must have some sort of brain in there," the student frowned slightly at me, still gripping my arm tightly. "I am Sherlock's brother, Mycroft. Pleased to meet you."

"You're his bro-" I gaped at him and he cut me off again.

"There isn't any time to explain anything," he said shortly. He led me into one of the empty classrooms and closed the door.

"What happened in the Forest?" he looked at me carefully, as if I was going to suddenly collapse or do something reckless.

"Why do you want to know?" I held my gaze steady, trying not to blink. I wasn't quite sure why I didn't trust him.

To my surprise, he gave a little laugh. "Fine, I already know anyway. Thought you might want to tell me."

I didn't know what to say so just held my gaze.

"By all accounts, this has gone far enough," he was serious again. "My brother is needed, I can see that. We shall have to fetch him and put him out of his misery."

I tilted my head slightly. "You know where he is? And you're not taking me to Professor Ctheiz?"

"Certainly not," he answered, looking surprised. "I trust you have Disapparated before?"

"You can't Disapparate inside Hogwarts," I said automatically.

"No matter if you haven't, I assure you, it is not painful, mainly mildly uncomfortable. Please take care not to be sick over my umbrella, this is an antique." Mycroft Holmes smiled slightly, although it didn't reach his eyes.

Before I could even open my mouth to reply, Mycroft gripped my arm again and everything disappeared into a violent whirl of colour. My body felt like it was being aggressively stretched in every direction and I gasped with the pain, as invisible ropes began to squeeze my stomach in and invisible books smashed against my head-

"Here we are. At least you didn't leave anything behind," Mycroft sounded quite cheery.

The pain had stopped, but the world hadn't stopped spinning. I staggered to my feet, trying to work out what just happened and where I was.

"Don't be sick on the carpet, either, Mummy was always quite fond of that."

Putting a hand on a nearby cabinet to steady myself, I realised we had just Apparated into a small but somehow spacious room. I didn't recognise it as anywhere from Hogwarts.

How the hell did we just do that?

"Where are-" I asked hoarsely.

"This is my house, John, please keep up, we don't have all day," Mycroft frowned, twirling his umbrella and miraculously not hitting anything. He strode to the oaken doorway and poked his head around.

"Sherlock!" he called. "Sherlock!" he yelled louder, and tutted to himself.

My heart skipped a beat. Sherlock's here? In his own house?

A great clattering sound came from somewhere deep within the house, as if something heavy had been knocked over. The sound continued, coming closer to the room and eventually stopping, then footsteps. Then a voice.

"Mycroft, what are you-"

Mycroft jerked his head towards me, then stepped out of the way of the door.

Sherlock Holmes stood in the doorway and met my gaze.