Author's Note: This turned out a little longer than I expected. I really like it though. Hope you do too! Tell me what you think. I don't own anything but the ideas bouncing around my head and my insanity!
John was in the library studying for a Care of Magical Creatures exam. The exam was supposedly very difficult so John had been preparing for it for a while.
He sat at a table in the semi-crowded library and read his textbook, A Thousand Ways You Can Meet Your Death in Northern England If You Don't Know The Weaknesses Of These Magical Creatures, under his breath.
John let his mind wander from studying for a minute to ponder the ridiculously long names of his school textbooks. Seriously, every single one of his books had a mouthful of a title and each of his professors referred to the books by their full names. It drove John crazy.
A couple minutes later he forced himself to focus on his book, cursing the author and his convoluted way of describing the malicious monsters of Northern England all the while.
"...he can take his dangerous creatures and shove them right up his— "
"Careful. You know how Madam Pince dislikes strong language in her library."
With a smirk, Sherlock threw his bag onto the table and sat down across from John.
John grunted in greeting, barely looking up from his boring book.
Sherlock leaned back in his chair until the chair balanced solely on its rear legs, he then proceeded to prop his feet up on the table. He looked entirely too comfortable in the hard-backed chair.
John now looked up at his friend. "You're going to fall." John warned.
Sherlock shrugged. "I doubt it. I've calculated the precise angle the chair can be tilted before— "
"Yeah, okay, I believe you." John waved off Sherlock's explanation and tried to find his place in the book again.
Sherlock ruffled his wayward curls and stared around the almost completely silent library until his bright eyes came to rest on the cover of John's book.
"Whatever are you reading that for? Paranoid about the..." Sherlock squinted at the cover. "Homicidal tendencies of different creatures of Northern England?"
John huffed a laugh. "No. I'm studying for our Care of Magical Creatures exam. Professor Kettleburn told us to read through the first couple chapters again to prepare."
"We have an exam in Care of Magical Creatures?" John could tell that Sherlock was trying to remember if he had known about the exam.
John frowned at Sherlock. "How could you forget about the massive exam on dangerous creatures in England that Kettleburn has been hinting at for weeks?"
Sherlock grinned at John apologetically. "Must've deleted it."
"I should have expected that." John said.
"Yes." Sherlock dug in the pocket of his robes and brought out a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans—the only candy Sherlock had professed to like, perhaps because of the danger to the taste buds in every bite.
John glanced at the box of jelly-beans, "You know I'm beginning to understand why Madam Pince despises you."
Sherlock put a hand on his chest and put on a mock wounded expression, "Ah, another who despises me. What a shame."
John rolled his eyes. Sherlock popped a jelly-bean in his mouth and then leaned forward, simultaneously pulling his feet off the table so that the front two legs of his chair slammed into the ground.
The occupants of the library looked in their direction: John offered a helpless grimace while Sherlock chewed happily, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
A comfortable silence reigned after that while Sherlock picked at his Bertie Bott's Beans and John turned the pages of his long-titled volume.
The library emptied around them as the sun set. Sherlock had abandoned his jelly-beans and was clearly deep in thought, his bluish-green eyes were unfocused and he stared at a bookshelf in the far corner of the room.
John yawned and stretched and saw that the library was now completely empty except for them and Madam Pince the librarian, who was giving them the evil eye.
"We should leave, Sherlock, the library is going to be closed soon."
With a visible effort, Sherlock broke out of his Mind Palace.
"Yes, alright. I need to test a hypothesis."
"Something dangerous?" John asked as they both got up and collected their things.
Sherlock smirked. "Of course. Coming?"
"Can't. I've got to study." They exited the library; Sherlock gave the still glowering Madam Pince a sarcastic wave.
Sherlock groaned after John's statement. "Please. You're acting as if this exam is life and death."
"This grade is practically life and death. If I don't recognize these creatures in my travels I'm done for."
Sherlock stared at him. "What travels?"
John blushed a little. "I dunno. Wizard travels. Isn't it a wizarding tradition to travel the world after completing school?"
"It might've been a tradition. About a century ago."
"Whatever. I've always wanted to travel. You know, pursue my career, meet foreign wizards..." John's voice trailed off.
"Yes, I had already deemed you a hopeless romantic. Traveling is useless and all wizards are the same no matter where you find them."
Sherlock said as he loosened his bronze and blue Ravenclaw tie.
"Do you have to criticize all of my ideas?" John said, only a tiny bit hurt.
Sherlock nodded. "It's not just your ideas, don't go thinking that you're an exception."
John scoffed. "I know I'm not an exception. I've known you for six years, you degrade everyone." John pushed aside the momentary hurt and relaxed into the banter.
Sherlock hummed affirmatively. "So. Traveling. Where are you going to go after Hogwarts?"
"I thought traveling was useless." John responded with a mischievous glance at Sherlock.
Sherlock sighed. "I'm being polite. You enjoy small-talk. Talk."
"Yeah, I'm not sensing politeness."
Sherlock poked John in the upper arm. "Where are you going after Hogwarts?" He repeated.
John smiled and his eyes looked like they were gazing at something faraway. "Everywhere. You will never be able to convince me that foreign wizards aren't fascinating, so don't even try. I want to learn new Healer techniques from Arabian wizards and visit Quidditch stadiums in Italy and Greece." John spoke animatedly and Sherlock watched him with a somewhat bemused smile.
"And it would be so spectacular to see a dragon in its natural habitat."
Sherlock thought about John's enthusiastic list of things to see around the world as they turned a corridor and found themselves at the portrait of the Fat-Lady.
"Alright. I'll come with you." Sherlock decided.
John laughed. "Who says you're invited?"
Sherlock glared at John. "I did."
John held up his hands placatingly. "Yeah, okay, you can come. At least for part of it."
Sherlock's glare softened into a confused stare. "Why only part of it?"
John looked a little uncomfortable. "You have to promise not to...uh, fly off the handle or anything."
"What is it?" Sherlock said warily.
"I want to go to muggle medical school and enlist in the British army as a surgeon." John said quickly. John waited for the explosion.
Sherlock blinked slowly and narrowed his eyes in contemplation. "Muggle. Medical. School."
John nodded tentatively, "Yes."
"Then with your Muggle degree you plan to... enlist in the British army." Sherlock looked as if he was trying to solve a troubling problem.
"Yes." Now John spoke firmly. "I've wanted to join the army since I was eight—years before I even knew I was a wizard. I've been studying up on Muggle courses during the holidays so I'll be prepared for the coursework at medical school."
"How did I not know that?" Sherlock talked to himself more than John. Sherlock was angry at himself for missing something. "So, you want to enlist in the Muggle army, put yourself in immense peril, and patch up other soldiers without magic when you could have a comfortable job at St. Mungo's as chief Healer?" Sherlock said incredulously. "I knew you were simple minded, but even I couldn't have predicted this."
John bit his lip. "This is why I didn't want to tell you." He said quietly.
"You have never mentioned this before. I wish I had known about your idiotic wish for self-destruction earlier. Stupid, stupid." Sherlock had begun pacing the corridor. The Fat Lady watched them like she was watching her favorite television show.
"It's not idiotic, Sherlock. I want to... to help. I don't know." John hadn't intended to drop this bombshell now, not when he still had a year and a half left at Hogwarts. "Muggles need doctors or Healers more than wizards. Any wizard can just wave their wand and fix themselves. With Muggles, they need professional surgeons and, and physical therapy and all kinds of casts and bandages." John said beseechingly.
Sherlock ran his hands through his hair agitatedly. "I'll see you tomorrow." Sherlock said shortly, and he stalked off down the corridor.
John rubbed his eyes with both hands as he turned to face the Fat-Lady. The Fat-Lady tutted sympathetically at him. "He always has such terrible mood-swings." The Fat-Lady remarked.
Not in the mood for a conversation, John simply gave the password and clambered into the common room.
The next day, John took his exam. He was surprised but pleased when he found he could remember all of the information on the exam from his hurried reading the night before. Sherlock, who took the exam calmly, despite his utter lack of any form of studying, sidled up to John as though nothing had happened and began talking John's ear off about something called the Entrail-Expelling curse.
John followed Sherlock's lead and didn't mention the argument they had had last night. Though, it wasn't a consensual argument; it had mostly consisted of Sherlock overreacting and John trying to calm him down.
After Care of Magical Creatures, John had Charms with the Hufflepuffs. John sat with Greg Lestrade at the back of the Charms classroom and talked to the patient Hufflepuff about Sherlock's reaction to John's career aspirations.
"...When I told him that I was going to enlist in the British army as a Muggle surgeon he nearly had a conniption. I don't know what his deal was. I mean, I expected him to freak out over the whole working solely for Muggles and turning my back on the Wizarding world thing, but he didn't freak out like I expected him to." John waved his wand, halfheartedly attempting their charm for the day. Nothing happened. "He was... almost frantic. He started babbling about my personal safety. Since when has he ever cared about that?" John asked Greg.
Greg effortlessly executed the charm as he thought how to answer John's question, a flock of birds flew out of his wand.
"Whoa. I didn't expect that to work."
John and Greg watched the birds flap around the room for a moment.
"I think Sherlock was trying to show you how much he cared. He's just... not that good at expressing emotion." Greg finally responded.
"Sherlock was trying to show me how much he cared by calling my dreams of joining the Muggle army idiotic?" John had trouble believing that somehow.
"Of course. That's a typical Sherlock response to experiencing a large surge of protectiveness for his only friend. I think he was very anxiously contemplating you being in the Muggle army and possibly getting injured and his thoughts got all jumbled. He insulted you and demeaned your career choices when what he wanted to do was tell you how worried he was about you." Greg said, displaying one of the inherent traits of a Hufflepuff: thoughtful advice.
John sighed. "I didn't even think about that. He was still overreacting, though."
Greg shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe. Has he talked to you about it since?"
John shook his head. "No. He's acting as if he didn't overreact over my life choices. I suppose that's better than confronting me and forcing me to change my career."
"I don't think you told anyone about this desire of yours. We're all under the impression that you want to be a Healer."
"I still want to be a Healer. I just want to experience life as a Muggle surgeon first. It was my only choice when I was ten years old." John explained.
Greg, apparently not having a response to that, said "Avis!", and more birds sprung from his wand. Greg beamed at them. "That's bloody brilliant. First time I've mastered a spell on the first day."
The bell rang singling the end of Charms class. Everyone scrambled for their bags and books.
John put his wand away and collected his books as well.
Greg clapped John on the shoulder. "Don't worry, John. Sherlock just wants what's best for you."
"Sometimes I think Sherlock just wants what's best for him."
Greg chuckled. "Yeah, that too, of course. See you, John." Greg left.
The rest of John's day passed without incident. He thought about Greg's advice and wondered what he should tell Sherlock to reassure him.
John didn't have to approach Sherlock however, Sherlock confronted him in the Great Hall during dinner.
Sherlock sat down beside John heavily and pushed one of the golden plates away from himself with distaste.
"I have one question." Sherlock said simply.
"Just one?" John said, smiling at his friend.
Sherlock glanced at him. "Yes. Are you at least going to take your wand with you to Afghanistan or Iraq or whatever godforsaken place the Muggle army decides to send you?"
John heard the anxiety in Sherlock's voice. John nodded seriously.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"
Sherlock continued, "And you promise to apparate out of any situation if you feel threatened?"
"I don't know about that. You know what an adrenaline junkie I am."
Sherlock gave him a dirty look. "John."
"Okay, Okay, I promise."
Looking mildly appeased, Sherlock nodded with finality and got up.
"And I'll come back as well." John said, looking earnestly at Sherlock. "I don't plan to stay in the Muggle army my whole life."
Sherlock stared at John for a minute. "You'd better come back. I'd be lost without a Healer by my side, especially in my dangerous profession." With this candid statement, Sherlock smiled and left.
John, feeling as though a great weight of indecision and guilt had left his shoulders after telling the truth about his future plans, continued eating his dinner with pleasure.