Chapter Six: Reluctant Colleagues
"You miserable shite!" roared Holmes. "You just went out of your way, on purpose, to interrupt my procedure for haemoglobin determination!"
Snape paled to an indeterminate greenish hue, two red spots appearing on his cheekbones. "How dare you speak to me like that, you vulgar toad! 'Interrupt' your determination, indeed, sir, I was doing it without a wand while you were still tottering your puerile way through that abomination called the Muggle school system!" he bellowed.
Holmes looked down his nose at the younger man. "I would say, sir, that I was creating the science of forensics, to the acclamation of authorities all over Britain and the Continent as well, when you¸ sir, were pissing your nappies." He chuckled malevolently. "Too busy playing – what is it, Quibbage, larking about on a broomstick, to make it into university, old chap?"
Snape merely looked at him with shuttered eyes. "No," he finally said and turned away.
Holmes found the look familiar. Then he remembered a tea his long time friend and associate Dr John Watson had once hosted for his former Army colleagues (though 'brandy' would have been a more accurate word, given the beverage actually served). It had been held in a small tea shop, and some drunken sot had wandered by, asked a similar question, and met with a similar response from a man that Holmes knew from Watson's reminiscences had once been captured by the Pathans. I may have made a similar error, he thought, and resolved to find out precisely what the gloomy professor had actually been up to.
For some reason, perhaps from some unnoticed clues that had not yet made their way into his awareness, he considered the likelihood that although his own approach to the castle had been easy, Hogwarts was a place under siege despite its deceptively peaceful appearance.
Snape returned to the laboratory bench. "I would not normally forgive such effrontery," said he, " but it's clear you speak from ignorance. The Headmaster has said we must work together. The last time I did not pay attention to him in such a matter somebody died." He leaned his hand on the dark slate; his black eyes bored into Holmes' grey gaze. "What do you say, gaffer, will you drink whiskey?"
"For my part, I apologise for the comment. It was uncalled for," Holmes said, though he was keen to know why. "Whiskey? Don't mind if I do."
Snape opened a cupboard and took out a bottle of Old Ogden's Firewhiskey and two glasses. He poured a couple of fingers into each glass and handed one to Holmes.
The detective brought the glass to his lips and tossed the whiskey down in one swallow. He closed his eyes, then opened them, and shook himself all round. When he stood up, he seemed somewhat restored.
"I say, Snape, we are on the same side of this investigation. I should not have pulled rank on you; I've been doing it for so many years it seems to come naturally. Now, let's get back to work."
Snape eyed the older man. He sipped his whiskey. "I am unaccustomed to working with anyone else, I am solitary by nature," he said. "I will endeavour to be more tolerant, for the sake of the case." He thought for a moment. "Actually, my intern has badgered and debated and logicked me into submission of late, and truth to tell, I find your company, as irritating as it is, less abrasive than hers." A ghost of a smile lifted a corner of his mouth. "Although, I must admit, she continues to astonish me with her abilities."
Holmes raised his eyebrows. "Intern? It wouldn't be that Miss Granger, would it?"
"How did you know? Of course, the Headmaster gave you lodgings in Gryffindor, and the insufferable busybody and know-it-all must have been at your door directly you entered your rooms."
Holmes threw back his head and laughed. "Yes, yes, indeed, she was, and quite the officious young lady." So you've got your Russell, do you? And quite a toothsome morsel, indeed. Not a word, Holmes, he said to himself, smirking.