A Study in Gold and Garnet

Whoops! Just realized I forgot to post this! I had it all ready and everything! Oh well, enjoy it now!

Chapter 6

John quickly settled into his routine. He decided to ignore Sally's advice and continued hanging out with Sherlock. Sherlock continued to amaze him with his 'deductions,' his wizarding capabilities, and his lack of knowledge about the cosmos. John, meanwhile, continued to improve at flying. He decided not to go out for Quidditch because he had been told First-years never made it. He felt both thrilled and content with his identity as a wizard, and he felt like he belonged. However, he did see some of what Sally had said about Sherlock emerge as the year progressed.

About a month into school, during a break in classes, John and Sherlock were sitting outside on the Hogwarts grounds, John practising his Transfiguration spells. Sherlock was being sullen, sitting with his knees pulled up close to his chest. All of a sudden, he whipped out his wand and started firing spells into the Great Lake, agitating the previously calm water.

"What the devil are you doing?!" cried John, hopping up.

"Bored!" Sherlock responded. "Everything is so tedious! I can just feel my brain rotting!"

"Well, don't take it out on the squid!" John admonished. "Great, now we have to go inside before someone catches you destroying school grounds!" He dragged Sherlock to a standing position and led him inside, all the while thinking about what Sally had said at the beginning of the year.

A few weeks after that outburst, another incident occurred. After having finished a particularly dull D.A.D.A. lesson, Sherlock and John were accosted by Philip Anderson, a Hufflepuff who had taken a strong disliking to Sherlock after befriending Sally Donovan. "Hey freak!" he said, blocking their way. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To my next class, obviously," Sherlock said, pushing past him. "Honestly, Anderson, you should keep your mouth closed; you're lowering the IQ of the whole castle."

Anderson chose to ignore him, "You know, Sherlock, there are some rumors going around about you."

Sherlock chose not to reply until they neared the doorway that led down to the dungeons. "Ah, yes, gossip. The fuel of primitive minds," he said, turning to face Anderson.

Anderson scowled. "I've a primitive mind? Well, I know what you are! A psychopath!" He stood up straight and tilted his head, as if he had made an clever discovery.

Sherlock smirked. "Wrong yet again, Anderson. I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research!" With that, he whirled around and marched down the stairs to the dungeon. John gave a sheepish smile and hurried down after him, leaving Anderson fuming at the top of the stairs.

Fortunately for Sherlock, and unfortunately for the rest of the school, disaster struck shortly after the Christmas break.

During dinner one night, Professor McGonagall strode into the Great Hall, marched quickly up to Professor Dumbledore, and frantically whispered in his ear. An alarmed expression passed across his face, and he immediately jumped to his feet and announced, "All students, to their common rooms!"

An expression that could only be described as excitement passed over Sherlock's face. "Someone's either been killed or hurt badly, and they don't know the culprit," he said, leaning across the aisle to whisper in John's ear. "Once everyone starts moving, we tail the professors."

They started to do just that. Sherlock and John followed the staff as they hurried away from the Great Hall, carefully keeping out of sight. As the staff rounded another corner, someone grabbed Sherlock and John's collars from behind.

"Where do you think you two are going?" the person said quietly.

John was terrified, thinking they were about to get killed, or even expelled. Sherlock, to his amazement, just sighed. "Mycroft! You always ruin everything!"

Mycroft released their collars, and spun them around so they were facing him. John looked up at a tall, heavily-set boy with dark hair, who was carrying an umbrella for some reason. "You're his brother, aren't you?" John asked him.

"Yes, much to my chagrin." he admitted.

"But Sherlock," John protested, whirling around to face him. "You made it sound like your brother had left Hogwarts. I didn't know he was still here!"

"Yes, because that's what he likes to think," Mycroft explained. "On the contrary, I'm a Fifth-year prefect for Slytherin."

This whole time, Sherlock had been sulking and looking at the ground. Now, however, he glared up at Mycroft and whined, "This was my chance to finally do something interesting for once, and you've ruined it! Gosh, you're the worst big brother!"

"Nay, brother mine. I've saved you a good deal of trouble. There's no possible way you would of been able to examine the body without the staff catching you."

"So there is a body!" Sherlock said excitedly.

"Sherlock," John warned, nudging him rather strongly.

"Sorry," Sherlock said sarcastically. "I meant 'boo-hoo, what a tragedy."

"That's enough!" Mycroft said harshly. "I shan't be telling you anymore details. Off to your common rooms, now! I'll be watching to make sure you get there."

The next day, no official announcement was made to clarify what had happened. However, that didn't stop John and Sherlock from learning the truth. During a break, while they were in the library, Greg Lestrade joined them at their table.

"Hey, Greg!" John greeted.

"Lestrade." Sherlock nodded at him, not looking up from his book about jellyfish.

"Listen, Sherlock. I know what happened yesterday." Greg whispered. This got Sherlock's attention. "I've gotten on the good side of Professor McGonagall, and she told me someone's been put into some kind of magical coma. It looks like they drank a self-made potion of some kind, but something went wrong."

"That's terrible!" John exclaimed.

Sherlock made no noise. They both turned to look at him. He appeared to have totally cut himself off from the external world, he was so deep in thought. When it was clear he was not going to say anything, Greg got up to leave. Suddenly, Sherlock called out, "Where was the body found?"

"Oh, um, in some random, unused classroom on the second floor. I don't know exactly where." replied Greg. He then left the library.

Sherlock turned to look at John. "Why is he calling himself Greg? If it was an attempt to disguise his identity, it certainly was a poor one."

"His name is actually Greg!" John cried, stunned.

"Oh, whatever then," Sherlock said. He then paused. "And why would he tell me what had happened? It's not like him and I are 'friends' or anything."

"Maybe he's just being nice?" John offered "Besides, it's not really a secret you've been itching for something to do."

Sherlock just gave him a look, rose, and left the library, leaving John to process what had just happened.

I'll post Chapter 7 now as well, since I forgot to post this one and I feel guilty...