Gryffindor versus Slytherin. It was Sherlock's last year, and his house didn't even make it to the finals. Not that he cared about a silly thing such as Quidditch. But John did. That was the only reason he was at the Godforsaken game. On their way to the stadium, though, there was a bit of trouble. They ran into none other that James Moriarty, and his faithful sidekick, Sebastian Moran. "Hello, boys! On your way to the game, I see!" said James' sickeningly cheerful voice.
"What do you want, Moriarty?" Sherlock stared straight into his enemies eyes.
"Oh, please. Call me Jim! I insist." 'Jim' smiled.
"You're disgusting," spat John. Moran pinned John to the wall.
"Don't talk to him like that," Moran said, rage filled his eyes.
"What's it to you?" smirked John. Moriarty then walked up.
"Please, darling. No need to get so mad." He called the Slytherin off of the Gryffindor. "Go on to the game, you two. You'll definitely see us there."
John and Sherlock walked suspiciously away, remarked at how odd it was that Moriarty let them go so easily.
The boys got there just in time to see the players zoom into the air. A sickeningly familiar voice filled the stadium. "And they're off!"
It was Moriarty. A Slytherin commentating a game against Gryffindor. It really couldn't get more unfair.
"Lee Jordan is off for today's game. It sounded as if he had lost his voice to a very powerful silencio charm! Anyway, back to the game. That looks quite like a foul! It seems Fred Weasley hits harder than he thought he does! Or is that George? No matter, nobody cares about the difference, am I right?!" There were a few Slytherin laughs.
"That wasn't a foul!" John whispered angrily to Sherlock.
A Slytherin Beater knocked Ginny Weasley off of her broomstick. Moriarty paid no attention.
"It looks as if Slytherin has the Quaffle. They do! And it's in! Ten points to Slytherin! But everyone saw that coming, didn't we? That Ron Weasley would let anything in!" He then continued to lead the stadium into a chorus of Weasley Is Our King. The Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs (with the exception of Zacharias Smith, who never liked Gryffindor) were all disgusted. Slytherin was only winning by ten points, though, so they would easily win. "And Ginny Weasley gets in a goal." He groaned quietly. "Hurrah," he said in mock celebration. "The teams are tied now, 80-80. The question is: who'll spot the Snitch first? Potter? Or Malfoy?" There were two more goals scored, one for each teach so that they were still tied. "Malfoy dives for the Snitch!" The crowd watched in anticipation. Even Snape looked mildly interested. "And! And!" The two boys were racing for the small golden object. "The winner in Gryffindor." There was a solemn look on his face. "Congrats." He got up and left the stands, with Moran trailing behind him. John and Sherlock looked at each other, and decided to follow him.
Sherlock smirked when he found Moriarty and Moran. "Didn't go how you planned it, huh?"
"Of course it did!" said Moriarty. Sherlock look at him with his head tilted. "In due time, Mr. Holmes. In due time." Sherlock stepped back to go beside John. "Now go on! Have your little festivities. Eat your little snacks, and drink your butterbeer. Just remember…" He stepped and put his face uncomfortably close to Sherlock's. "He's coming!" Moriarty then took Moran's hand and they skipped away to their common room.
"Who's coming?"asked John, looking at Sherlock.
"He-who-shall-not-be-named."
John's eyes widened. "MERLIN'S HAT IF YOU'RE KIDDING WITH ME I WILL BEAT THE BLOODY-"
"I'm not kidding, John," said Sherlock calmly. "Let's go now." He grabbed John's hand, and they ran into the castle.