Chapter 2: The Original Invasion
Invasion is a very easy and practical thing when you have
the mind to plan it and the means to achieve it. One must
only aggressively enter territory controlled by any such
entity with the intention of conquering and alter the
established order of things. Soon enough the land, among
with its resources, will be yours.
He was definitely going to need a bigger suitcase. Sherlock had spent the prior four hours attempting to store all his chemistry equipment into three bags. However, his beakers refused to fit anywhere he tried to put them. He supposed it was futile anyway, it wasn't as if he would be able to get much time to spend on science once in Auradon. He recalled Moriarty warning him off from taking too long. Of course, impatience was a feeling to which he could relate whole-heartedly, and retrieving one single wand from the bunch of snobby idiots would be as simple a task as stealing food from an infant. Still, the genius wanted to be prepared for any downtime they could have in that stuffy place, what he was concocting promised to be some heavy fun and he just couldn't wait to put it in action. Perhaps if he was able to finish it before they left the kingdom he could set it off and watch all those boring little princes and princesses run amok for a few hours, make an afternoon of it. After forgoing a few flasks as a lost cause, he decidedly shut off his suitcase. If anything, this at least would be an opportunity to do something really entertaining, and if not, he could always steal some lab equipment from those naive royals.
He turned to the window of his room, a sharp-edged frame lining the picture. A castle —the exact opposite of where he resided— could be seen in the distance, past the blurry swirl of the dome. Standing on a hill, proud and bright and oh, so perfect. The day he had arrived back at this fortress —after having roamed the streets for a few weeks— he ran up to here, the highest point of the tower and watched in awe how distinct the view was with something partially blocking it, even the sun had looked different somehow, and now he couldn't quite remember how it had once been. He had been just three sun-cycles old when they had attacked his mother's castle and what little he could reminisce, he'd rather not. If Moriarty hadn't taken him in as his pupil in all things evil, he failed to determine where that would have left him. Now, looking at the summer sky and all the frankly fascinatingly contrasting attributes between the universe of The Isle and the unknown one from afar, with Jim's words playfully whirling inside his brain, he smirked. Whatever may come once the criminal seized the wand and the power, it was sure to bring forth some sort of change, and he suddenly felt impatient for it, dusting off his overcoat over his frame. 'The future of all that is good and proper rests on your shoulders.' James had said. 'So, do your worst.' And oh, was he really planning on it.
Once the fancy car that was supposed to pick them up and carry them into what could possibly be Sherlock's worst nightmare —all that happy, cheery people, and all that sun— had arrived, the three of the young criminals ran outside, completely ready to get away from their simultaneously overbearing and uncaring parents or more than slightly insane guardians. They threw their bags inside the trunk of what could only be described as a black limousine, and Sherlock let himself fall on the backseat. Moriarty's sick smile meeting him from the balcony from where he was observing his plan unfold, the teen held the stare for a few moments, but as soon as he saw the usually deep brown eyes flash green he shifted his gaze, focusing instead on watching Lestrade as he surreptitiously dropped his hat over an expensive-looking car ornament, shook his black-gray hair and then picked it back up with the trinket still under it. Sherlock smirked slightly and settled on the seat next to Irene. It would probably be a long trip to 'happy land'.
"Ugh," She complained, twirling her perfectly-styled hair in annoyance, twisting the black and blue locks out of her face. "My mum needs to learn how to chill." She said, as the car started moving and the street where they had grown up started becoming smaller. "I swear that woman will give me stress lines before I am thirty." This comment was in no way ingenious or unprecedented, still it drew a laugh from Lestrade sitting across from them.
Sherlock opted to watch outside the window at the new revelations that were unfolding before his eyes, and arrange all the steps of the strategy in peace. However, that was clearly not to be since his car-mates where making quite a racket over some colorful-looking food they had been granted as snacks for the ride called 'sweets'.
"Well, this is not so bad." Greg said, as he munched on something brown and mushy, it made Sherlock scrunch up his nose in disgust. "Specially whatever this is," He commented, and managed to stuff three more of them in his mouth right after talking. "Is this what all the food tastes like outside of The Isle?"
Irene, although more graceful, was also nibbling on a blue transparent ball with equal enthusiasm; it amazed the genius how easily distracted they could become when there were far more important things than some strange 'ingestibles'. "Sherlock, try this-" She offered, but got a completely different expression once he turned around to acknowledge her. "You look a bit washed out."
The sulking teen rolled his eyes and turned away again. "Shut up," He commanded in aversion. "I'm plotting." He explained. Trying to bring forth the reminder of their mission and the real reason why they had to go in the first place.
Apparently, it didn't manage to make the trick, or maybe The Woman was just too used to his antics to take him seriously anymore. "Well, it's not very attractive." She dismissed him, returning to her blue-something and smiling at Lestrade in conspiracy.
Sherlock watched as they were approaching the edge of the island, and the docks were still loaded with ships with no means of sailing them, not across the dome. If he were being completely honest with himself —and himself was the only person to whom he always tried to tell the truth— he would admit that a change of scenery would not be the worst thing, even if only briefly. For as long as he remembered he had been waiting for a chance to really put on practice every wretched little thing he had learned and planned somewhere outside the island. After this, he was sure he would never have to stare at King Ben's face in that stupid promotional scattered around the town, his disapproving and authoritarian expression that always managed to leave him feeling out of breath in rage will forever be wiped away from his mind, and that was a relief Sherlock could not even begin to imagine the experience of achieving. He was restless to get it all going, to finally steal that freedom.
The genius just stared out the glass, the world around him blurring from existence, when he noticed something; their velocity was heightening and the course they were following was approaching an abrupt end, no more than half a tall bridge with the end missing where the bottom of the barrier stood. The car kept speeding up with no intention of relenting and the edge where the road suddenly became thin air drew nearer. A sense of distrust invaded the mischievous boy, "Something's not right." He said, as he saw the docks way behind the car, and before them only air and miles to fall into the ocean. "This is a trap, we're going to fall." He exclaimed. The other two passengers dropped their snacks to look at him in bewilderment, just before Lestrade attempted to force-open the door and jump into a possible death to avoid a certain one; but not the door, nor the window would budge.
"Hey!" Irene yelled at the driver, who was calm and steady as an unmoving mountain. Silent, with her eyes on the road and completely ignoring the youths on the back of the vehicle. Sherlock spotted a series of controls on one of the door's panels and proceeded to push each and any button in the hopes it would make something stop.
Then, just as they were sure they were about to plummet to their deaths, the barrier opened up and the rest of the road became visible as if conjured up magically —which it very well could have been— and the car continued on its course without a halt.
"What the fuck just happened?" Lestrade asked, scratching the back of his neck in confusion. Even if they had grown up in tales of magic and spells, actually watching it happen was another thing altogether. All of them only having experienced it way too young to remember it properly. Sherlock's focus came back to his hands still propped on the controls, and his left index finger pushing the biggest and most showy button of them all. He retreated from the panel and turned around to address the driver. "Did this button just opened up the magic barrier?" He asked, motioning to the button in question and somewhat excited to be witnessing his first real and memorable encounter with magical physics.
"No," She responded stoically. "This one opens the magic barrier." She said, her hand picking up a small plastic golden controller with an even more obvious button at the center. "That one opens my garage," She commented, and then she finally turned her face to look at them as she handed another switch. "And this button…" She pressed it and the dark panel between their places and the driver's started going up until all they could see of the front seat was their own reflexion.
"Oh, nasty," Sherlock commented with a smirk. Reclining back into his place and laughing in appreciation. "I like her." Next to him, the others were also reclaiming their spaces and Irene turned to gaze mischievously at him.
"Oh darling, you don't know where to look." She said, and Sherlock rolled his eyes at her once more. A long ride indeed.
The cheers could be heard throughout the castle. The school's marching band was playing some rendition of a grandiose victory song that John felt he should know but didn't really remember. The welcome committee was already gathered in front of the building, awaiting to see the black vehicle approach in the distance. In all honesty, John felt slightly nervous about the whole thing, but still very much excited, so much was depending on this meeting going well, and he really felt he was on the brink on something truly transcendent. If only he could get the cufflinks in his blue and golden suit —Auradon's colours— to cooperate.
"It's almost time, Your Majesty." His advisor said as he appeared through the door and took a polite yet dignified stance. The soon to be king turned away from the window and made his way out of the room as the car could already begin to be seen. Just when he was about to leave the corridor he saw his consultant hang back and look through said window pane with an unreadable expression. John smiled, pleased to see he was not the only one in the realm looking forward to this. His parents may have relented, and the kingdom's people had no other choice but to agree to his proclamation —even if John hated to do something without the voting he had always favoured as the proper way of ruling— but not even Lady Hudson was completely on board with this idea; while he could understand the dread they could feel about the insane amount of work they would be doing, without even mentioning the possible catastrophic outcomes; he felt as if this task were calling him, and he was helpless to resist. The only one that had never seem intimidated by the notion was his trusted advisor; he had genuinely looked surprised and delighted to participate in such an innovative proposal; and he really appreciated the support. He had met Mike when he was still a kid and since then, he had proved to be a very positive aspect on his life; specially since he seemed to have an unnatural knack for political parliament.
John rushed to the entrance as he saw the car parked right in the huge road leading to the castle; the sun shinning upon his shoulders made nothing to sway him from his objective. Not even his girlfriend trailing behind him got as much as a spare thought as everything on which he could focus was what was standing before him. Three kids, around his age, looking so terribly out of place in their dark clothing, compared to the soft and subdued colours of what made the Auradon canvas. The very look of them did nothing but excite the young prince, since in all his life he had never encountered someone quite as new as they already seemed.
One of them, the one who appeared to be the oldest, was standing to the far right side, trying to hide something inside his backpack and ruffling his short hair in faux nonchalance. The other two seemed to be taking different approaches to this and the blonde boy could only stop and marvel at the expressions they were portraying.
"Greg, you have an audience." The girl said, tugging in place her short navy dress and gracefully adjusting the bracelets on her wrists. Some of the students who had gathered to welcome the new additions to the halls of Auradon Prep seemed to be already appreciating the view the figure clad in dark blue cut. The red plump lips and dark green eyes. But for John, the most interesting turn up was the third member of the bunch: A tall, pale, lanky boy, with curls so bright that glowed purple under the sun, —as was the usual sign of pure magic in the veins—. However, that was not what made John curious about him; but the manner in which he carried himself; he was certainly different than the others. He was clearly the leader of the group, yet he seemed unaffected by the fact, wearing competence as sharply as the shirt he had on beneath the long coat under which he was bundled. The royal couldn't help but feel sympathy —and a small sense of worry— for standing under the hot and unforgiving heat inside a heavy leather coat. He just hoped their first day out of The Isle would not end with someone suffering from insolation.
Behind him, a couple of distinctive steps were heard approaching the scene quickly. Appearing as if out of thin air as was her wont since she had given up magic as the majority of the kingdom. "Leave it like you found it." She said, to which the three teens stopped and regarded her in varying amounts of amusement. "And by that, I mean 'leave it', young man." She said as Greg rolled his eyes and pulled out an incredible number of things —presumably stolen— from his bag and proceeded to throw them carelessly back in the car. 'Close enough.' John thought with a chuckle.
"Welcome to Auradon Prep." She said, her mature face friendly but also carrying a light air of stern authority. Looking at each of the new arrivals in a way that meant no funny business would be tolerated. "I'm the headmistress-" She commenced explaining, yet 'violet hair' seemed to have no patience to finish hearing what she had to say as he rudely interrupted her.
"Lady Hudson," He stated, staring with an expression of both satisfaction and curiosity. Roaming his silver-sharp gaze across her face as if assessing all her life choices, distinctly focusing on her hair. John would have thought it brilliant if it weren't a tiny bit terrifying.
The woman in question was momentarily taken aback by the recognition. Surprise apparent in her whole figure for a second, then her face broke out in a pleased smile. "Exactly." She asserted, and turned to share a look with Prince John in admittance. She seemed to be on board now, which only served to exacerbate the blonde's enthusiasm to make the acquaintance of a boy who could change the mind of the stubborn enchantress so unexpectedly. "You've heard of me." Lady Hudson's delighted voice shone through as she commented.
Suddenly the kid, previously smirking, abruptly shifted his expression from complacent to indifference, so quickly it left the prince wondering whether the smugness had even happened. "Not really." He answered, much to the discontent of everyone present. Crossing his arms in a bored gesture as his eyes took a hooded state while he turned to glance at his entertained friends. "Just something about a raggedy princess, pumpkins turned into carriages," His words held a faint trace of disgust of which John failed to determine in their sincerity. "And a wand."
The manner in which he said the word, full of innocent threat made John uncertain. However, the sparkling eyes behind the comment spoke of something different than just animosity. They were intelligent eyes, but also very much lively. The royal could sense some mischievousness within him —within the three of them, actually— but the intent did not seem to be to horrify, but to leave wrong-footed. His smile carrying a hint of unexplained delight, as if he was in on a secret you didn't know; and John was no fool, he knew the three of them would have secrets beyond measure.
"That old thing?" Asked Lady Hudson, batting her hand in dismissiveness. Her expression matched the light brown hair giving her a maternal look to which John had latched since the first time he met her as a toddler. "Never mind about that, it was ages ago." Her smile lit up the whole gathering, yet the three strangers were frowning in confusion.
The boy wearing biker gloves which they had identified as 'Greg' turned to the girl and they both minutely shrugged at each other, while the other boy tilted his head in appreciation, "I thought it would be… educational." He said, and this time the prince was certain: he was having them on. A snort came out of the blonde without intention, resulting in every other head in proximity turning and looking at him as if he had personally offended them. It was not exactly proper for a royal —specially one in the line for the throne— to lose composure at an official event. Yet, that did not seem to deter John. If anything, it made him anxious to laugh even louder. Mary, his girlfriend for the past three moon cycles, swatted him on the arm discretely to get him to stop. In the end, he managed once he noticed everyone else was waiting for him to introduce himself and proceed with polite reception.
"I'm so glad to finally meet you." He took a step forward and extended his limb in invitation. Shaking each hand in earnest; the others, however, didn't seem as enthusiastic at the convention. "I'm John." He said simply.
The girl with short blonde hair and owner of the current status of 'girlfriend' rolled her eyes in a mix between scolding and amusement. She had a small nose and a petite figure, but that was in no way indicative of her attitude. Slightly annoyed at him for forgoing property again, she introduced: "Prince John of House Watson." Seeing as no one else would adhere to customs. "Soon to be crowned King."
"You had me at 'Prince'." Answered the girl, as she took a step forward and regarded them both with a graceful bow. "My name is Irene, daughter of The Adler Queen. But if that's too much for you, you can call me 'The Woman'." The young girl commented suggestively. "Specially you." She said to Mary.
John coughed and grinned in light-heartedness. Pleasantly surprised by the new additions to their school and realm. Perhaps it was too early to tell, but this could be his best idea to date, those dreams he had had almost every night had clearly pointed him in the right direction. "This is Princess Mary of the Highlands." He explained.
"His girlfriend." Mary finished. Her face was amiable, but her smile was not entirely sincere. John knew the princess was not exactly pleased with the situation; not because she had anything against the kids in particular, but she believed he was deluding himself into thinking they would ever be able to function in their society. The prince was set on proving her wrong.
"He can come too." Irene said nonchalantly, and Greg bursted out in laughter Presumably, the reaction of the kingdom to that statement was hilarious, John found himself agreeing with the boy. "I don't think that will be necessary, right John?" His girlfriend answered, adjusting the prince's tie in an obvious display of possessiveness.
"Birds, ey?" Exclaimed the other man, crossing his arms over the wine-coloured jacket he wore over strong shoulders. "Greg." He said as way of introduction.
"From the Sand Kingdom, right?" Asked the blue-eyed prince, overly interested in all the tales they could account.
"Nah," Was the casual reply, although his expression had turned a bit more bitter than it had been just a few seconds prior. "I'm an Island man. B.B. " (Before Barrier) He commented and John felt like a fool for asking such a stupid and insensitive question. Of course, this kid looked around his age, and by then, his father had already been banished from the Sand Lands for several cycles, it was obvious he would have been born on The Isle of the Lost right before it had been named as such and a big barrier had been raised to keep them there.
"Oh, right. I-" He stumbled through his words, yet Lady Hudson —the saint— always knew when to interrupt in the most opportune of moments.
"Your Majesty will show you all around the grounds today," She started. "And I will see you tomorrow at school first thing in the morning to talk about that education you were going on about." She declared and patted the blonde's back in affection, then turned to leave with a polite bow.
John turned to them again, and smiled broadly. "It's brilliant to actually meet you." He said once more, waving his hands in grandiose gestures. He already knew he would later regret being so eager about this meeting, a King needed temperance and diplomacy as a virtue in such situation, but he just couldn't help himself. "This is a momentous occasion and one that I hope will go down in history as the day our two people began to heal-" He started.
"Or the day when you stopped talking and showed three people where the loos are." The youngest boy interrupted, arching his purple eyebrow in mischief. John stopped and lowered his hands, unsure what to do in the face of said embarrassment. 'Shit.' He muttered under his breath.
"Sorry," The blonde laughed nervously. "So much for first impressions," He said scratching the back of his neck. "The first words I say to you all and I already mucked it up. You will think I'm a moron."
"Oh, your words have nothing to do with that." The other replied, a smirk painting across his face as he looked down from almost a head above. The prince giggled helplessly, losing all sense of property for the second time that morning. He didn't really know how tired he was of everyone treating him like a royal glass figurine until these three foreigners provided a respite.
"Well, you must be Violet's son." Mary pitched in, mercilessly shattering the illusion. 'That's right,' John thought: the world was back to normal, he was still a prince and he had a protocol to follow. Sherlock nodded in admission to the statement, mumbling an 'obviously' under his breath.
"I hope we can put everything that happened between our families behind us," She commented amiably. "It's not like it's your fault your mum tried to kill my parents." Her smile made an appearance once more, yet the other's expression quickly turned defensive. "My mum is-"
"Margaret Jr." Sherlock interrupted. "The Hundred-Sleep-Cycle Princess." His tone impossible to discern. Both of his friends, turned their heads to stare at each other and shared a nervous look. However, the leader's mood quickly changed, as if a fog had been hastily cleared away. Reseting his shoulders into relaxed and imperious posture. "I've heard the story," He amusedly commented. "No worries, I believe we can leave that in the past," His smile was infections; and John thought he had caught a glimpse of a real smile on his girlfriend's face. "As long as there's no more christenings."
"Ha!" Mary laughed, actually, honestly, laughed. "You are a cheeky one, aren't you?" She asked but the silver eyes of the boy then moved to look at him, sparkling in the summer sun, not really paying any attention to the princess at all anymore.
John cleared his throat and said, "So, a brief tour of the grounds." He gestured and started walking towards the very front of the building, motioning to the group to follow. "Auradon Prep: built over three hundred cycles ago, and converted into an educational institute by my father when he was elected King." He said as an introduction to the impressive-looking piece of architecture on the grounds, sturdy light brown bricks encompassing the structure and the tall towers were decorated with Auradon banners in gold and blue. They also passed the royal gardens, green and colourful. The prince could notice how dazzled the three kids seemed, staring at buoyant nature the likes of which are so seldom seen in The Isle, —or so he had read on the books—. Arrangements of yellow dahlias and bright indigo forget-me-nots growing wildly surrounded by the most vibrant shades of green and tangling their way up over the rock. At the centre of it, stood a statue of a man that John knew very well —as did everyone in the realm— his father's figure standing proud and authoritative.
As they were passing, he clapped his hands and the statue magically transformed into a humanoid beast covered in fur. The party trailing behind him appeared a bit startled at the sudden change, even if they tried to conceal the surprise. "My father wanted his statue to morph from beast to man, as a symbol of transformation." He explained. Smiling up at the massive duplicate of his dad, which John frankly found hysterical.
"Does he shed much?" Asked Sherlock, with a look of amused consideration as if he were actually weighting the possibilities.
"Yes," Answered John playfully. "Mum won't let him on the couch." He added, and this brought a smile to the others and he could even hear an amused laugh from where Greg was standing. These teenagers actually seemed likable —if a bit saucy— and that made the prince start to feel much more at ease with his self-appointed task; if they continued being so charmingly accommodating, things would go extremely smoothly looking forward.
"For a society that considers it outdated, you seem to rely heavily on magic." Commented Sherlock once they entered the main hall of the bright castle and they noticed the moving paintings on the ceiling. John couldn't really remember having told them that magical abilities had been monitored, restricted and essentially ignored for cycles, but he supposed it could have been obvious for an outsider in some way. "What happened with all the spells and cauldrons?" He asked. "The wands?" He sounded like a curious child in search for information, his coat whirling behind him giving him a strange amalgamated appearance between dramatic and innocent.
"We try to prosper on technological development," He clarified. "Much more reliable." They came to a stop at the centre of the hall, a vast space with multiple story-high ceilings and covered in pristine oak wood and a double stair stretching from the centre of the floor and branching out into opposites sides of the room. "Everything else is just window dressing." John said.
The three arrivals shared an incredulous expression between each other, as Greg crossed his arms in confusion. "Yet you still rely on monarchy and royal blood?" He asked while Irene looked between the prince and the princess. Their faces all appeared to be judging something, and the blonde had a strong feeling they were falling quite short at whatever it was.
At the face of such an unexpected turn on the conversation, John was unsure on how to proceed. How do you explain the whole political and historical map to three foreigners you just met in under five minutes? He opened his mouth to answer, but the only words that came out where a small "Well it's com-" but even those sounded incredibly weak.
Mary interrupted once more, in annoyance or assistance he failed to determine. "Traditional" She quickly said, "Customs that date back hundreds of cycles." She wrapped an arm around one of John's and looked to him in demand of support.
Just at that moment two familiar faces were seen coming down from the left stair, chatting amiably between them and not quite paying attention to the monumental event happening just meters across from them. "Sally! Philip!" The Prince called and smiled. Motioning them over and attempting to save himself from the embarrassment that was dealing with strangers clearly much more observant and intelligent than him. The two young students looked down from the rail and brightened up in recognition; however as soon as they noticed the bizarre looking figures standing in front of the prince and princess they made an unintentional rude grimace. "Come down to meet the new members of our kingdom." John said, and both of them did not seem particularly pleased with the idea, but schooled their faces quickly, a command —even if it was a tiny request— from the King-to-be was unwise to dismiss. Sighing, the both of them made their way down and came to stand fairly back and away from them.
The first was a boy around John's height —which wasn't very impressive despite the prince's heritage— with black straight hair styled back. His thin lips showed a curl of undisguised animosity towards the newcomers. The girl next to him, dark skinned with wild curly hair and round eyes faked a smile and bowed down before her sovereign. Acknowledging his authority.
"These are Philip and Sally," The blue eyed introduced. "They are nice mates and are going to help you with the schedules and show you the dorm rooms." He explained, patting the first on the back in easy camaraderie. The grandfather clock on the far wall chimed twice, marking the beginning of another one of his obligations. "Gotta dash, but if you have anything else you need, anytime, about any topic, you come and find me, okay?" Came the amiable offer, addressing them with quick regard now that he could see all his life-long dreams being materialised with their sole presence. "I'm quite hard to miss." John joked as Princess Mary looped her arm around his shoulder and turned them around to leave in a swash of her baby pink summer dress. The blonde let himself be lead but still uttered a polite farewell over his shoulder. His eyes lingering on their faces even when he couldn't possibly make out any attributes due to distance.
As soon as John was gone their expressions fell completely, as if there was no reason for them to be cheery if their prince was not there to see it. It would be incredibly easier for Sherlock to keep up the same act if the inhabitants of this dull kingdom were not complete dunces. But he had to swallow every nasty thing he wished to say in order to maintain the ruse. As soon as they had the wand they could do whatever the hell they liked. However, it would do him no favours to alert any member of the court or the Prince's close circle of acquaintances of their actual intentions. The less they knew, the better. Complete ignorance was the goal and Sherlock was relieved to find out there was not a lot of work to be done on that front, most of them were there already.
"Classes are from 8 to 3," The girl, Sally, started listing as she quickly strode through the halls of the dorms, a put upon expression on her face. The sleeves on her soft green jumper lined with distinct stains which made the purple-haired teen arrive to two conclusions: first, he knew exactly who her parents were, and second, everyone on that realm had the worst possible sense of dress. Aside from the horrible quality of her style choices, the other terrible attribute she had was her quite obvious inclination for having secrets affairs of a sexual nature with morons like the one standing beside her. "One hour for lunch," She continued, completely oblivious of every tell that her demeanour was already feeding Sherlock along with information to store and use later for ill-natured purposes. "Then extra-curricular lessons, including 'Remedial Goodness 101'." She finished, stopping in front of a door which would clearly be their bedroom and handing an itinerary over to Lestrade in finality; evidently anxious for the meeting to be over; the only sentiment all people present seemed to share.
"Let me guess, new class?" Sherlock mocked, drawing attention to the ridiculous notion. Smiling innocently but with a lot less effort to appear genuine; once he realised how biased they already were, his attempts lessened to the point were he thought he was no longer fooling anyone.
"Listen," Chimed in the boy who had inherited all his father's wealth, but none of his famed charm. "No matter how much John thinks you are-" He was, however, stopped by Lestrade stepping in with his hands exposed on a clear harmless gesture.
"Mate," He said using the term he had heard John apply with the function of familiarity, Sherlock, even if always gloomy, could say he was mildly impressed with the uncharacteristic insightful observation. "We don't want any trouble." Greg said, and hands came down to be stuffed inside the pockets of his leather jacket.
Irene's eyes lit up with opportunity and her smiling red lips mumbled out 'that depends on the type of trouble…' to which the other just made a stern shushing sound and whispered her name in warning. The Woman didn't seem fazed by the scolding, if anything it made her grin in mirth even more. The two students in front of them watched in exasperation and skepticism as Greg opened the door and stepped into the room, followed by Irene; "So," Sally prompted, crossing her thin arms in defiance —which were obviously a trait given to her by her frog-kissing mother.
Before any of them could mention any other dull thing, Sherlock took the last step past the threshold, and happily uttered, "Thank you for the tour." And promptly shut the door in their faces.
The moment the door banged closed and they turned, a grand, opulent room came into full view, with intricately designed bedposts, wooden decorations and plush carpet. It was impeccably arranged, the two beds —Irene will obviously be staying in the women's wing— shoved on each side and three impressive windows lining the south wall. The whole ambiance radiated class and serenity; and Sherlock hated it.
"I could certainly get used to living like this," Irene admitted as she flung herself down on a comfortable armchair at the corner of the space. "Lavish curtains and velvet upholstery." She explained, while her hand caressed said rich fabric; they didn't have such nice things on The Island, which was exactly the reason why Sherlock felt such animosity towards them; all those superfluous, unnecessary things brought only distrust and unease in him.
"Well don't." He replied bitterly, "We have a mission, and once it's accomplished the place won't look like this for much longer," The other two shared a look of uncertainty while he continued on muttering about that being an improvement. He turned and dropped his bags heavily on what would become his bed for as long as it took to retrieve said wand.
"So bringing down generations worth of monarchy," Lestrade said, "How do we do that?" He asked. Sherlock hastily yanked open the zip of his first suitcase and rummaged inside; taking in hand his crucial spell-book and turned around to face his two accomplices.
"Let's start with the location." He announced.
