Hi there! This is a longer chapter, but I have to set up the plot. Don't worry! Sherlock is coming in soon. Thanks for all the views! Well, I guess I'll stop babbling now (I've decided. It's totally a thing now.) and let you get on with reading. Bye!

-PsionicArsonist

Chapter 2:

Twin Wands

The professor certainly had shown them. Spearen had led them through a pub called the Leaky Cauldron, where they passed through a magic brick wall, concealing Diagon Alley. John had never seen such strange things! To his left he saw a huge pet store, with lizards running around- on fire. To his right, he saw saw a group of boys gathered at the display at what appeared to be a sports shop. John overheard some of the boys comments. "It's the Phoenix 6000! It's the best broom in the world. Ginny Weasley uses it!"

One of the boys shifted a bit, and John saw they were looking at a broomstick. Flying broomsticks are real? John thought, incredulous. He opened his mouth to ask the professor if this was true, but then closed it as he looked up at the massive building in front of him.

"Welcome to Gringotts Wizarding Bank. The most secure place in the world. Well, except for maybe Hogwarts", the professor said in an afterthought.

The building looked like it was made of white, pearly marble, with two pillars made of gold, right in front of the huge oaken doors. "This is a bank?" John's mother inquired, her tone bordering on disbelief. "Yes. There are miles of gold beneath your feet right now," Spearen said. Predictably, both John and his mother looked at the cobblestone beneath their feet. The professor laughed. "Shall we proceed?"

The three of them made their way way up the steps to go inside. The interior was just as marvelous, if not more so, than the outside. John's mother let out a small squeak. John turned to, about to ask what was wrong, when he saw what she was staring at.

It was a creature, with green, wrinkled skin, and long, knobby fingers. It's ears turned up in a sharp point, and it's chin looked like it could cut diamond.

The professor tutted. "Now don't stare. That's just a goblin. They run the bank." John's mother looked slightly faint again. Mrs. Watson's voice went up a few octaves. "Oh, if that's all they are! Let's just hurry!"

They walked up the the goblin teller. "The key to vault 317, previously owned by Henry Watson, now owned by his son, John Hamish Watson," the professor said as he took a key from the depths of his robe. The goblin peered down at the scroll at his desk. "All seems to be in order," the goblin said in a raspy voice. "I'll send you with Raken. Raken!"

A small goblin scurried up. "Take these three to vault 317," the teller commanded. "Yes sir!" Raken squeaked. To the trio he said "If you'll please follow me!"

Raken led them through a small archway to the left of the teller desks. It was drastically different from where they just came from. The hallway was dark, with torches hanging on the wall every few feet, and there was a dank smell in the air.

The diminutive goblin showed them a small cart, like one you'd see on a rollercoaster. "If you please step in." Mrs. Watson stopped short. "We're riding in that thing?" The goblin looked confused. "Why of course! How else do you reach a vault?" Professor Spearen quickly stooped down and whispered something into Raken's ear. "OH!" Raken exclaimed. He looked at Mrs. Watson with a strange combination of fear and curiosity on his face.

"It will be a very short ride, I can assure you," the professor said to the stricken woman. Mrs. Watson took a deep breath, collecting herself. "Ok. I'm ready."

John stepped into the cart after Raken. When all four were in, the cart started moving on it's own, as if it already knew where to go. It's bewitched! John thought excitedly.

In a few short moments, they arrived at the correct vault. Raken took the key from the professor and placed it into a keyhole in the middle of the door. He turned the key, and the entire door melted away. John would have been more impressed by the display of magic, if he had not seen what lay beyond the door.

There were huge piles of gold, silver, and bronze coins stacked together haphazardly. Mrs. Watson let out a gasp. This was more money than she'd ever seen. The professor smiled. "I told you, your husband wanted to make sure you were secure in the wizard world. Now, John," Spearen looked down at him "this is wizarding money. The gold coins are Galleons, the silver are Sickles, and the bronze are Knuts. there are 17 Sickles in a Galleon, and 29 Knuts in a Sickle. Understand?" John quickly memorized the conversions. "Yep. Got it."

To Mrs. Watson, the professor explained that wizard money was much more valuable than muggle (or non-wizard) money was. A single galleon was worth 50 pounds. Mrs. Watson started to cry with joy.

Spearen filled up three bags with some of the wizarding money. On, he handed to John's mother. "The front desk can exchange the lot of it for Muggle money." The other two he handed to John. "One bag, the larger, is for your school supplies. The other is for your own pleasure. Use it wisely."

They got back into the cart. They left the bank after exchanging Mrs. Watson's bag."Now, we must hunt for your supplies," the professor said as he clapped his hands together.

They sped around Diagon Alley, purchasing all of John's books and quills. John even bought a beautiful brown owl. Now, all they need was to buy his robes and his wand.

Professor Spearen pulled out a strange watch. He looked at the time and said "If you two would excuse me, I must go to a meeting." He gave them explicit directions on how to get to the tailor, and the wand shop. "I must be off. See you at school John!" And with that, he turned on the spot and disappeared with a CRACK!

Mrs. Watson blinked in surprise. "Well, I guess we'd better get going." They set off to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

When they got there, Mrs. Watson started to sway. John looked at her with alarm. "Mother? Are you okay?"

"Just a bit tired from today's adventures. Why don't I sit out here, and you can get your robes, yeah?" John bit his lip. "Okay, mother. I'll be right back." His mother flapped her hands at him. "Go on!"

John entered the shop. A friendly looking woman came up to him. "Are you a first year, dear?" John nodded his head. She led him to a dressing room. "All right, just step up here while I measure you." John obliged, and stood on the small stool. After Madame Malkin got all she needed, she left, saying "I'll be back in a jif."

John stood there, waiting, when a boy his age walked into the room. He had curly, black hair, and he walked stiffly, as if he was uncomfortable being there. Another woman, who John supposed was Madame Malkin's assistant, took his measurements. The boy looked at her coldly, as if daring her to stick him with a pin. The woman left quickly, unnerved by the boy's demeanor.

The boy looked calculating at John. John shivered. It felt like his entire life story had just been read and picked apart by this curly haired boy. He curled his lip, disinterested in what he found. John felt a surge of anger. Who was this curly-haired child to look at him like that? John glared at him. "Oi! What are you looking at, you git?" The boy laughed obnoxiously. "What am I looking at? Oh, just a boy named John who has a single parent who is obviously a muggle, meaning your father was the wizard, since you aren't a muggle-born, and you were with a professor, since he had no idea the wizarding world existed until this very day. My name is Sherlock, if you were wondering." Sherlock said all of this in a single breath. John blinked. "Are you a mind reader?" John asked. If wizards were real, then mind readers mustn't be that far-fetched, weren't they?

Sherlock shook his head, causing his curls to bounce in all directions. "I'm merely being observant. You should try it sometime," he said, with a smirk.

John simply gaped. Madame Malkin came back into the room. "Here you are, deary. Brand new robes." John took the robes from her. "Thank you," he said. He quickly left the shop without another glance at Sherlock.

His mother got up from the steps. "Is everything okay?" She asked, seeing the harried look in John's eyes. "Yeah, everything's fine. Let's go get my wand now, yeah?" Mrs. Watson looked like she didn't believe him, but she let it go. "Actually sweetie, I have to go to the hospital. Sarah is sick, and I need to fill in for her. Do you think you'll be fine by yourself?" John nodded, knowing his mother's job as a nurse was important. "Be careful John, and I love you," she bent down and kissed his forehead."Goodbye, sweetie!"

John watched the receding figure of his mother. With a sigh, he gathered up all his supplies, and walked to Ollivander's .

The wand shop was small and inconspicuous, so John walked past it a few times before seeing it. He entered the shop.

It was gloomy and full of dust. There were long, tall shelves stretching into the distance. Each shelf housed dozens of thin boxes. John assumed these were the wands. He set his things down on the floor, and began looking at them.

"And what do you think you are doing?" A voice came from the shadows. John jumped in surprise. An old man was standing in front of him.

"I -uh.. looking for a wand?" John's voice turned the statement into a question. "Ah, another customer perusing for his perfect magical instrument? Say no more." Ollivander started moving faster than his looks would have you believe.

He began measuring John, much like Madame Malkin, but his tape measure was floating in the air, taking measurements by itself. "Let's see, mustn't be too springy, oh no… willow? No, that'll never do.." Ollivander murmured to himself, giving John many wands, but taking them away as soon as John touched them. "Ah, a difficult customer, eh? Perhaps… no. It couldn't be." Ollivander peered deeply into John's eyes. "I suppose… yes! It must be!" Ollivander walked over to the shelves, looking for something. "Here it is. Try this one." John took the wand from Ollivander. A surge of warm energy flowed through his veins. Bright gold sparks shot from the end of the wand.

"Yes, I knew it." Ollivander took a breath. "Did you know the wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Watson?" John was too enraptured to notice that Ollivander knew his name. He shook his head no. "Yes, it does. No two wands are ever the same. All wands have a core, usually made from the hair of a magical being. Your wand is ten inches, stiff, made of oak, with a core of gryphon hair. It just so happens that the gryphon that gave your wand its core, also gave another. Just one other. As is it, I sold that very wand today, to another first year, just like you. How curious that the brother wands were sold the same day. Very curious indeed."

John looked down at his wand. Who owned the twin of his wand? John looked back up to ask Ollivander, but the old man had disappeared. John strained to see into the shadows, but saw nothing. He shrugged his shoulders. He gathered up his things and left the shop, still contemplating what Ollivander had said.

It's me again! The plot is finally starting, and you've met little Sherlock. He's a git, isn't he? You still have to love him. I will try to write the next chapter as soon as I can. I'll stop babbling (urgh) and release you unto the internet. Fly my readers, fly!

-PsionicArsonist