For a few days Sherlock seemed to vanish. I was dismayed to find his seat empty in Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts and he wasn't present at our Care of Magical Creatures lessons either.
When I asked Gryffindor head of house, Professor Lorette, where he was, she looked sideways at me.
"Why do you care if a Slytherin is missing?"
I was a little taken aback. "Well, Professor Teare asked me to help him around, you know, because he's new and everything."
"Well, I have no idea, why don't you ask Professor Vonich?"
The head of Slytherin house was tall and scary, so I ruled that out.
I had other issues to be getting on with beside a missing Slytherin, however.
"Your girlfriend," Davies nudged me.
My insides gave that tell-tale squirm but hit him with my bag; he laughed. Davies and I were sprawled on the grass in the courtyard; grey skies and upcoming Potions lesson had not put me in the greatest of moods.
I couldn't help but watch out of the corner of my eye as Professor Heartley strode across the gravel on the other side of the courtyard, purple robes sweeping out behind her. From my limited view, she looked like she was smiling.
Okay, so I have a bit of a crush.
First things first: she is in her twenties so it's not that bad.
Secondly, I wasn't very obvious about it.
Although of course Davies knew, he seemed to know everything when it came to that kind of thing.
Professor Rachel Heartley was our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, and aside from being very pretty and bubbly, she was just so cool.
Her hair was short and artfully wacky, always looking like strong gales had blown through it recently, and I'd never seen her without her pair of massive flying goggles on her forehead. She wore high laced boots that somehow complimented her indigo robes perfectly.
Davies brought his arm up from the grass to wave to her, but I hissed at him and managed to drag it back down before she noticed. He grinned at me, as she disappeared into a doorway. "Hey, if I don't get her to notice you, she never will."
He knew where to stab me sometimes.
He meant well.
I scowled. "Yeah, well, maybe I don't want her to notice me. Have you noticed that she is about six years older than me?"
"We've been through this before, Watson," Davies smirked.
Once Jacob had accidently pushed me into the Hippogriff paddock; Creeper had tried to charge me and Professor Heartley had to rescue me. She had, however, told me off afterwards, and that was the first time she had called me by my last name.
Davies had made fun of it ever since. Jacob felt eternally guilty.
"Hey," Davies rolled over onto his stomach. "I meant to ask you, who's the creep following you around?"
"You mean Sherlock Holmes?" I frowned. "New Slytherin, Teare asked me to show him around and stuff. He doesn't really follow me around, what gave you that idea?"
Davies' brow furrowed. "No, this guy's a Ravenclaw. Tall, dark hair."
"What?" I was dumbfounded. "Really? Where've you seen him?"
"Well." He picked a blade of dull grass thoughtfully. "A few times. On the platform, he was staring at you while you were on the train, dunno why. And at breakfast the other day."
"Point him out next time?" I suggested, astounded.
"Will do."
"There he is-"
Next morning at breakfast. The owls had just arrived and the Great Hall was a din of laughter, idle chatting and bird screeching.
"Quick, there," Davies hissed, nodding his head down the Gryffindor table. I instantly dropped my toast and whipped my head around, forgetting that this 'creeper' was probably looking at me and would no doubt notice I was staring in his direction.
"Where?" I hissed back, craning my head past the second years chatting over their cereal.
"There," he shoved me to get up. "Brown hair, just go, he'll be gone in a second-"
I obediently stood, instantly regretting it as I almost tumbled over backwards. Managing to keep my balance, I staggered out from the table and hurried down to the massive oak doors. I caught sight of what could have been dark Ravenclaw robes disappearing around the corner-
Damn, I gritted my teeth and ran as soon as I turned into the hallway. There was something familiar about the figure who was striding away from me, robes flowing, shoes clicking.
Just call out, can't hurt-
My voice failed me so I kept running, shoes slapping the ground embarrassingly loudly. I had almost caught up when the Ravenclaw suddenly veered to the right into one of the empty classrooms.
Skidding to a halt, out of breath and realising how unfit for Quiddich I was, I staggered into the classroom after him. This is probably a bad idea, there was a reason he's been following you, probably wants to steal something-
"John Watson."
How the hell did he do that?
My 'creeper' was sat, delicately poised, in an armchair on the other side of the room next to a dilapidated fireplace, cup of tea in hand. While I caught my breath I looked at him more closely. He was at least a sixth year, with short brown hair and bright eyes. He looked… delighted, there was no other word for it.
"Er," I couldn't think of anything to say. Come to think of it, I wasn't even sure why I ran after him in the first place. I don't recognise him, and I've been here four years.
"I've wanted to meet you," the boy continued pleasantly, gesturing to the chair opposite him. I sat awkwardly.
Again, I couldn't formulate a reply. It didn't make sense.
"Rather nasty events in the Ministry kept me away yesterday, and your friend seems to think I'm a slight stalker. Thought it would be best to talk to you without his company." he folded one leg onto the other and set the tea down, clasping his hands.
What I wanted to say was Why are you bothering about Ministry stuff? You're a student.
But was I actually said was
"Um, okay."
I spied a shiny silver Prefect badge on the Ravenclaw's chest.
"Straight to the point, then," he said cheerily and I looked up to his smile. It was a curious smile. "I've been watching you since Sherlock Holmes attached himself to you, and I must say, John, I cannot fathom why he's chosen you."
Why is it always to do with him?
"Me neither," I shrugged, deciding to be truthful and blunt. Attached himself to you. Had he really? Sure, he asked for you on the train, but only because Amelia knew you. He talked to you at breakfast. He came into the common room in the early morning to ask you about a herb.
"I wouldn't say he was attached to me, he hardly knows me or anything," I replied, a little uncomfortable.
He raised both eyebrows. "Surely you can't be serious. When Sherlock even remotely agrees with someone's being, he becomes attached. Have you not noticed this?" Immediately after he said this, he tightened his mouth as if he had just remembered something unpleasant. "And of course, he knows everything about you, how many days have you known him?"
For some reason I didn't want to answer, feeling a squirm of trepidation in my stomach. Something about the way he said it.
"Well there's nothing wrong with him," I said, almost defiantly.
He gave a wry smile and a little laugh. "Could it be that you've decided to trust Sherlock Holmes, of all people?"
I could feel my ears go red. Yeah, actually, I have. Everyone else seems to have a problem with it.
"Who are you, anyway?" I decided to avoid more questions about Sherlock and go on the attack. "Why d'you care so much about him?"
The boy raised his chin and eyebrow at the same time. "I am really quite curious about you. He would never, ever ask for help when he didn't truly need it."
I gritted my teeth, starting to take a real dislike to this Ravenclaw. "Well if there isn't anything else you want to tell me, I have breakfa-"
"Try and make sure he doesn't get into trouble again," he frowned and stood, twirling a dark umbrella by his side that seemed to have come from nowhere. "I really am worried about him. He hasn't even…" he hesitated. "John, I'm not quite sure you are aware of exactly who he is yet."
I stared at him blankly. "And who exactly is he?"
The Ravenclaw looked at me for a few moments before striding across the room. He disappeared through the door, whistling, before I could get any words out.
Will someone please tell me what is going on?