A.N: The Game! Thank you so much to Iron Mikan Frost-Elric-Uzumaki and Morgana Winchester for their reviews, you guys are fantastic!
Enjoy
They were in the air, the whistle had blown and the fourteen players rocketed up into the swirling rain and wind. Immediately, Sherlock was aware of the Gryffindor Seeker shadowing his movements; accelerating through the sheets of rain he shot around the Ravenclaw goalposts and tested the reactions of his counterpart, he was quick but committed himself too easily to moves. Storing this information, Sherlock swiftly decided on which course to take. Highly aware of all the eyes upon him, players and spectators alike he circled like a hawk above the main game for a few moments, then, when the Gryffindor Seeker was close to him and the Bludgers were at opposite ends of the pitch Sherlock made his feint. He dived suddenly, looking as if the Snitch had been spotted near the centre line. Unable to hear the commentary through the high winds, John only noticed the Seekers when he made a sharp turn, flying to meet the Bludger coming in his direction. Narrowing his eyes, John grasped his bat firmly and sent the heavy Bludger speeding directly at the Ravenclaw Seeker, noticing the heavy ball at the last moment, Sherlock dipped his broom and dodged. Grinning, he didn't spare John a glance and still diving toward the earth at a high speed he threw a look over his shoulder, the other Seeker was hot on his tail, determined to stop Sherlock catching the Snitch.
When John had hit the Bludger, one of the Ravenclaw beaters had swung the other ball toward him. With this second Bludger now rocketing toward him, John changed his angle slightly, then, taking a massive swing at the incoming ball he deflected it directly toward Sherlock again. He could not be allowed to get the Snitch. The Seekers were now neck and neck, pushing and shunting each other, Harvey managed to get slightly ahead and turned, effectively blocking Sherlock. The Ravenclaw Seeker dodged down, his attention was focussed singularly on Harvey so Sherlock failed to notice the second Bludger until it powered into the side of his head. Pain exploded in his right cheek and temple as he was rolled over in mid-air from the force of the hit; struggling to stay on his broom, Sherlock blinked away the blackness impairing his vision and glared across the rain drenched pitch at John. He growled, blood from his lip dripping down his face.
The Gryffindor Chasers were a league ahead of the opposition, goal after goal was scored against the Ravenclaw's with only a few getting through the defence in return. The Chasers of both teams were more focussed on the two seekers than scoring though, and the fouls got steadily worse as the game progressed. Sherlock was now not the only player with a bloodied face, he was still the most battered though, the elbows and kicks were taking their toll and his face was twisted into a permanent grimace of pain and determination.
50ft of the ground, in the driving rain, the two seekers were scuffling for the advantage, the Snitch was evading them and the attention of the other twelve players was making it difficult to get a glimpse of the elusive golden ball. Confused by the sudden absence of the Gryffindor seeker on his shoulder, Sherlock spun in mid-air, his stomach dropped as he saw the red and gold blur speeding away from him toward the Gryffindor goalposts; it could only be the Snitch. Leaning down on his broom, Sherlock accelerated after him; out of the corner of his eye he could see the three red chasers coming in to intercept him. Both teams were now singularly focussed on the two seekers. One of the Ravenclaw beaters hit a Bludger at Harvey, the seeker was too busy keeping his eyes on the Snitch and didn't see the Bludger until it was too late. Almost knocked off his broom, Harvey lost sight of the golden ball and yelled in frustration. John, seeing all this flew to intercept the other Bludger while Sherlock attempted to dodge the chasers who had closed in on him. Two of them managed to pin him and the third was preparing to block him from ahead, struggling futilely between them he grasped his broom tightly in anticipation of the coming collision - this was going to hurt. Just as Sherlock had squeezed his eyes shut, two blue chasers came to back him up and collided instead with the red chasers, almost knocking all five of them out of the air; this allowed Sherlock through although a stray elbow had nailed into his gut winding him and making him crouch over his broom in pain. Flying hunched, he caught up to Harvey who had just recovered and elbowing each other they flew straight toward the right hand goalpost that was looming out of the mist, a glimmer of gold could be seen dancing around the top hoop. Seeing the post ahead Sherlock's eyes widened in shock, with a loud grunt, he pulled his broom to the side. Harvey was too late, he cannoned directly into the post and dropped unconscious to the ground. Sherlock hadn't managed to avoid the post completely and had hit the uninjured side of his head on the metal ring. Groaning through gritted teeth and straining to keep conscious as blood trickled from the wound on his temple, he latched his eyes onto the Snitch and failed to see the Gryffindor keeper, Ashton, reaching out toward him. Ashton made a grab for the seeker's boot and in desperation pulled him away from the Snitch and around into the path of the Bludger John had just hammered toward them. The heavy ball slammed into the back of his dark curls, cracking his head forward just as the slim, white fingers closed around the Snitch. The combined unbalances of Ashton's grab and the lunge Sherlock had just made caused the seeker to slip off his broom as he succumbed to the blackness and land in the goal hoop, suspended 25ft above the ground by his waist. He seemed to have been knocked out moments after catching the Golden Snitch.
The roar of the crowd could barely be heard but it seemed the school knew the game was over, that Ravenclaw had won. All the Gryffindors except John and Ashton sagged on their brooms and descended slowly to earth; the other two were racing to grab Sherlock with the rest of his team mates before he fell from his precarious position. His long, thin body drooped limply from the goal, robes and hair whipping about him, hands swinging slightly in the gale. Only seconds before John had reached the lifeless body, a massive gust of wind caused the blue robes to fill with air, acting like a sail they shifted Sherlock's body marginally forward so his head tipped further, unbalancing the delicate equilibrium. Almost in slow-motion he slid forward and then slipped from the wet metal entirely, falling head-first. Robes billowing out like wings, Sherlock's slim figure plummeted to earth and landed with a muffled thump in the puddled sand; there he lay completely still, face down, the Golden Snitch still in hand.