Chapter Two

Explosions and Potions

"You look tired," John noted when Sherlock sat down beside him in charms the next morning, just before the bell rang singling the start of class.

"Up late," Sherlock replied as he pulled his books out of his bag, flipping to the chapter that they were going through at the moment. They were doing theory work, to make sure that they had that mostly down pat for their upcoming exams.

"In the potions room again?" He nodded. John frowned. "You shouldn't spend so much time in there you know," he said thumbing to the right page, after peering at the number in Sherlock's book. "Or at least, till so late at night."

"I like it in there," Sherlock protested. "And I like potions."

"Stops you exploding them in class at least," he gave Sherlock a rueful grin. "How is it going anyway? Any luck."

He sighed. "Sort of, every time I think I'm getting closer something goes wrong and ruins the calculation," he frowned deeply. "Snape doesn't think it'll ever work, he doesn't think magic and muggle science should be mixed. Or rather, he thinks I should stop trying to get it to work, even if it might. But it won't until after years of study, and he thinks I should focus on something I can achieve."

"Maybe you should?" he suggested. Sherlock threw him a sharp look and John shrugged. "You're brilliant Sherlock, imagine what you could do if you stuck with just potions, instead of dabbling in something that might not even be possible."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him. "You're the Gryffindor John, you're meant to be telling me to 'follow my dreams'," he rolled his eyes to show exactly what he thought about those three words. "And beside, I like experimenting, I may as well spend that time properly doing it, because I can't in class time," he wrinkled his nose and John hid a laugh, Professor Slughorn was never impressed if he passed Sherlock on his rounds around the room, and Sherlock's potion was a completely different one to one they had been making.

"You're going to be late if you don't leave soon," Sherlock commented without glancing up from the essay that he was writing. The two sat in a secluded corner of the library, one that Sherlock had staked out years back.

"Hmm?" John asked, with a troubled expression, looking up from his essay. "Oh!" he jumped to his feet. "Right, thanks," he scrambled his books together and threw them messily into his bag. "I'll see you tomorrow, and don't stay up too late," he berated.

"Yes mother," Sherlock said under his breath as John left the library to head to the hospital wing. He had commented an interest in becoming a healer to the matron the year before when the both of them were camped out there for a few days from injuries.

The good thing that had come out of that for John, was that the matron seemed willing to give John some basic lessons that could help him get into a course once he finished school. It certainly wouldn't help to have a reference.

"Mr Holmes," Sherlock glanced up at Professor Hudson, who was walking up and down the desks collecting essays. "Your essay?"

"Uh," Sherlock said eloquently, with a sideways glance at John who gave him a look that said 'I'm not helping you, I did tell you to write it.' "I'll hand it in tomorrow Professor," he said, she frowned at him, and he gave her a winning smile. "Tomorrow then," she said fondly but firmly. "If I don't get it tomorrow you'll fail the assessment, understood?"

"Yes Professor."

She collected John's essay and headed to the next row. "…you are going to write the whole essay in a night?" John asked him.

Sherlock shrugged. "How hard can it be?"

"Considering it took me the better half of a week?"

"So I should have ample time to do it in a night."

"I don't see why you couldn't do it last night."

"Didn't feel like it last night."

"Sherlock," he said with a sigh and a shake of his head. "It's a wonder how you haven't failed."

Sherlock smirked at him. "No it's not John, my work is to a very high standard-"

"When you do it," he added as an undertone.

"-they can't afford to throw me out."

"Yeah, because of your brother, and parents."

Sherlock scowled at him. "I can do things by my own merit John," he said peevishly, and grabbed out a scroll of parchment to start writing the essay that was already meant to be finished and handed in.

"To Gryffindor?" Sherlock asked, as John pushed his plate away from him, signalling that he had finished his meal.

"Got rounds Sherlock," John reminded him gently, as he got to his feet.

Sherlock made a face. "Prefects," he muttered, slightly disdainfully, which John ignored as he always did.

"You coming?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Nah, I'm going to go down to the potions classroom, work on that a bit. And before you ask, I finished my essay. Go do whatever you Gryffindors do, with Mike and Carl."

"Night Sherlock."

"Goodnight John."

John held up a library book to Carl and Mike. "Gotta go return this," he said getting to his feet. "Be back in a mo, also, Mike take his rook with your bishop," he grinned as Carl cursed and headed out of the common room.

He'd was exiting the library when Professor McGonagall hurtled past, followed by Professor Turner, both looking extremely rattled. "Professor?" he said tentatively, and they both stopped in their tracks to glance at John. "What happened?" he asked worriedly.

McGonagall gestured for John to walk with them as they hurried along the hallway. "There was some form of…explosion, in the dungeons," she said with a deep frown.

John hid a groan, please tell me Sherlock hadn't just blown up the potions classroom, he willed silently. "The potions room?" he said, hoping that the answer would be no. All the fantastic grades in the world wouldn't get Sherlock out of trouble for blowing up the school.

She shook her head. "Further up the hallway, it's completely blocked the hallway to the potions classroom however. Not far enough up the hallway to block off the Slytherin common room though," at this she glanced at him, wondering if she had just outed the whereabouts of the common room. Until she figured that Sherlock had probably already told him, or even showed him. It wasn't a secret to the staff that Sherlock spent more time in Gryffindor than he did with his own house.

"Easily removed yeah?" he asked. "Clear it and fix it all up with magic?"

She sighed. "If only that was the case, according to Professor Turner here," with that she turned to the teacher trailing them. The one who Sherlock had made cry in his first week of school. "There's a shield of some sort up, shouldn't be too hard to pull down though," she added seeing John's expression start to get worried. "I suspect Mr Holmes had decided tonight was a nice evening to go experimenting in the potions classroom again?"

"Uh, yeah," he nodded.

She muttered something under her breath that John didn't quite catch, but did hear 'if this is his fault' before it trailed off into an incomprehensible threat. John was really hoping that Sherlock hadn't managed to blow up the school.

"Minerva," she glanced at the wall.

"Yes Severus?" she asked without even slowing down, the portrait moving along the walls of the castle in speed with them.

"Holmes is trapped down there, though he's a bit too preoccupied with his potion to be bothered at the moment," John wasn't sure whether Severus sounded pleased at that or not.

"He wasn't the cause then?" No need to sound so surprised, John thought.

"Of course not Minerva," at least Severus thought the idea as silly. "No student can blow up the hallway twenty meters up the hallway, and hex it so the rubble can't be cleared away without any conscious decision to."

She sighed. "I know Severus, I was just hoping."

"Hoping that he'd exploded your school?"

"Well if he'd exploded it accidently whilst messing about with those experiments of his, then it means it isn't somebody else, doing it purposely. And the year was going so well too," she sighed again and shook her head, muttering something about, that she hadn't broken any mirrors, so Hogwarts should stop getting seven years of bad luck when certain students arrived at the school.

"I suspect it is the usual suspect."

"That isn't much help Severus, because whilst we find the people behind each different scheme, we never find the person behind all of them," at here she glanced at John, as if it was his fault they didn't. Part of it could have been, he and Sherlock weren't a hundred per cent honest with her about what they discovered about Richard Brook.

"Did you even notice that you were stuck in here?"

"Hello John," Sherlock replied, not glancing away from his potion as he added some torn up leaves of fire few. "And of course I did, I heard the explosion, heard the falling rubble. Also noticed the fact that no one was coming in here to make sure I was okay, so either no body noticed the school had exploded or," he put the metal rod into the cauldron and gave the potion a clockwise stir. "I was stuck down here. Now considering there was no way that an exploding school wouldn't be noticed. I was stuck down here. Hello Professor," he added at the end, still not looking up from his potion. "Find out who blew up the school? What hex was used to stop you pulling the debris out by the way?"

"How-"

"The explosion was a while back, shouldn't have taken that long to clear it all away, not with magic, so there was something stopping you. A magical shield."

"Huh," said John, clearly impressed.