Sherlock was seated at his desk writing a large red 'D' on the last potions essay he needed to grade before he could go home. The dungeons of Hogwarts were dark and damp, so the ceiling of the office was packed with the magical floating orbs, and a fire crackled in the stone hearth. The violin Mycroft had given him as an 'office warming present' when he got the teaching job drifted lazily through the air playing a soft tune. Sherlock always used the instrument for background to grading papers, and had no qualms with leaving it at the school over night; he only used John's Christmas gift one at home (even though it was getting old and had needed to be re-stringed several times over the years). Finally, he set the quill down and stretched. The clock on the wall read 7, and if he was lucky and left right now, John may have waited for him to have dinner; if not, Sherlock was going to have to fend for himself, and that usually meant either starving or burning the flat down (even with magic).
A small crash sounded out in the hall leading to his office, and on a reactionary impulse, two silken cat ears sprung out of his curls and listened intently, staring at the closed door. Then, a soft knock floated through the heavy wood. Sherlock relaxed a bit. "Come in."
The door opened and the school's newest professor stuck his head through. "Hi, uh, you must be Sherlock Holmes." He nervously came into the room and stuck out a hand in greeting. "I'm Jim. Jim Moriarty. The Defense teacher. I was just introducing myself to the other professors."
Sherlock looked the professor up and down, made a quick impression of him, then ignored the hand and looked back down at his papers. "Pleasure." He could almost feel Jim's smile drop.
"Oh cool, are you an animagus?" Jim took a few steps toward the desk.
Sherlock's ears disappeared as quickly as they'd appeared. "Yes." He still didn't look up. "Now if you'll excuse me-"
"I'm a big fan, by the way." Now Sherlock looked up, one eyebrow cocked in question. "I've read your books. I especially liked the essay about the comical results of mixing a love potion with a confidence-draining potion and a potion that causes excessive talking."
"Yes, well, my flatmate did not." But Sherlock couldn't help laugh a bit at the memory. He'd given John a mixture of a 'love at first sight' potion, causing him to fall in love with the American celebrity that was in the magazine on the coffee table, then the other two potions kicked in, and John didn't stop talking about her for three days, while also recounting all the reasons why she didn't deserve to be stuck with him. When the potions had worn off and Sherlock's essay was finished, John had realized what happened and was hell-bent on revenge, which came in the form of Sherlock waking up in public places he did not fall asleep in for several days.
"What's your flatmate's name?"
"John." Sherlock was getting irritated now. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some more paperwork to get through and leave before I miss dinner."
Jim nodded and went to leave, accidentally knocking over the pencil cup that held his quills (another office-warming present from John). "Oh I'm so sorry." The teacher scrambled to the floor to pick up the mess and Sherlock rubbed his forehead in frustration. Finally, Jim set the wooden cup back on the desk and quickly left. "Well, bye, then." He said nervously and shut the door behind him.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, fished the scrap of paper out from among the quills and crumpled it up before tossing it in the fire on the way out of the office. He hurried across the grounds to the disaparation point in Hogsmead, turning sharply on his heels and disappearing with a small 'pop'.
John was just about to give up and call in some dinner, maybe thai food tonight, when an aggressive 'pop' sounded in the hallway. "Well it's about time!" John called teasingly.
Sherlock stomped up the stairs. "Shove it. I wouldn't be so late if that new professor hadn't tried to befriend me."
"And did it work? What's he like?" John turned around in his chair to face his friend who was struggling with his tie.
"Muggle born. Gay."
"Now hang on," John stood up, "What makes you say that?"
"He slipped me his number before leaving."
John had to support himself on the back of the chair, he was laughing so hard. "You gonna call him?"
Sherlock shot him a dark look. "Maybe you should, since you're the one who asked to hear more about him."
"Nope. I happen to have a date tomorrow night."
"I'll give you the number then, for when you strike out." Sherlock turned to go to his room, when John zapped him with a very mild stunning spell. "Hey!" Sherlock turned back around.
"Who says I'm going to strike out?"
"All your other dates." That earned Sherlock a lovely two-fingered salute.
John stomped into the flat at ten o'clock the next night, not even bothering to say hello to his flatmate, who was reading on the couch. "See?" Sherlock said with a smirk.
John yelled down the stairs, "Sod off!" Then slammed his bedroom door, blocking out the noise of a giggling Sherlock.
