W.S.S.H.

Figment of my Not-so Imagination

That week seemed to drag, every moment I didn't spend talking to Sherlock was driving me insane. All I seemed to want to do was talk to him, lock my doors, shut the curtains and pour my soul out onto those pages. School hours were now more than dreaded, and every moment of free time that Greg wasn't bothering me I was talking to Sherlock. He never seemed to leave, it didn't matter what time during school or what hour of the night, he was right there with an immediate answer as if he would sit there and wait for my words to appear. He now knew more about me than I doubted I even knew about me, over the course of the week he had heard all about my father's drinking, my sister's attitude, the way my mother was practically the only person in my family, Greg's weird habits, everything I've ever tried to hide from people or myself Sherlock knew. It felt so good to finally have someone I could rely on to share secrets, like an entire world had been removed from my shoulders, like a second head almost. Sherlock didn't share as much information about himself, apparently most of it was for another time. I wondered when that time would be, and finally, on Saturday night, the opportunity came.
So, when can I meet you? I wrote, sneaking the question in once again. There was a pause, the first one I had ever experienced with him.
Well, I suppose since we've gotten so close, I suppose I could meet you tonight.
Yes, perfect, absolutely, where should we meet? Your place or mine? I can sneak out of the window, no one would notice. There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to meet Sherlock, face to face, my new best friend.
No Mr. Watson, nothing like that, would you like to come?
Yes please.
Promise not to freak out? It can be a little bit surprising. I paused, was he an alien or something? The fat old guys in internet safety videos? At this point I didn't care, even if he did kidnap me, we'd be together for life and that didn't bother me at all.
I promise. I wrote without hesitation.
Very well. I waited, looking out the window, trying to see if there was going to be some sort of beam into the yard, if he would be popping out of the floor, I was ready for anything. Except maybe the light. At first it was small, glowing a little bit from between the pages of the book, like a dull lightbulb, but it started growing, brighter and brighter until I had to shield my eyes. Was he some sort of angel? I felt myself getting pulled, not my body so much as my mind, pulled closer to the book until finally it stopped. When I opened my eyes my room was gone, there was no book and no Sherlock. I looked around desperately, I was in some type of stone castle, at least it looked like a castle, a Camelot type thing. It was deserted as far as I could see, which didn't make me feel better at all.
"Hello?" I called nervously, hearing my voice echo off of the stone halls. There were no pictures on the walls, one steel grated window let moonlight shine in, but that was about it for décor.
"John." said a deep, baritone voice behind me. I turned on my heel quickly, spinning to see a boy, around my age but much taller. He had raven black curly hair, pale skin, and green eyes that were very distracting, and his high cheek bones looked sharp enough to kill someone, if he ever had to. He looked very professional, like some business man in black slacks, a purple button down shirt that seemed to stretch uncomfortably over him and a black, unbuttoned jacket.
"Sherlock?" I asked nervously. His stone features broke, and a smile stretched over his face.
"Yes Mr. Watson, in the flesh, so to say." He shrugged. I wasn't scared anymore, I didn't necessarily care where I was, or when I was, Sherlock was here and he wasn't an alien. He was almost just like I imagined, but a lot more annoyingly attractive.
"So, it really is you, the person I've been talking to?" I asked nervously.
"Have you really met any other Sherlocks?" he asked with a joking tone. It was so nice to hear his voice, not just his ridiculously neat handwriting. I ran up to him and pulled him into an unavoidable hug, which he happily went with. He was cold, but then again the entire castle was cold at the moment, but he smelled brilliant, like a mix between cologne and herbs.
"This is fantastic!" I exclaimed, giving him his space rather reluctantly.
"I agree, you're a lot shorter than I thought though." He said, but there was a smile on his face, revealing sparkling white teeth.
"Oh be quiet, it's the little ones that can kick your butt." I pointed out. Sherlock just raised an eyebrow, but the smile didn't leave his face. There was some awkward silence, I just kind of stared at him, trying to comprehend that Sherlock, my Sherlock, the cursive handwriting that had acted as my escape this past week, was standing right in front of me. And he stared right back, whether or not that was a good or bad thing I was still yet to decide, but he seemed as fascinated with me as I was of him.
"So, can I ask where we are and how in the world I got here?" I asked with a hopeful smile.
"Well that is a bit difficult. This is called Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry if you want the official name." He sighed, looking around the halls as if it was his home.
"Witchcraft?"
"And Wizardry. Well, to be real, it's not officially Hogwarts, but an illusion, a memory if you will." Sherlock explained.
"So, you're a wizard?" I asked, trying to decide if that was true or not.
"So to speak yes, I was gifted with magic as a child, but through a series of quite unfortunate events I was expelled from here, my wand snapped in half and forbidden to practice any type of magic."
"That's rubbish, what did you do?" I asked, amazed.
"That's not important, but I had made this book prior to getting expelled, so it's not considered practicing magic." Sherlock said with a small smile.
"Why'd you make it?" I asked.
"Oh, to catch the attention of someone I fancied, but that's also not important at the moment. The important thing is that you're here now, and we see each other face to face." Sherlock decided, switching the topic completely.
"So, am I here, or is it my mind that's here?"
"Your body is still in your room yes, probably looking like you're asleep or something, this is your mind, but my mind is also here too. We look identical to ourselves, speak the same, it's practically real life." Sherlock shrugged. I nodded, trying to imagine my mother's reaction if she found me right now, 'sleeping' over the book. She'd think I was dead.
"Will I have a pulse back in my body?" I asked nervously.
"Everything will work just fine, but your mind will not be in your body, you are here, so it's an empty shell, pod even, ready to be used but not in use at the moment. But if you die here, you die there too." Sherlock said. I couldn't think that much; my body wasn't in use over there, because my conscious is here? So I was in a coma then?
"I guess I can cope with that." I shrugged, lying of course. I felt so bad for Greg; here I was with Sherlock while he thought it was an inanimate, unattractive robot. Poor Greg.
"So Mr. Watson, what is it we should occupy ourselves with? Hogwarts is filled with all types of wonders." Sherlock said with a smile.
"Are there any people here?" I asked curiously.
"Only the ones I had put in, so a couple, but not many, and they won't pay us any attention." Sherlock shrugged, but his smile seemed to falter, looking around the corridor as if worried one of those people were watching us.
"So maybe I could get the grand tour?" I asked hopefully. Sherlock smiled, holding out his arm as an escort or something. I just laughed at him, hooking arms and letting him lead me wherever he was taking me. All the passageways were stone, with windows and wooden doors. There were now paintings on the walls, but it was amazing, they moved and talked. They didn't seem to notice us, as Sherlock had said, but they were engaged in full conversation with the frames around them. I was fascinated by everything, by what he said, by the place, the fact that he was actually here with me, and how odd it was to be strolling next to a wizard, well, ex-wizard.
"And down here was the Great Hall, where we all ate our meals." He said, leading me down a big staircase. He walked the last few steps down and extended his hand for me like a prince and a princess, guiding me down the steps as if I was going to trip over my sneakers or something. I couldn't deny that he was a true gentleman, with his looks, his acts, his writing, even his voice screamed nice person from the eighteen hundreds. Maybe almost too polite.
"What are those?" I asked, looking at a pair of massive oak doors with metal lines going this way and that.
"Oh, those are the main doors, leading out to the grounds." Sherlock said, and he actually did sound disappointed.
"Is this a place somewhere, like in real life?" I asked curiously.
"Oh yes, but unfortunately I can't show you that. Only people with magical blood can know about it." he said.
"Well I technically do know about it." I pointed out.
"Yes, but you can't find it and bring your friends to start a war could you?" he pointed out, and I just rolled my eyes.
"I have two friends, you and Greg, and he won't leave the couch for extended periods of time." I pointed out.
"Never the less a secret is best when no one knows about it." he decided.
"Fair enough." I agreed. I was already here, no need to go hunting down the real place. The rest of the tour was just classrooms, potions, defense against the dark arts, charms, all sorts of classes that I'd kill to attend instead of algebra and science. School for wizards sounds unfairly enjoyable, even Sherlock seemed to love it. But I knew he had said something about bullies, so I guess it wasn't just fun and games.
"Was being a wizard hard?" I asked as we walked along yet another corridor. My arm was still linked in his, which wasn't exactly necessary but I wasn't complaining. It was a nice reminder that he was human too.
"Oh yes, exams, O.W.L.S., N.E.W.T.S, all very important tests to determine your future." He sighed, as if the thought of them gave him anxiety.
"Well we've got finals and all these tests we have to take." I sighed. "What careers do wizards usually have, after school I mean?"
"Oh, pretty much everything muggles have, sorry, non-magical people, like yourself. Some stay here to teach, a lot go to the Ministry, our form of government, shop keepers, wand makers, it's all there. I would've perused the career of an auror if I hadn't been expelled." Sherlock said.
"That's amazing!" I exclaimed.
"Yes, I think so." he agreed. "What do you plan on doing after school?"
"Haven't the faintest, basketball player would be nice but then again I'm too short probably."
"You'll be fine, make sure to crush them all when you get the chance, like you said, short people can kick your butt." Sherlock pointed out with a smile. I smiled back, he had this way of words that just made me smile, I didn't know what it was but it was truly charming.
"So, does time pass in the real world when I'm over here?" I asked curiously.
"Unfortunately yes, which complicates visits of course. It could be one day here when it's twelve at night there, what I'm trying to say is that you can't spend a whole day here or you might starve to death there."
"I won't starve to death, I hope." I muttered.
"Well I certainly hope not yes."
"How do I get back?" I asked curiously.
"I simply will you to leave, it's pretty easy but only I can do it. So whenever you feel like you've seen enough of my ugly face you can simply fade off into the darkness." Sherlock said with a smile.
"Oh don't even start." I laughed. He looked confused, obviously unaware of whatever he was starting.
"I'm sorry?" he asked.
"You, saying that you're ugly, it's a joke." I pointed out. A slight blush crept into his pale cheeks, but he looked flattered.
"Well thank you very much Mr. Watson, I must admit you're quite a lady killer yourself." He added with a small laugh. Now I was blushing too, he was telling me I was attractive while in such close contact, I didn't know if I wanted to run away or get closer. How are you supposed to reply to that? Well I'm single, so sorry, or I'm single, thank god?
"You don't have to look so scared." Sherlock laughed. I suddenly realized I had stopped walking, looking up at him with a rather puzzled expression.
"Oh sorry, sorry." I muttered, starting to walk again and now really blushing hard.
"Quite alright." Sherlock assured.
"Do you know what time it would be back home?" I asked, checking my watch to see that it was only blinking 12:00, lost signal or something.
"Probably late, would you like to leave?" Sherlock asked. I sighed, I knew I didn't want to, but if my mom came in and tried to wake me she'd start freaking out.
"Ya, I probably should." I agreed. "But tomorrow is Sunday; we might be able to spend the whole day together!"
"I hope so, yes." Sherlock agreed with a smile.
"So, what do I do, just stand here and return?" I asked nervously. I hoped it wouldn't hurt.
"Yes, just take a step back then Mr. Watson, there you go, I guess we'll see each other again soon." He said, and then the light started to glow again. He was glowing as well, looking quite angelic if I must say. I closed my eyes again and then woke up, face down on my desk. I sat up, looking quickly at the clock and seeing that it was 11:35, not too bad I guess. I felt sore, like I had been working out for a while or something. I stood up, glancing nervously at the open book on the table as if Sherlock would come popping out as well. For some reason I doubted he could leave. It felt so fake that it had to be real; I don't think I could ever dream something like that up, and so vividly. I remembered everything he said, everything about the castle, everything about him even. I sighed, trading my jeans and hoodie for pajamas and climbing into bed, trying to fall asleep but knowing that was an impossible task already. I wonder if Sherlock was human somewhere, or if it was just his soul in the book. I decided that was insane, that would mean he's dead in the real world, and he was only nineteen, so that couldn't be possible. I pulled my covers over my head, trying to block out all thoughts and just go to sleep, and thankfully my tired eyes obeyed, letting me fall into a deep sleep.